Scars

My husband was at a store the other day and a guy in the same aisle started staring wide eyed at the jagged unforgiving red and purple lines that encompass his entire arm. The scars that leave a mystery to the unassuming yet tell a story of life changing in an instant.

It was obvious that he was trying to figure out what he had to have done to end up with an arm that disfigured and fingers slightly curved and paralyzed in place. It wasn't long before his curiousity finally got the best of him.

"What happened to your arm?" he blurted out, as though it were any of his business.

This is usually the part where I would've explained what happened, which is usually followed by apologetic looks of sympathy and a mumbled thank you for your service.

My husband simply said, "I got hurt." He left it at that and walked away because he's not about to be into all of that hero stuff.

At one time, his body had over a thousand stitches. In the first few months after he was released from the hospital, people would stare when we went out somewhere. Eating was awkward for him because he couldn't hold any utensils and it took some practice learning to use his non-dominate hand. Sometimes I had to cut up his food for him because he couldn't do it. Even now he'll randomly drop things or spill something because there's no strength in his arm or his hand just won't work.

We take so much stuff for granted. Sometimes the smallest things are the biggest challenges for someone else. He works hard at just being normal and making the most out of the hand that he's been dealt, that sometimes I forget he's wounded. I don't really notice the scars and to our kids they are just a part of who he is. We spent so much time at the hospital and in lodging around other wounded warriors that the kids learned to just be accepting of everyone else. I never had to tell them not to point and stare or not to ask questions. If you ask my oldest what she remembers most about her daddy being in the hospital, she'll probably tell you that her little Lightning McQueen car fell down into the elevator shaft. Or maybe she'll recall blowing out four birthday candles while sitting on the hospital bed.

Sometimes I miss being at that hospital and being around other wounded warriors and their families. As stressful as it was at times, there's comfort in being surrounded people people who just simply get it and understand the same sudden detour that our lives took. We never had to worry about people staring or asking questions. Everyone had some sort of battle scars, telling their own stories without words, yet connecting them all from where they'd been.

20 Months

It's hard for me to believe that we are closing in on my husband's 2nd Alive Day. I never thought we would be here for 2 years. It feels like we're so close to the next chapter, the end is in sight but we're still not quite there. We've been talking about my moving with one or both of the kids over the summer, so we won't have to have our daughter switch schools in the middle of the year. I said something to my counselor about it and she thought I was talking about a marital separation. I'm not looking forward to living in separate states, but being a military family, I guess we're just accustomed to being apart. That aside, we just have to get on with our lives and I need to get back to working full time again and find a house, etc. It feels like our lives have been on hold for 20 months. 20 months and 20 surgeries, and surprise, there's another one coming up. Soon it will be 21 months and 21 surgeries.

Not to be outdone, I'll be having surgery myself later this month. I've decided that I hate been and having the metabolism of a teenager and would prefer to have no metabolism at all. All kidding aside, I'm having a thyroidectomy to treat my Graves' Disease. I could've had it treated with RAI, and not be cut open but without going into detail, I think surgery is the right option for me. It's certainly not an overnight decision, in fact, I've been thinking about it for about 4 years now.

Today I finally did something that I've also been talking about since my husband was released from the hospital. I went to the spa on post and had a deep tissue massage and a deluxe pedicure. Eight years ago, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. It used to bother me a lot more but now it's more infrequent, but when I have a flare up, it's still pretty uncomfortable. The best way I that I can describe it is that it's like a nauseating pain and achy feeling. I have these trigger points that are very painful when pressure is applied to them and that's exactly what I had done today. I've read that a deep tissue massage is a good choice for fibromyalgia patients but painful and it was indeed painful and I'm definitely tender but surviving just fine. What put it into perspective for me and made me realize that it was pretty trivial, was when my massage therapist was telling me about one of his regular clients who is a wounded warrior who lost both of his arms and both legs overseas. It really makes you feel grateful for what you have.

It's the little things...

I left my laptop at the old house by mistake so I'm borrowing Paul's but I just had to blog that Paul squeezed my hand with his left hand! Now it wasn't much at all and pretty much no strength but that was a huge deal since he hasn't held my hand with that one since before he left. He still doesn't have any feeling in his pinky and can only slightly bend and wiggle his other fingers but each day he makes a little more progress.

This weekend went by quick and we have a lot to do tomorrow so I'm off to bed but just wanted to share something that sounds like a small thing but is still a huge step for him.