When I was younger, my brother broke his leg.
We each remember the event slightly differently, but he broke it on the trampoline and it was broken in multiple places. He had a huge cast for awhile, then moved to a smaller cast and as soon as he could, he was back to jumping on the trampoline.
Hey, when you were a child in the 80's and your family did not have cable TV, there wasn't a lot to do- desperate times call for desperate measures.
I remember that he was stuck on the couch and couldn't do anything until some of those broken bones healed- he had a compound fracture.
I feel like today, I got one of those.
I had this extremely crappy experience at the doctor's office- like - off the charts crappy and I need to file a complaint crappy. I had anticipated just a regular visit, the same as they have been for about 2 years and instead, I had to deal with my doctor's associate who needed to pee all over me and claim me as one of her own- and her own do NOT treat chronic, degenerative osteoarthritis the same way my doctor does. She changed every medication and proceeded to interrogate and accuse me of a dozen things she just imagined in her head. She couldn't even see my medical records, she just changed everything based on looking at me and her own, personal prejudices. I felt attacked, humiliated and it made me panic as she put me on the spot and twisted everything I said. When we're in panic mode, our brains stop working right and I just kind of shut down and let her do what she was hell-bent on doing, then got in my car and started to cry.
By the time I was home, I was hysterical.
The meds change crap will be fixed, I'm sure. She was a jerk and she was wrong. She isn't my doctor and I don't ever have to see her again. We'll call my regular doctor and get things fixed. Matt will call the office and be the "red' I adore.
It will be fixed.
It's not that.
It's that she was so confrontational and I wasn't expecting it, and it didn't just make me uncomfortable, it scared me. I had a nice panic attack, worrying that I was going to start all over again trying to find relief from my stupid arthritis and remembering how hard it was before my doctor and I found what would work. This idea of being in pain all of the time while I had to defend myself to a doctor was overwhelmingly scary.
I called my husband and my sister and cried o the shoulder of my son, Parker, and then proceeded to absolutely break into a million pieces.
It felt like a compound fracture in my heart.
I started to heave and slobbery sob, and I heard myself say "Just come home, Zane!" out loud to no one.
I've been working really hard at putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward and just hoping and praying that because this is the RIGHT thing, it won't be so hard, but this is very, very hard. Today, when that horrible woman was such a raging jerk to me and just made my life harder for no other reason than it was a Thursday and she didn't like the way I looked or something- that little break she imposed on my soul added to what I was already struggling to manage enough that I fell apart over everything.
I told Matt I just want to go back to Utah, back when it was all easy and we could just be Mom and Dad with our little kids and the bar was set at such a place that all we had to really do was manage to not break up.
Not breaking up was considered a huge win for our new life together in Utah with seven wild and needy kids.
We had a rickety porch that we needed to make sure no kids died on, a bad dog that we needed to make sure didn't die from eating too much of his own poop and Karin would talk to our children through the fence and the Andrus kids would play in their absolutely perfectly manicured back yard, next to our wild weed patch. I know it was all hard, but today- I wanted to go back, back to 'little' back to just being Mom and Dad and gong out for milkshakes and playing Wii fit and having cold cereal picnics. I wanted to go back to knowing all seven of my babies would be giggling, arguing and eventually sleeping under my roof and the next morning, the best thing we could do is wake them up and take them to McDonald's in their pajamas. Then we could make cupcakes and load everyone up and spend the day wading in the stinky waters at Saltair, or yelling at them to be careful as they climbed trees in Sugarhouse Park.
None of the kids were going anywhere, and the bulk of our lives was about being parents and making sure each one of the seven knew they were loved, they were wanted and we were a family. Matt worked 2 minutes away and a fancy night out involved seeing if Sunnie and Chad wanted to grab some food or going to the Hale Center Theater to see some show where the tickets were a pricey $30 each. If we really wanted to play grown up, we'd take in a session at the Jordan River Temple.
Today, as I crumbled and folded, all of those memories flooded me and I just wanted to go back and be that version of me again. I didn't want to be New Jersey Chris with grown up kids and teenagers who is one of the older moms of the ward. I didn't want to be the Chris with actual responsible person level church callings and whose husband leaves and comes home while it is dark.
I didn't want to be the Chris that won't see her son for two years and who won't talk to him until Mother's Day, who can't just call him on the phone and have him make her laugh when she's having a hard day, but doesn't want anyone to see.
I love my life here, I love the changes and the people in my life, but it I never quite feel like I'm really caught up, if that makes sense. My heart drags when my body has no choice but to move forward and sometimes, my heart leaps forward and my body freezes and doesn't seem to follow fast enough.
The years would have passed anyway, kids would have grown up and moved out and Zane would be gone anyway- I know that.
I just don't know how to have that not hurt, to not cause tiny little fractures in my little heart with each new grown-up thing that happens.
I don't know how to be as strong as I think I need to be.
It wasn't that stupid doctor, she was just another injury- a minor one in the grand scope of things, but it was enough that I couldn't keep moving forward today.
Today, every ounce of bravado I had been showing, that mask of a brave and strong woman who totally had her act together-- collapsed in a heap on the couch in the family room and cried for a good 6 hours. That not-so-strong woman is still wiping away big fat tears as she reminds herself that all things have a beginning and all things have an end- even suffering.
My brother had a big, white cast on his leg for such a long time, it seemed. I remember being bored because we did everything together and realizing I wasn't anywhere near as bored as he was, with that monster of cast that was both preventing him from having fun and making sure that he would have as much fun as ever down the road.
I remember deciding to help him get through it, since his trial was so much worse than mine and before long, he was better.
I know the answers for me lie in helping others get through trials that are so much worse than mine and that will help the time to not just pass, but to mean something and to heal some of those little fractures I'm feeling.
I'm just not steady and sure right now.
I'm not sure how to be a real grown up right now, in what is the sunset of motherhood for me.
I don't have a great ending for this post, because I'm a wreck. I needed to write my feelings out and acknowledge that it's not all pride and gusto when your kid leaves for 2 years. You also get really sad and scared and miss him, you just also feel guilty for that and you don't talk about it.
I have courage, I have faith, I just also have a more tender heart that I let on.
That tender heart is in pieces tonight, I have a compound fracture in my heart.
It will heal, but it hurts and I'm going to be laid up for a bit.