All Clear

I can't believe that as I'm writing this, we're already a couple of hours into December 29th. Lately, I've been feeling particularly exhausted. Mentally, I just can't seem to rest thinking about how the last few months have changed our lives, worrying that Wil's back is going give out every time he sneezes, and how I would completely lose it altogether if he is to be admitted one more time this year. My mental state was held together by a paper clip and every tiny hiccup in our day caused the waterworks to flow. I constantly yelled at Wil because I was petrified that whatever he was doing, besides laying down on the couch, was surely going to put him back in the hospital. I couldn't even fathom that there might be light at the end of the tunnel, and everything became a bit more bleak with each passing day. To cope I gave myself milestones to which I could look forward. 2-week post-op appointment, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and 6-week post-op appointment. The first few came and went fairly quietly. Christmas was a big one. Presents were sent out, the house was decorated, and there were meals to prepare for the company we invited over. Two of Wil's single soldiers called at the last minutes asking if they could bring a couple of single friends over for the Christmas dinner. I had enough food to feed the whole battalion of soldiers and was actually thrilled to have a little less leftover to deal with. It struck me as I was studying the faces of these young men, who were all injured downrange and somehow found themselves joining our table on Christmas day, how lucky I was to be sitting there with my husband, who was making a great recovery progress, and a beautifully thriving little daughter, who was, and forever will be, the light of our lives. Things could have gone bad, but they didn't. Life went on, new friends were made, and I needed to rid myself of the traumatic memories of this year. The day after Christmas, I could feel the weight of angst being washed down the shower drain knowing that the time to prepare for worst case scenario was over. Today (or technically yesterday) Wil had his 6-week post-op appointment. The surgeon was very pleased with his recovery and said that everything was exactly where it should be. Wil can now ease back into lifting things that are heavier than 10 lbs. Our baby is about 24. He can change her diaper, get her out of her crib, and pick her up when she demands a big bear hug. Not that he hasn't done that once or twice these past three months, but now I don't have to grab the phone in a panic to dial the surgeon while swearing at him for DOING THAT to us AGAIN.

He's okay.

We're going to be fine.

It's okay for me to sleep again.

Next post will resume happier writing about the cutest baby in the world doing something astonishingly adorable. And so for now, good night.

In Which I Tried to not Complain

I'm really tired of hearing myself bitch about the crappy weather, but not making a note about what happened over the weekend would totally be nuts. Last week our washing machine, which was located in the basement, just quit working mid rinse cycle. I discovered this little unpleasant fact nearly midnight when the temperature outside had dipped way below freezing already, so imagine my joy when I had to stick my hands in frigid water and hand wring a load of very wet clothes. When I started to feel like frost bite was coming on, I yelled at Wil to come down and join in on all the fun I was having in the basement. I called FMO first thing in the morning (FYI: FMO = Furniture Management Office, who loans us all major 220V appliances here since we weren't allowed to bring ours), and a sweetest lady apologetically informed me that they were so booked up during the holidays already and couldn't send a mechanic to our house until the 29th, which at the time was about 2 weeks away. I tried my best not to simultaneously laugh and cry before thanking her and hanging up. The greatest gifts my husband has ever given me, beside that Little Mutt, hands down, were our washer and dryer, because he knew how much I hated doing laundry and how much more I hated lugging our dirty laundry to the laundrymat. And there we were--five dirty laundry creators, two of whom have four paws a piece that tend to be covered in mutt and snow. I procrastinated the dreaded trip with the toddler and the gimpy husband long enough that we accrued 10 loads of laundry by Sunday when we experienced the first bad snow storm of the season (the storm didn't reach our area until we got to the laundrymat, isn't that convenient?). Couldn't postponed the trip any longer either since most of us were already out of clean socks and underwear. To my husband's credit, he singlehandedly tackled the laundry, while I drove around post looking for a place to change a poopy diaper, a task simple enough had the said child not been in a pair of snow boots, tights, a bodysuit, a snowsuit, a hat, and a pair of mittens. Do you know how hard it is to change a BAD poopy diaper on a tiny changing table in a very small public restroom with one hand while trying to keep all those article of clothing away from the crabby and hungry child's hands so she didn't shove them in poop in protest? If I had access to Wil's meds, I would have dumped the whole thing in my mouth right then. After we came out of the bathroom, we found that Santa was visiting the commissary. Chase got another picture taken with him with little fuss mainly because she was on the verge of passing out from exhaustion and hunger. I carried my baby out of the store on my shoulder, in heavy snow fall, like a sack of potatoes, and she was out cold even before I got through the drive-thru window in an attempt to feed her something other than snow. Since she was sleeping so peacefully, Wil told me to wait with Chase in the car with the heater running while he finished up the laundry. In just under an hour that I was sitting there quietly singing karaoke and looking up our moon roof, nearly 3 inches of snow quickly turned most things that were already white from the last snow even whiter and fluffier. I get it--snow is pretty to look at--but if and only if you are warm and inside. Driving back home was beyond nerve-wrecking. Having been born and raised just above the equator, I, most of all, had no business or the skill necessary to drive in red road condition. The snow was coming down so fast that the autobahn looked like it wasn't plowed at all. I ended up driving at about 25 mph the whole way home because at any higher speed our SUV would fishtail wildly. It didn't matter that we had 4-wheel drive. I could have been riding in a horse drawn buggy, and we would have spun out just the same if I was going any faster. It was a very long way home to say the least, but what ended up to be 11 loads of laundry was done! Today brought good news from the nice lady at FMO, who took pity on me after hearing about our adventurous laundry trip over the weekend, and magically found us a mechanic that could come to our house tomorrow! Maybe a working washer is our Christmas miracle this year.

