That's Not The Tin Man

I'm going to be completely honest. I'm struggling this week. Every damn year it catches me off guard but subconsciously, I know it's coming. I can feel it, like some weird dark cloud off in the distance. Then, a few days before, WHAM! It all comes flooding back and I'm in that dead zone with my dead sister, all over again. 

All day today, I kept trying to find a way to refocus but work was spinning out of control and Bob wasn't home from an overnight trip yet. Everything felt wrong today. I just couldn't focus. Until he walked in the door.

Bob changes everything for me. Just his presence calms me. We don't have to say much, we have learned how to just be when we're together. I suppose that's the way with long-time married folks. The lucky ones anyway. Who am I kidding? Luck has had nothing to do with our marriage. It's been work, the kind that produces blood, sweat and tears along with some really great moments along the way. It hasn't always been easy. It has always been worth it.

I really like this guy. More than anything, Bob makes me laugh, which is one of my favorite things in this world. There's something healing in laughter, for me anyway. This photo is a few years old but I love it because it says so much. When we first met, Bob was definitely the introvert in the relationship. He was from a smaller family that behaved in public. I was not. He would never have done anything to draw attention to himself especially in public. I suppose he learned the art of wearing a sombrero, even  in public, from me and my family. And for that, all I can say is, you're welcome Hansen.

This has been our life for over 3 months now. Bob was out of town with work the day I fell and broke my ankle. Thank God, I had a friend that was able to come stay a few days until he made it home. The first week was the absolute worst. The pain was awful but the pain meds were worse. I don't do drugs well which is good as far as keeping a person on the straight and narrow of life. Not so good when you're in pain and need help. Over the last 3 months, Bob has taken care of me like only he can. He has held me when I cried, encouraged me when I felt hopeless and pushed me when I thought I couldn't do this whole old-lady broken ankle thing. I moved from the bed and bedside commode, which, if anyone is wondering, is absolutely disgusting and humiliating and should be banned in the United States. Bob had me up in a wheelchair and off the pain meds after that first week. After a few months, he was pushing me to use crutches and cheering me on when I'd crumble. This week, I'm walking with the boot and 1 crutch. He gets the credit. I'd still be in the bed crying. I really can't imagine my life without him.

Ok, maybe I think of strangling him at times but I'm still glad he's here. This photo is from the first few days after he made it home. I was having a terrible time getting to the bathroom. The meds had me loopier than ever and my blood pressure was lower than normal. The day I passed out in the bathroom, Bob went and bought the bedside commode. He brought it in the bedroom and was taking it out of the box and plastic as I laid in bed crying telling him I was not going to use it. That's when he decided to model it for me along with a narrative I cannot share. Of course, this had me laughing and realizing how ridiculous I was and also how ridiculously lucky to have this guy in my life. Also, I understand this is possibly TMI but when has that ever stopped me before? What, you don't poop?

Well, look at that! Writing about something I'm grateful for has shifted my dark mood. Thanks Hansen. For everything. I love you.