D-Day (for Decision)

Well, it is 1 a.m. and I can't sleep. In 3-1/2 hours we will officially be up, readying ourselves for the trip northeast, and on our way to pick up Kim, Brandy, and Cory. Calmer tonight than all the others -- resignation is the thing we feel most right now. Whatever happens later this morning, whatever "they" decide, we are resigned to. I've tried for over an hour to get to sleep, but it's not happening. After listening to Bucky talk in his sleep and snore, I finally got up and headed for the first floor. He awoke to ask me if I was okay, I said I couldn't sleep and he said he hadn't been able to, either. I said, oh, yes, you have -- I've been listening to you snoring and talking in your sleep.

So, here I sit in the quiet of the family room, waiting for the clock to shake us out of our rest and the sun to light the way to New York. Hopefully when I check back in later today, I'll have a positive, pro-active plan to report thanks to our two doctor visits this morning.

At the Wire

Again we get up at the crack of noon. Today we just laid in bed awhile and talked about people we know who have had neurosurgery. We are goal oriented at this point -- let's get this show on the road! This time tomorrow we will have been through the ultrasound and Dr. Olin's visit, probably having lunch and waiting for the hours to pass till we see Dr. Patel. I think Kim would like to see the kids before she leaves; I'm hoping dinner with them tonight is a possibility. Brandy has taken Kim to the beach for the day; I doubt it will be an all-day thing, as Kim tires so easily. Kim told me yesterday that if she's hospitalized in NYC for the procedure, it will be hard not seeing the kids for a few days. I know what she means.....going through that with Cory's new job and not having our Wednesday and Friday connections like we used to do is hard on us. Finding a job and going back to work once Kim is okay will make it even harder, as we won't be able to pick Addie and Ben up from daycare once in a while as we've done the past few weeks. Life is changing for us, one way or another.

Down to the Wire But Doing Better

Today was better, though we're still sleeping late each day. We've finally come to the acceptance stage of Kim's situation -- as Cory put it yesterday, "we can't change what's already happened." So we've gotten past the all the hysteria (at least temporarily) to the acceptance stage, and putting the whole thing in the hands of experts. All the "what-ifs" and so forth will be answered by the experts on Friday. Kim is about where we are. We brought her to our house and then out to get some late lunch today, and she is at the acceptance stage, too. We've actually been able to discuss the fact that any procedure that is done may be life-altering, and were actually able to joke about her possible future vegetative state (a new character for Veggie Tales -- Kim, the Karaoke-singing Kucumber).

The person hit hardest right now is Bucky. As I write this, he is napping again. He whose lot in life has been to provide for and take care of his family is feeling inadequate and helpless. I know that on Friday he will be his usual stalwart self, but right now he is trying to catch up on many lost hours of sleep these past couple of weeks. I'm okay, again, as last night, focusing on what needs to be done to prepare for the trip Friday morning. Kim has her two new pairs of pajamas, we've got our books and I'm assembling my crocheting/knitting bag with things to keep me busy while we sit and wait, assuming we'll have to do that this weekend. We put together Kim's file of hospital records and CDs of her MRI and angiogram, so the essential stuff is in one place. One more night (tonight) of sleep before the ball is in motion -- I say that because Thursday night will probably be a resting experience, with probably zero in the REM sleep department. Better to get up and go and get things going.

