When it takes me too long in between posts, it is not for a lack of words, rather I have too many.
My brain is as busy as a big city highway, thoughts rushing about, crashing into each other. Therapy has stirred up nightmares and flashbacks at an alarming rate. That, along with otherwise not sleeping has increased migraine frequency again.
My daughter is okay. I hate that she has scoliosis and that my genes gave it to her. It is worse than I thought it was, her s curve and rotation already raising her one shoulder and hip out of level, twisting her ribs so one side of her back appears rounder than the other. But only if you look closely and know what to look for. Dr recommended she start doing yoga to stretch and strengthen her core to combat the sore muscles she already has. Then we go back in a few months for new xrays, and hope the curve has not progressed much. Thats all we can do.
I managed the day of her checkup though I had several flashbacks. It could have been better, could have been worse. We went in through the garage, not the front door where AF used to drop me off. We stopped at the cafe for slow paced breakfast. Upstairs was heavily remodeled since I had last been there. That was good. I did feel triggered looking down the hallway where I spent countless painful hours of physical therapy with no gain. I did feel triggered in the large waiting room, recalling times waiting there by myself, times when both parents came and were so busy fighting I had wished I was alone. I knew the view out that huge window well, as it took me out of the waiting room to watch people walking down below.
It was actually comforting to meet Dr junior. I had forgotten how much I liked and trusted his dad as a child. Junior has the same amazing warmth and accent. The look on his face was entirely priceless when he asked who performed my surgery as a child, and I said it was dear old dad. I decided not to tell him it didn’t go so well, as I don’t fault the surgeon for that.
I did feel sick to see my girl’s body distorted by this horrible disease. No one really knows a cause yet. 30 years later and we can’t prevent it from permanently deforming us, slowly twisting and winding us up as we grow.
So that would have been enough for my nerves. But no, that’s never how it works. My FIL was also at that hospital that day, having surgery. So we walked through the maze of buildings to visit with MIL and deliver the cards my kids had made. I was losing touch the longer I walked. I kept seeing my girl, who looks so much like me, and lost my bearings, struggled to stay grounded more and more.
We sat with MIL far too long. I asked hubby a few times if we could leave. We had been there several hours now, approaching lunch time, and girly was stressed and hungry. The surgical waiting room was not a good place for her.
One woman was describing how her husband was missing his ears and chunks of his cheeks due to skin cancer. I wanted to comfort her but I had nothing in me to offer her. I wanted to run away.
Finally we left and started the long walk back to the garage. But this time the hallways looked different. Swirly. I could barely read the directions on the signs and kept getting lost. I easily lead us all there but was now confused. Hubby reached out and grabbed my shoulders. I screamed “Don’t touch me!” And looked for an escape. A few nurses and doctors asked if I needed help. I wasn’t sure…I kept looking around, waiting for something to make sense, waiting for hubby to take the lead, but he never did. My flashback had overtaken me. I was disoriented and scared. My only thought was avoid evryone and get to the car as quickly as possible. But I didn’t know how. I was trapped in one of my nightmares, hallways kept getting longer, people were no longer speaking english, I was struggling to walk, holding onto walls for balance, struggling to breathe but doing it anyway.
I just kept walking. Hubby and girly followed me. At hallway intersections we looked sad and confused and nurses pointed the way. Finally we could see our garage. I knew I could make it now, the fear lessened and switched to exhaustion. The final steps to the car took all my energy. Made it. Sat down. Breathing can resume.
I don’t recall leaving the garage or entering the highway. At some point I ‘woke up’ and remembered the suggestion to go somewhere fun. We needed lunch so I asked girly if she wanted to go to the mall. Sure!
We ate lunch and headed for her favorite store to search for a black dress for choir. I was still exhausted, struggling to stay grounded, but this seemed important. As we entered the store, hubby disappeared. He often does this, wanders off to look at something. So I waited. He was taking forever, so I checked my phone…dead. crap. Looked around and still did not see him so we kept shopping, but were forced to stay in that one store. She tried on a few things, no luck on a dress. Finally I spotted hubby sitting by the fountain outside the store. What? How long has he been there? I tell him I had no idea where he went. I tell him I don’t know if we should buy anything. He gets all defensive saying he thought we were better off without him and he didn’t know where we went and hows he supposed to know…
I was too tired for that. When I have flashbacks I have trouble making decisions, using math, deciding worth. I wanted his help but obviously was not going to get it. I told girly we would keep those things she liked in mind for another day but we should probably get going. She was fine with that.
When we got home I thought I could rest and recover. Hubby had the same idea. He fell asleep and left me to make dinner, monitor homework, manage bedtime.
The next day he said he thought everything went perfectly. I snorted a bit, surprised by our different impressions of the day. He asked what I thought could have been better and got angry when I made suggestions, because now I was attacking him and pointing out everything he did wrong. I wasn’t even going to bring it up, he asked. I wasn’t going to bring it up because it doesn’t help. I can’t rely on him, in those moments, I am forever alone.