Laughter heals

Even though my journey has been full of everything that is meant to break a person, it has done everything but that.  I strongly believe that the way we see the world is what makes us or breaks us.  We can choose to cry for ourselves and wonder why bad things happen or we can take these struggles and grow.  This morning, the sun is shining, my girls are playing a board game together in the dining room while I make breakfast, Kirk is healing, we have music playing as we all bob our heads.  8 weeks ago today, our world was shaken when Kirk was shot in the line of duty.  There was uncertainty and fear for what the days ahead would hold. But here we are this beautiful morning and we are better than okay.

The day that Kirk came home, I was scared.  The idea of a rehab facility was out of the question for us.  I took an emergency leave from work and decided without a doubt, that I would take care of him.  A wheelchair, wound care, medications, acute blood loss, therapies and all.  I was scared but knew I could do it.  Kirk is the strongest person I've ever known so I knew we would could do it together.  Pushing him out of the SICU that day, was just the beginning.  Kirk was somber and quiet as he tackled the first transfer into the van and ride home.  His friends and I made the drive home and they helped me get him up the new ramp that his co-workers built over the front steps and into our new "normal".  Born from these scary firsts and unknowns, we have had experiences and adventures that have brought both tears and laughs.  

The first few weeks that he was home, I feared so many things especially him falling or something going wrong. I would check on him after showering, dressing or doing anything that took 10 minutes or longer.  He wouldn't tell me if he needed something especially if it would wake me up, so I had no choice but to hover.  And hover I did!  He won't admit it, but I'm pretty sure he finds joy in watching me panic or worry so in his own ways, provokes that.  But little did he know, I could keep up with that game!  I've had to threaten to take his walker away in order to reduce my worry (although I never actually did).  But the texts that followed with his parents in regards to me threatening to take away his mode of transportation, have made my face hurt from laughing so hard.  

Early into this journey, it was very difficult for Kirk to sleep in bed between the discomfort and positioning of his hand and leg so sleeping in the lazy boy was easiest.  But there was a night he wanted to try to get into bed.  As I said, he didn't like to wake me when he needed something but I am a light sleeper, so usually did any way.  That night he tried to sleep in bed, he tried to roll over...of course waking me.  I was half asleep and reached out for him when I felt his movement, but couldn't find him.  I yelled "KIRK, WHERE ARE YOU?' and he responded, "I'm right here, stop yelling at me".  I keep in close contact with his mom and texted her the next morning that I had lost him in the middle of the night.  She asked me, "where was he? In the bathroom?".  My response: "No, he had rolled over and just couldn't reach him".  

In the beginning, it was a feat just to get out the door on time for therapy or appointments.  Things that were once simple and thoughtless had become quite rigorous and time consuming.  There was the morning when we got out to the van to leave with 30 minutes to make it to therapy after all the careful planning...and I managed to lock my keys inside the van.  My only set of keys.  So there we were, him calling AAA and me calling therapy to let them know we wouldn't make it to the first appointment.  Not quite so funny in the moment, but we found humor in later.  We made it work and he was able to do physical therapy a little later in the day.  

A couple days ago, we had gale force winds.  No big deal, right?!  Well, we met Kirk's parents for dinner and when leaving the restaurant, I parked his wheelchair in front of my van so I could unlock the doors and open the side doors for the girls.  (I don't have a fancy key fob like most) This took me all of 3.6 seconds. When I looked back up, Kirk had vanished.  I ran to the front of the van to see if he had scooted himself to his side like he sometimes does, but he wasn't there either.  It hit me.  He must have gotten caught in a gust of wind and I panicked!  I turned around quickly and seen he was halfway across the parking lot.  He never yelled out or even raised an eyebrow.  There he was, in his wheelchair calm and collected as he waited for me to rescue him.  I'm sure it was quite the sight for his dad who was standing not too far away!  

Kirk has a long ways to go with recovery, but even through his tough days or many unknowns, we laugh and smile through the daily bloopers and countless ungraceful moments.  That is what life is all about.  We can't control the curveballs, but we can choose how we handle them.  So far, we are hitting home runs OUR way.