I'm going to leave you with a couple of videos that probably will not be interesting to anyone besides our immediate family members, but, of course, you are more than welcome to watch these of our cute kid. Seriously, I don't think anyone can make them more precious than us. Yes, my kid is cuter than yours, and I'm not even sorry I said that. Ok, maybe very little.

Will Work for Gummies from UMA STEINHAUER on Vimeo.

And We Didn't Forget the Rest of You! from UMA STEINHAUER on Vimeo.

Pictures for Kun Yai

It's Time for Bullet Blogging

-For the first time since Wil's return from a deployment a few years ago, and my second attempt ever, I'm Christmas decorating the house. This involves hand making fresh evergreen garlands and wreaths and lots of sewing. It is as much rewarding as it is painfully slow. We just got our tree last night and might be spending today decorating it.
-Wil continues to progress in his recovery. He still needs at least 15 pills a day to get by, but he's mostly independent around the house. Still can't bend at the waist, and he will not be able to for the next 3-4 months or so, but Chase is well-trained now in picking things up for him off of the floor.

Miss Chase needs her own section:
-She is the funniest little person on earth. She says and does things that constantly crack me up and is quite a little imitator. We have to seriously watch our language around her after we overheard her saying something that sounded dangerously similar to "oh, sh*t!" while trying to figure out a piece of her toy.
-Her clean vocabulary library is expanding at an alarming rate as well and she understands and complies with most of my requests and suggestions. Her favorite word right now: money. Caught her today with a $20-bill in her hot little hand, and her father had no idea how she snatched that out of his stash. Uh oh.
-My kid loves to booty dance, especially when she's simultaneously playing her piano and keyboard while singing at the top of her lungs. Double uh oh.
-Still sleeping 12-13 hours a night, eating like no one has ever fed her before, still has a giant belly to show for it even though she is thinning out everywhere else. It boggles the mind that we'll have a two-year-old on our hands in less than 5 months.
-If you ask her "Baby, what is your name?," you will get "Che," as an answer. I can never get a good video of her anymore because, as soon as she hears the beeping noise that signals that the power is on, she runs over and demands that I turn the screen around so she can see "Che, babiee," which is always accompanied by a pointing hand gesture to her chest just to make sure that Momma doesn't confuse her with other "Che Babiee."
-I think she has 7 teeth now and is working on a molar or two? I'm not sticking my fingers in there anymore--she bites.
-Still adores her brothers and loves to cuddle with them, although has a very soft spot in her heart for...cats. I don't even know what to do with that one. We have a few friendly kitties that roam the neighborhood that she gets to pet occasionally, and yesterday Wil caved and bought her a stuffed animal--a furry big Cat, whom Papa named Charlie and Chase called "Char". Both Brutus and Paddy have already tried to kill Char a couple of times today, which resulted him needing a quick bath to get rid of the slimy slobber. Keeping Char in one piece will be challenging.
-My lovely little child is going through her naked phase. She refuses to keep her pants on when we're home and is constantly walking around the house with her pants around her ankles. She asks to be "nekkid" when she's on a changing table, and as soon as the clothes come off before bath time, she dives into the boys' bed in her naked glory. I'm pretty certain it's the highlight of her day.
-She's convinced that every time I'm in front of the computer, I'm looking at pictures/videos of babies. In her defense, many of our friends are having kids left and right and I do spend a lot of time looking at pictures/videos of them. She always demand that I let her sit on my lap and show her some "babieeee."

Wil's turn:
-Uma has gotten over a pretty bad cold/flu thing that made her very miserable and those around her did not enjoy it either. She has been crazy about this whole decorating thing, but to her credit her wreath looks awesome and the felt food that she has sewn is pretty incredible. She is crazy with so many more projects that she wants to get done before Christmas I really cant wait to see them.
- I am procrastinating on finishing my Eng. class and really should get around to it. My problem is that I only get a few min. of mindful clarity between taking my meds. My professor has been very understanding. As soon as I start to read anything I fall asleep. With Uma under the weather and not feeling up to cooking I have had my choice of what to eat lately. Now since I can not be so mobile due to my surgery this is not a good thing. I must say the whole thing about putting on weight due to the holidays, yeah that's my excuse.

