Archive for August, 2015




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Sidelined by a song

As I go through this painful journey with my husband, my emotions are always right under the surface. Today, I was derailed by the Carrie Underwood, Brad Paisley song “Remind me”. 

I thought I was doing ok up until that point. Not so much. I haven’t been sleeping well at all. I miss the husband I used to know. 

So I found myself sitting in my car bawling my eyes out on the side of the road. Like a baby. Starting to question my vows. “For better or worse” what does that mean to me?

Does it mean that I take the personality change and just live with it? Does it mean that I don’t get to feel special and cherished anymore? I can’t just walk away. But where is the line?  

How long do I wait, in hopes for him to come back?

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Life (Part 4)

My husband got to come home July 28th.

Great end to the story right? Except, its not the end. Really, its just the beginning. As he gets stronger, with the help of physical therapists and nurse visits, he is definitely more vocal.

He gets to complain. About pretty much everything. I have to keep reminding myself that I really would be a total bitch, if I was in the same situation. Can you imagine? Going from being the “John Wayne” of our day, to an “at home patient” with minimal say in what he can take as far as medicine, food, or exercise.

Let me just say, I hate being the “caregiver”. I would rather be the “wife” and “friend” in this dynamic. I don’t know why I ever thought that this would be a simple adjustment. I thought that just bringing him home would be the ‘happily ever after’. It’s not. Caregivers have to do what is best for their patient. I would much rather say “oh honey, you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to!” I don’t like being the disciplinarian. It sucks.

The most painful part for me personally is that my heart is lonely and hurts. I want my husband back. I want someone to tell me that after this three month long nightmare, everything will be okay. I want someone to tell me, that all this will be worth all the pain, stress, and crying. I want someone to look me in the eye and tell me that no matter what, they won’t stop walking with me. I want someone to tell me that I will be a wife again, that my kids will have their old Dad back. The simple tragedy here is that no one, on this earth, can tell me that. No one ever could.

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The simple things

In August, Texas is hotter than hot! It’s an oppressive heat. Stifling anything and everything. Simple things become very important.

Berry season is in full swing. Strawberries are beautifully red and incredibly sweet. So, I sat down this evening and had a bowl of sweet sweet strawberries and cream. 

It’s the simple beauty of God’s creation; made for our enjoyment and nourishment. It’s the simple things.

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