If This Is Tuesday, We Must be Closer to Friday

So, Bucky and are still in bed at 11:30 this morning. Cory has read my blog from yesterday, and says to herself, "These people are really depressed -- I've gotta help them." So she calls on the phone and asks us to join her for lunch. We hurriedly dress and pick her up at AI. With much reassurance, she got us through lunch and we are doing okay tonight. Cory sent us an email from an FMD patient who has had FMD on both of her carotid arteries, and we read explicitly what surgery she had. Although the procedures sound ghastly, she is alive to describe them, so that in itself is very reassuring to us. Tonight we are a bit more resigned to whatever happens on Friday -- we know that some intervention is absolutely necessary, and the risk of not doing anything about the aneurysm outweighs any other possibility. It is our fervent hope that whatever procedure is in order happens quickly. I don't know how we will deal with a delay of another couple of weeks. It has been unbearable thinking about that damned aneurysm, knowing it's sitting there, capable of erupting at any time, wanting to hover over Kim but knowing it's not healthy for her or us to do that. As a parent, I've spoken many times about "inhaling" one of the kids up the stairs safely when she was little and she was precariously attempting the stairs herself, headed toward me. If I lunged forward to grab her, it could send her flying backwards, so I literally pulled myself back from the stairs into the hall, forcing the child to keep heading toward me. I feel like I'm doing that now, inhaling Kim away from the aneurysm, stroke, anesthesia, surgery. I obviously can do nothing to protect her from all of these, but my maternal connection is so strong, I feel like if I breathe for her, she won't have to breathe so hard. Just as I write this, I feel myself tightening my breathing, and reminding myself to relax (gotta look that one up in the dictionary -- can't remember what it means) and breathe.

So tonight, as I prepare to sleep, I am focusing on things I must do to prepare for the trip to NYC -- laundry is now done, and we must prepare an overnight bag just in case she is admitted Friday night. I've bought her a couple pairs of pajamas -- she'll feel better if she's not wearing the hospital johnnies. I'm thinking about things to take in the car to keep her spirits up and her blood pressure down. Even though she'll probably sleep all the way up, she's tired so much of the time. I have only two more nights to enter additional blogs before we head to New York. When this is over, I'm promising myself to get a really good massage. There's this one spot at the top of my back, right betwen the shoulders, that's just so tight. My whole back is so tense right now, my neck hurts, and my head feels heavy. Pobably sympathy pangs for Kim. I think a big sigh of relief is in order, but we'll just have to wait.

If Monday's Like THIS, Can't Imagine Tuesday

Okay, so we both wake up around 10:30 this morning. Bucky's looking at me; I roll over and now I am looking at him. His first words are: I feel terrible.....I don't want to get up. He does anyway, goes to the bathroom, and I suggest he just get back in bed. He asks me to hold him. He feels useless, frightened, helpless. And today is only Monday.....we have Tuesday through Thursday to go through yet, and then the long ride to NYC. He slowly falls back to sleep, for another blessed hour; I rise and go about sorting laundry and putzing around, keeping myself busy, trying not to think about. But I still do. At 12:30 he calls for me -- he doesn't want to be alone right now, and neither do I, particularly. We need each other for moral support. He dresses and joins me on the first floor.

I convinced Bucky at 1 p.m. to go to Borders to stock up on reading supplies for the week and weekend. Then a nice lunch at Cheeseburger in Paradise. Without even thinking about it, the conversation turns to Friday and what to expect, revisiting the size of the aneurysm and the stability of Kim's carotid artery, assuring each other everything will be okay, even though we haven't a clue exactly what will happen. At one point I bury my head in my hands. I feel his hand brushing through my hair, assuring me everything will be okay. But his face doesn't look reassuring.

We got home around around 3:30; I went down to my studio to work on a project, needed something from Jo-Ann's, and told him I'd be back in a while. I get home around 5:30 -- he sits in the family room, reading a book. I sit on the couch and then he says, "I need to go upstairs and rest my eyes for a while." Our daylight hours seems to be shrinking day by day. Again, that feeling of uselessness overtakes us, and the best way to get past it is to sleep and escape the current maelstrom we are going through. I can only imagine how Kim is dealing with this....I dare not keep bothering her to see how she is.....she is as she was yesterday and the day before and the day before that....scared, tired, and aware that her condition is beyond hers or our control at this point. This isn't something we can put a band-aid on, give a little kiss to, and it will be gone in a day or two.

T-Five Days and Counting

Today was a peaceful day.....only twelve hours of sleep since last night! We spent the day watching the Men's Final at Wimbledon, then scooted down to Cory and Brian's for lasagna and apple cake. Ben was awake the whole time and we had a great time playing with him. Addie woke up AFTER dinner and we spent the after-dinner time dancing in the living room and enjoying general mayhem.

Conversation at dinner focused on the upcoming July 11th visits in NYC; we are all hopeful that decisions will be made that day to bring a swift end to Kim's dilemma. To have to wait a few more weeks for her procedure to stop the aneurysm is too awful to think about.

