There and Back

Well friends, it's been a year. A year since we went into the hospital with pneumonia and came out with a tracheostomy. A year since Yitzi could communicate with his phone to the whole world. A year since he could drive anywhere in his wheelchair by himself. A year since I was enough to take care of him. 

We went into the hospital one way and came out totally different. The doctor told me that his life will be easier but mine would get infinitely harder. He told it to me as a warning, like a gentle question. "Can you handle that?" Of course, do whatever it takes. Thinking I understood what that means is like imagining you will handle childbirth. It was shocking. It took a long while to get used to this new life, for Yitzi, myself, our families and friends. The first month was a page out of a horror story. The next eight months out of a tragedy. The last few months have been good, thank G-d. What is good?  We are managing. We have reliable help, and there have been no traumas. We are steady and managing. The kids started a new year, life is continuing and we are taking part in it. Yitzi has mastered the art of communicating with his eye gaze computer and has more guest then most people I know. He has a very active social life and has found a way to balance all the changes he has been given better then imaginable. He is still a fabulous teacher, an involved father and a romantic husband. He learns daily and is as funny as ever. He even fixed the air conditioner this week. He told us the problem and how to fix it. He is annoyingly always right and if only my brain worked half as well as his does, I would be in pretty good shape. He writes me a letter every Friday, and writes the kids as well. He is in touch with many of their teachers and checks up on them weekly. I am in awe of him. When we got married, I knew how special and unique he is, yet watching it to this level is absolutely a marvel. That being said, I so miss the days when it wasn't heroic to smile and to laugh and to just enjoy the family. When it didn't take superhuman strength to do everyday things. When there was no clock reminding us to enjoy every second. When we were just us. Although we are doing the best we can, we long for the day where we can breath a sigh of relief. Where our hopes have changed from thoughts and prayers to actions and reality. Where we can speak to each other and sing together. Where we can dance and play guitar, where we can be like we were, yet so much better for all we have experienced.