Been There...Done That

Flashbacks. Have you ever had one? For some reason I've been having them a lot. It mostly happens in the evening as Mark and I are lying in the bed. His favorite thing to do is put head in my lap and have me rub his back and run my fingers through his hair. Lately as I am performing this ritual, I have focused on the concave curvature of the left side of his head. I watch as his pulse beats in the spot that has no bone to protect his brain. And I cry. I'm taken back to that ugly, dark night and the many dark days that followed. I can see his swollen head and face, the staples covering each side of head, the sweat that is pooling on his face, neck and chest, the drains that are coming out his head filled with blood and spinal fluid, the respirator keeping him alive. I can smell the "cerebral odor" that comes with brain injuries, the alcohol from the many injections he gets. I can feel the chill of the room trying to keep his body temperature down. I can hear the beep of the monitors as he pulls off his pulse oximeter and the leads come off of his chest from all of the sweat. It's as if I'm right there in the ICU again. And it's horrible. It's overwhelming. It's heartbreaking. And I cry.

Last night as I held him close to me, my heart ached for him. He's so discouraged, unhappy, depressed and lost. And there's nothing I can do for him. There's no way for me to help him. "I love you" only goes so far. He feels helpless from all that has happened to him and our family. I feel helpless that I can't do anything about it. It's been 10 months and I'm not sure we're any better off than we were 8 months ago. It's all just too much sometimes. I'm ready for the roller coaster to stop. I need to get off.

Blessing of the Week: eternal companions