There Are No Words

It’s been a while since I wrote last. Generally, I write when I have something to say, but this time I am writing because I have nothing to say. My words have stopped working. Words are merely names we have given to feelings and emotions and things. They don’t begin to scratch the surface of the depth, the intensity, the fear, and the pain. A month and a half ago I almost lost my Yitzi, my heart, my soul, and my best friend. What words would even remotely work to describe that?  It is taking me a very long time to get past that. In the past, I have prepared for all sorts of emergencies, just in case something happens. I told myself-although we need to be prepared, thank G-d, we have never had an emergency. Now not only can I not say that but I know how one minute may mean all the difference in the world.  I fooled myself into thinking we are stable and are not in any imediate danger. So how can I possibly sleep? What if this time I don’t hear his machine’s alarm? How can I even think of traveling? Yitzi of course bounced back five minutes later. He has totally refocused on writing even more, learning even more, and telling the kids where they come from so they can see where they are going. He is so busy living in the best way possible, and I find that both amazing and slightly annoying.  He is thriving and I am not.

At the same time we have had a huge shift in our nurses. All of the nurses we had 4 months ago, left. One had a baby, one got an awesome job as a hospital administrator, three went back to school and the last was just working too many jobs. We have had some luck on getting new ones and will keep working at it until we are fully staffed. As you can imagine, or better yet, as I hope you cannot imagine, this has not made anything easier. The many nights I have stayed up just watching the man I love sleep- making sure he is still breathing and listening for any changes in the sounds of the flow of air- has made things even more challenging. It is  lonely to sit in silence just watching for hours on end. I can almost hear the sound of my heart breaking. If I ignore the tubes and the machines, I can fool myself into thinking nothing has changed, he is just sleeping.  I took a little break from anything public. No talks for two months, no traveling, and just focusing on my family. I thought this would be a good way to recharge and reassure the kids and find some sort of strength from somewhere so deep I am having a hard time locating it. I had hoped I could take the kids out on sundays, do things Yitzi used to do with them. The beach, the mountains, play games, ride horses, eat ice cream. But what I have done is stay up every weekend night and sleep all Sunday and cancel time after time on my kids. They know someone has to be nurse, but as they say, neither their father nor mother can do regular mommy and daddy things. I am so tired of disappointing them. Thankfully there are a few young men in the community that have been helping out the last few weekends and I actually got to take one daughter to the dentist but we have yet to make it to the horses. There are times when I wish we could lock the doors and hide from the world. Just hug the kids and focus on them. They want so much to be a regular family with privacy and routine. The younger three have really been struggling with the constant flow of people at all times. We tried implementing certain visiting hours. 

Monday through Thursday from 5pm and on is family time, but there has yet to be a day where it was enforced and that is my fault. I want Yitzi to be happy and he loves all of the visitors, and I have a really hard time saying no. But Yitzi has reminded me that he is a father and wants the kids to be happy and he will be happy if they are. So from here on we will be closing our door on occasion and perhaps telling you it’s not a good time. And hopefully soon the kids will feel 'normal' again.  

I am looking forward to a day when this trauma becomes the foundation to something positive that can be built on it, but for now, I am doing my best to practice what I preach.  Find things that bring some joy and some peace of mind. Be patient and kind to myself until I am able to stand a bit more firmly on my own two feet. And recognize that when things are not OK, its acceptable to not be OK (temporarily). I am looking forward to the day that I can once again smile from my heart.