The day before my grandfathers funeral, Dean was on his way to work and was t-boned in an intersection by a reckless driver who ran a red light. If those airbags did not deploy, my husband would be dead. Those airbags saved his life. There is nothing on this earth that prepares you for the “your husband was in an accident” wake up phone call from the police. You know what else you’re never prepared for? Seeing your soul mate covered in blood, bruises, and glass being stitched up by a doctor after you’ve waited for an hour for him to be transferred from trauma to emergency. NOTHING prepares you for that. Any of it. It still fucks with my head to this day and it’s been a little over 2 months now.
It was a 48 hour whirlwind of running to the hospital, running to the towing yard to recover some urgent documents from the mangled car, running to pharmacies for wound care needs and prescriptions, helping my spouse function, helping my mom prepare for the funeral, pressing suits and finding an outfit for myself, going toa funeral and literally holding up my husband while we stood in a receiving line, faces blurred as they walked past… it’s all a blur really. A chaotic, exhausting whirlwind. It’s a fucked up feeling to be mourning someone while simultaneously giving thanks and feeling gratitude for the life of someone else being saved.
But there’s no rest for me. There never is. The minute I seal up one crack, the next one forms. The day after the funeral, the accident recovery began. Actually it began in the waiting room of the trauma center where I spent the longest hour of my life making phone calls to family, insurance, police, towing companies… it was the only way I could get through that painfully long hour waiting for Dean to go from Trauma to Emergency just so I could see him. I cannot even imagine how long it was for him waiting for me either. But then they called me back and I saw him there in the room, a doctor stitching up his arm and removing glass chunks, his head secured by a neck brace, his eye bruised and swollen, blood and glass all over his body… but I saw him and he was alive and we both started sobbing. in the blink of an eye I could have lost him. I was a painful dose of reality.
The first week of recovery was spent dealing with doctors, insurance companies, running back and forth across the Beltway, and a very hurt husband who needed a lot of support. I spent more time in hospitals and doctor’s offices in those first two weeks than I have all year. My good eating habits were thwarted by lousy hospital food and the complete inability to force myself to eat. As a result, my carefully regimented eating plan went out the window and I gained 10 pounds. Then it got worse. By week two we were forced to lawyer up and I can’t go into why nor can I discuss the accident any further. (I’ve probably written too much in this entry already.) I hate that I cannot get into this and cannot discuss how I feel about this. I hate that I have to wait this out for several months before I can speak further. I HATE IT.
All I can say is that a LOT of unexpected expenses came up as a result of this plot twist and the need to hire a lawyer, and before I knew it, our fertility fund was gone. No seriously, it’s GONE. All our bills are paid, we won’t go into collections, our insurance stepped up for the time being, and we have a car again, but our fertility fund is fucking GONE. I can’t even begin to describe how heartbreaking this is. We’ve wanted a baby and have been trying for two years and just when we were about to get there, we were de-railed AGAIN. I’m still in disbelief that our money is fucking GONE.
It was at this point that I pulled one of my classic maneuvers and I shut down. Dean and I hit rock bottom. It was not looking good for us and I think we both wondered what the fuck we were even doing in this relationship. Everything just became too fucking hard to deal with and we both wanted to shut down and quit everything. Our jobs, our lives, each other… we just gave up. I wont lie, I prayed a LOT at this point for anything to get us out of this. I hoped a trip out of town would help. It did for a few days, but it turns out you can’t run from your life because when you get back in town, it’s still there waiting for you. That’s not to say our mini vacation to ComicCon wasn’t absolutely amazing and more fun than I ever could have imagined. It just means I tried to put a band-aid on our life with a vacation and it didn’t work.
At some point, being the stubborn ass that I am, I decided enough was enough. I wasn’t ready to give up on everything. Hindsight being 20/20 I think I’ve pinpointed the moment where we started to turn back around. We went on a camping trip on our anniversary. I think just about everything that could go wrong DID go wrong that first night, we fought the next morning, and then something shifted. I felt it in my bones. It was like a prayer was answered and I physically felt it. The sun came out and we went for a drive in the state park we were camping in. Everything looked different. It was our anniversary – we’d made it to the one year mark. WE SURVIVED! After eating a simple meal, we decided to make s’mores by the fire and talk. We started to do some soul searching and examine our lives. We started counting our blessings rather than curse our current situation. We started to pull each other up out of the muck we were surrounded in. We made a plan to get the fuck through this and be each others rock like we’re supposed to be.
It got easier at that point to deal with every twist and turn thrown at us. Oh, and there have twists. And turns. And now another surgery to contend with and more time off needed from work. But I know we’ll get through it just like we get through everything else and I’ll keep filling in every new crack that forms in our foundation and keep making it stronger. I’ll continue to seek the divine purpose for everything that happens and accept what needs to be accepted. I’ll keep pushing on and on and on because I know that if I do it will eventually get easier. Either that, or I’ll build up one hell of a tolerance!
We’re going to keep trying for a baby naturally and in the new year we plan to go back to the clinic, but this time we’re asking for our families to help with the funding. There may also be inheritance money that could be freed up to help our cause. The point is, I’m done worrying about it and I’m done forcing us to save every damn penny for this endeavor. Having a child has it’s own difficulties – we don’t need to add to it.
And with that positive attitude we plunge head first into the holidays. Oy vey.