Whew. May has been a whirlwind of craziness and we only halfway through this month. I’m decidedly nervous for what the rest of May holds for me and my family.
First things first, thank you so much for the thoughts, prayers, and kind words that you poured down on us. I feel truly and wonderfully blessed that I am surrounded by so much love.
My husband is home from the hospital. The antibiotics are working and he now believes that one day he might actually feel good. Someday, years from now. I tell you, pneumonia is a beast.
We lucked out and the hubster didn’t have any blood clots in his lungs, despite earlier suspicions. However. (There’s always a however at my house.) However, a few separate doctors indicated that they were concerned with certain aspects of his lungs. So he will need to have another CT scan in four to six weeks, after the pneumonia clears up, to rule out anything serious.
Just for the record, learning that there is possibly something wrong with your husband’s lungs less than a year after your father passes away from lung cancer is a good way to LOSE YOUR FREAKIN’ MIND.
So I am doing my own rendition of whistling in the dark and pretending that everything is great (which, odds are, is probably the case.) I do a great job at acting all jovial until someone is very kind to me. And then I am reduced to blubbering like an idiot. Therefore, please don’t be nice to me for the next four to six weeks.
But, focusing on the positive, my husband is home and feeling better. I have started getting caught up on all the laundry, dirty dishes, school work, and the obscene amounts of clutter than seem to have multiplied ten fold over the past three days. Additionally, the children have been spoiled rotten by their grandmother and aunt.
Best of all, we all have a renewed sense of what is truly important in life. (Nothing like a serious illness to remind you of what matters most.) Despite running around like a chicken with its head chopped off, I find myself pausing to hug, touch, and squeeze the people I love a little more often.
The kids feel the same way. Last night all of us ended up sleeping in the same bedroom just so we could be a little closer to each other. Until, that is, the five year old shoved her brother from her blanket cocoon on the floor, yelling “You’re breathing all my AIR. I’m out of here.” After which she stomped off to her own bed.
Five year olds are really, really good at keeping it real.