Well, as you all know, Mac had his scope last week and while everything went well, it seems my coping skills were not the best. Certain areas of the hospital gave me a bit of flash back response. There was some pacing and need to escape. I didn't think much of it, but a friend of mine says I was exhibiting signs of post traumatic stress.
Well, this is a head scratcher! I always knew that I thought a little differently then other people. Not that I am diminished in any way, actually I just thought I had gotten TOO MANY bricks stacked in certain areas. The results however are the same... I'm a little off plumb.
I remember when Mac was first diagnosed with leukemia. We had made plans to go to our first Parelli event just weeks before he was diagnosed. There was the seven week hospital stay... going septic.... the ICU experience... on and on. Then we went home. We were only home a week before the Parelli event and I was just not going to go. I was going to stay home and make sure Mac took his pills and ate and slept. All the stuff I knew I was suppose to do.
Mac urged me to go. Other people told me I had earned it. I needed the rest. Eventually I was talked in to it. I was terrified of leaving but I did it. I went to my first Parelli tour stop. At break I went looking for something to take home to Mac. I got him a baseball cap and stood in line to get it signed by Pat Parelli. After quite a wait, I made it to the front of the line. My intent had been to say, " Hi, Pat! I would like you to sign this hat for my husband. He has been in the hospital with leukemia and isn't able to make it himself." Perhaps every third word made it out. After weeks of holding it in... weeks of pretending that everything would be good.... weeks of exuding the confidence that all would return to normal... I had to have my breakdown, in line,
in front of Pat. Gushing tears, contorted face.... it was awful!
He was decent. He was kind. He just looked at me and asked, "Do you need a hug?"" He gave me a squeeze and told me his niece had had leukemia as a child and was a healthy grown woman now. During the rest of the tour stop I would feel like his eyes would on occasion fall on me and it made me feel better. I went home stronger, more rested and ready to cope.
This time though... after the transplant, after the liver complication, after the graft vs. host... I don't know what normal is anymore. I can't seem to have a break down. There are a few things that might tear me up a little, but that's about it. Maybe it is too much. Maybe I have gone a little touched in the brain. Perhaps I am a wacky wafer. I don't know.
Oh well, everybody has to be something.