Paranoid Much?

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears.  Lend me your eyes anyway.

Sorry.  I’m running in major sleep deprivation mode.  I’m a little loopier than usual, and for those of you thinking, “Loopier??  We could possibly tell?” I beat you to the punch line.

In the days immediately following my husband’s accident, I found it difficult to keep up with the hundreds of individual messages I received.  I didn’t know how to get one meaningful update to the many friends and loved ones inquiring about Tom’s progress, and it was important to me to acknowledge everyone’s concern and well-wishing.  I believe the warm blanket these missives of goodwill wrapped us up in made a seachange of difference for him.  I know they did for me.  Writing here on this blog or blasting an update on Facebook was an easy way for me to accomplish mass communication.

Recent conversations with smarter people than myself leave me wondering if taking our tale to the internet was wise.  I would love to assume good intent all the world over, but I’ve been cautioned to be careful in what I put out there.  Ugh.  It’s not a secret that he was catastrophically injured (that is such an enormous term they use, “catastrophically injured”).

If you scroll down, you’ll notice some posts are now password protected.  I don’t want to delete the posts. I believe the writing I’ve done here has been my form of therapy during the dangerously acute phase of my sweet husband’s recovery, and I look forward to rereading this when it’s ancient history, perhaps serving as a benchmark for whatever success he ultimately meets.  I’m reminded of That Would Be Enough from Hamilton again–“Look at where you are, look at where you started, the fact that you’re alive is a miracle, just stay alive, that would be enough.”  He did.  Stay alive, that is.  Do you know how torn up I feel every day knowing he could just as easily have died?  I hope you never do.

Almost everything will remain public domain here in blogworld, because that’s kinda the point here, you guys. . .  But more than ever, I’m my husband’s fiercest protector.  My own needs have tickets in the back of the house to his front and center, and that’s how things should be.  I’ll figure it out.  The important thing is that he’s here for me to write or not write about.

How about this?  The moment he came home from the hospital, Tom said he wanted to see the progress on the lawn he’d seeded days before the accident.  He felt so stifled by the conditioned, canned hospital air, windows glazed shut, that fresh air seemed an impossible dream. He said that more than anything, he would love to sit outside and watch the grass grow.  And this morning, this is exactly what he did.

2 thoughts on “Paranoid Much?

  1. Hopefully the sleep deprivation will improve greatly as Tom’s condition continues to improve. It was one of the hardest things on my mom and me. Go easy on yourself and I hope you and your family are continually wrapped in a warm blanket of well wishes. What a lovely turn of phrase!

    Like

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