Early to bed tonight -- midnight; back up at the crack of noon or later tomorrow.

An Eight-Hour Day

The 4th of July came and went much as we had planned. We had invited Brian's parents, brother and nephew to join our family for a backyard celebration of the holiday. I woke up earlier than normal to make my traditional potato salad and baked beans; Bucky and I set up tables in the back yard, rearranged the patio furniture to sit near the water slide Cory and Brian brought, and cans and bottles of various beverages were packed into coolers so they were ready when someone needed refreshing. Cory ran over to Kim's to bring her to our house. When Kim arrived around noon she said she felt tired. It was a lovely afternoon with the little ones having a blast hurtling down the water slide, Brian thrusting himself down the kiddie slide, evoking giggles and squeals from the little ones as he splashed him like a performing orca at Sea World. We all enjoyed sitting under the umbrella with a little mist spraying on the non-sliders and cool drinks and snacks at arm's length when needed. Lots of good conversation, laughs, child juggling among adults, hot-tubbing. Kim was pleasant but you could tell she is depressed. She dared not attempt sliding down the water slide and landing in the pool -- such actions would have earned harsh screams from us, and she certainly wants to do nothing that causes her head to jerk around or get snapped quickly.

Just for a few hours everything was "normal". We ate burgers and hot dogs and all the other stuff around 2:30; shortly afterward, Kim went upstairs to nap -- she said she was really tired. Her nap lasted three hours. She awoke in time to freshen up to go to the Fireworks at Swift Park. Everybody went their own way to their respective cars and reconnected at the Park. Kim came with us; Ben got to come along in the car seat and enjoy Elmo on the DVD enroute. Addie was NOT happy with this decision of privelege. Cory's promise of a reward for being a big girl by going in her own car with Mommy and Daddy finally calmed her down.

We were lucky to get a parking space close to the park. Just a few steps and we were there. It was sprinkling a bit when we first arrived, but then the showers stopped and we were having a very comfortable evening. Brandy arrived shortly after we did, having gotten out of work and driving straight to meet us there. As the fireworks time approached, we remarked how lucky we were that the rain had stopped. Big mistake. With just minutes till launch, we started feeling rain, and by the time they were finally airborne, we were all getting drenched. In the past couple of years, the fireworks displays were a bit diappointing. This year -- we assume because it is an election year and financing was probably more generous from the local politicos -- the display was phenomenal. Two different times we thought we were witnessing the finale, only to have another burst of rounds shortly thereafter. When the finale finally did come, it was spectacular, and we all limped back to our cars, clothing drenched, quilts and ground coverings soaked, stroller seats in puddles. Kim and Brandy went home in Brandy's car, Bucky and I went home by ourselves.

TJ called at 10 p.m., assuming correctly that we were just about home from the fireworks, to say hi. Bucky and I stayed up till 2 watching movies. When we finally went to bed, we were beat.

I have no idea what happened the morning and early afternoon of July 5th. We arose from our slumber at 3:55 p.m. It took us a half hour to get the back yard back in order after the celebration of the 4th, and the biggest focus was on our patio where Addie and Graham made "tree stew" out of dirt, mulch, salsa, and Cory's snicker salad dessert she surprised us with. Bucky had to use the power sprayer to get the dirt out of the wicker furniture, out of the cracks between the patio blocks, out of the various beach utensils the kids had used to mix their concoction. When it was all cleaned up, we were exhausted again. Let's see -- it's about 4:30, we've been up less than an hour, and we're already exhausted. How do you spell DEPRESSION: Tired, tired, tired. Except for some plant clipping and reading out in the garden, we did little else today. A trip to Outback for a nice dinner, then back home to read and relax. We will be in bed by midnight -- I believe this will go on record as the shortest day of my life, and I believe Bucky's too. The topic of this coming Friday comes up repeatedly in our conversations, and we are willing ourselves to that day by sleeping more and having less awake time to count the minutes. We can't wait for the 11th to be over, to finally know what is going to happen, to see something proactive in returning Kim to good health. Today is an eight-hour day. I wonder how many awake hours we'll have tomorrow.