As I was writing my last post which I started a week ago, my sister called and we had a wonderful conversation. In the middle of the conversation my cell phone beeped. I looked at it and saw that it was from hubby. I ignored it and continued to talk with my sister. Then the house phone rang, again from hubby. I impatiently told my sister to hold on while I told hubby I was on the phone.
Picking up the land line I just said, “Yeh…” Not hello, just an impatient, “Yeh…” The voice on the other line was not hubby. It was our Pastor and friend who was moving into a new home. Hubby was there helping him. He told me that hubby had hurt his knee and that they had called the EMS. He said he would let me know where the ambulance was taking him. I thanked him, continued to talk to my sister until she reminded me that I most likely should figure out what was happening with hubby.
After hanging up from my sister, I called our pastor’s wife and asked what was going on. What happened and where he was going. She told me the hospital and immediately I remembered that having only lived here for a little over a year, I did not know where the hospital he was going to was. The gps was in his truck at their house.
They kept their heads and got me to the hospital, where hubby lay on a bed awaiting a diagnosis.
He ruptured a tendon. The one that holds the strong group of muscles in your thigh to your kneecap. When the tendon ripped, it took a piece of the knee cap with it and both are hanging out about three inches above the knee. They discharged him with instructions to follow-up with a surgeon. He has been stranded on the couch with brace on leg, not being able to move easily.
Yes, it is painful and hard. He has surgery tomorrow to repair it. I am certain it will all go well. We are adapting and figuring things out here, how to move, how to get him from one room to another. It’s been an adventure…
I say the adventure continues because twenty-five years ago this man broke his foot off, literally. It was bits and pieces and took thirteen hours initially to put him back together again… Thirteen hours and eighteen surgeons with gym bags filled with reference materials and books. Long before you could click a button and get the info you needed right away. That injury took eighteen months to recover from, but, he did recover. He can no long run, and his foot is clumsy, but, it is attached to his leg and he can use it, which is more than anyone thought would happen. That was his left leg.
For twenty-five years, hubby has used his right leg to support himself. It is his dominant leg, it is the one he leans on when standing. It is the one that he leads with… it is now the one that is broken… Hubby truly does not have a leg to stand on now. I keep saying that. It was funny a week ago. Now, I am glared at when I say it. But, when a statement is true, it’s true.
Yes, this is an adventure. We will have lots of time together. We will do things together. I will attempt to find my Florence Nightingale genes (they must be here somewhere!). We have already fussed at each other, yelled at each other, and apologized to one another. I keep trying to figure out what to do and he is trying to figure out how to do things. After tomorrow there will be another learning curve.
I keep telling the Lord that I am not made for this. I am not a nurse, I get too frustrated, I fuss too much. But, I know that this time will be a time to shave off some more rough edges on me. I will learn a bit more patience. I will learn how to care more. I will remember that this man is my heart. That his pain causes me pain and although I will try to joke my way through, inside I am praying that I can be what he needs for this time.
My life has been an adventure. I keep thinking it will all slow down, but, no, the adventures continue. Thanks for stopping by today, I appreciate it! DAF (Cathi)