One for the Book

Wil was discharged from the hospital on Sunday afternoon. I've been really busy since, sorry for the late update. I'll write more once things calm down here, hopefully by Wednesday. Chase and I are still making hospital run daily to take care of some paperwork issues, picking up medicines, and attending our own appointments. Nothing bad but I'll share more later. Wil is as comfortable as he can hope to be. He's taken to sleeping on the couch because it's much easier to try to log roll from that position and grab a walker. He can walk around the house without an aid of a walker, but I insist that he uses it anyway when I'm not around because his legs are still very weak and those pesky spasms can literally knock him to the ground. He obviously can't bend at the knees or back, and I'm learning to put things up higher so he can reach them. Chase and I were running all over town taking care of stuff and picking up the boys from the kennel yesterday and didn't get home until nearly dinner time. Wil complained that he was dizzy and light-headed and told me that all he had eaten were some animal crackers and cereal bars because those were sitting on the top shelf that he could reach. It was kind of hilarious to watch him directing Chase to pick deli meat out from the bottom drawer in our fridge. With all the practice coming our way, I'm sure we'll get a hang of things very soon.

Before I wrap this up, I would like to especially thank our dear friends who came out to visit Wil at the hospital. Most of Wil's friends were out of town for the week because of a work conference (although they came to see him as soon as they could), which made the hospital silence even more defining. If we were closer to our family, his room would have been the one getting scolded by the nurses for being loud. There would have been parents, grandmas, aunts, uncles, fussing over him, and cousins running around playing tag in the hallway 24-7. But this is our reality of being station overseas. It was a really hard week for him and I can't tell you enough how familiar friendly faces lifted his spirit. One particular family, the Carrolls, has always been there for all of us through the best and the worst of times. Jordan, Buck, and Brady, you are a Godsend! We love you so very much and are so grateful for our friendship. Can't wait until our playdate!

I can no longer post pictures here for some reason, so I guess only slide shows will do for now. When/if things ever calm down, I'll look into fixing it, but enjoy these for now, Grandparents!

Irrational Anger

I'm a pretty emotional person, and my husband will probably tell you that it's some kind of an understatement of the year. I haven't gotten it in me the ability to be upset on the inside while putting up a happy front. I cried in the hospital's cafeteria yesterday because, after a total meltdown during lunch time, Chase looked at me with tears streaming down her face and said "outsyyde (outside), pay (play), syde (slide)?" It breaks my heart that life as she knows it is so turned upside down right now and I can't exactly fix it. I hurts me that she couldn't jump, run, spin, and let out a squeal whenever her little heart desires because we're in the hospital all the time. And it absolutely kills me to know that I couldn't just drop everything, scoop her up in my arms and run her to the nearest playground when that was the only way to fix whatever that's broken in her little world. I know this is not going to last forever, but right now I'm not a very good wife and I'm not a very good mother either. I want to be there 100% for two of my most important people in the world but it's just physically impossible. Chase is not a big fan of our CDC, and I'm afraid that I just reinforce the feeling by rarely ever leaving her there. But 4 hours yesterday were much needed, and so were the other 7 today. She got to be a normal toddler, who got to "pay outsyyde" and shared blocks with her new friends. I got to go to the hospital alone, sit quietly at the edge of my best friend's bed, and rest my head on his chest. We took a quick nap together and I got to really hug him without having to worry about Chase yanking some kind of wire out of something she shouldn't. We watched a movie together, stole each other's lunches, and just hung out. It was incredibly therapeutic, and for the first time this week I didn't want to just curl up at the foot of Chase's crib and go to sleep with her at 7 p.m. The fog in my mind is very slowly lifting, and I'm realizing that I've been carrying around a lot of angst with me. As much as I'm looking forward to Wil's discharge, I'm petrified of home pain management, as it felt like we had just gone to hell and back on that boat. I feel useless and not quite enough all at the same time most days. I'm angry at the universe that we're here again less than two years after the first go round. I know we're not the only people in the world dealing with "big stuff," but it's hard to gain perspective when we're sitting in the middle of it all.

On the day of Wil's surgery, Chase and I were pretty much the only two people left in the surgical waiting room after 2 p.m. Just a few doors down was the waiting area for ICU. There were a few more people in there, and I noticed this older lady, who showered us with a sweet kind smile when she saw the paper airplane experiment Chase and I were conducting in the hallway to kill time. I just assumed that she was a family member of a retiree, until she was on her way out around 4 p.m. and stopped to chat with us. I gathered that she belonged to a local congregation and just spent her whole day sitting in the ICU waiting room and praying for the patients and their families. She asked if she could pray for our little family when she found out that Wil had already been in surgery for nearly 9 hours. She softly took my hand and Chase's and it took all that I had to swallow a hard lump in my throat and not bawl. I was so overwhelmed with anxiety yet deeply touched by the kindness of stranger, whom in that small moment did more for me than she could ever imagine. I felt peace and love and knew in my heart that everything was going to be alright. We exchanged a warm goodbye and literally fifteen minutes later Wil's surgeon came out of the OR with 5 x-rays in his hand declaring the surgery a success. I'm trying very hard to hold on to that feeling the ICU waiting room Angel gave me and keep my mind clear of negative thoughts and feelings. It's a daily, and sometimes hourly, struggle, but I'm trying.

Wil continues to slowly improve. The drainage from the surgery sites came off today and it makes laying down a taddddd bit more comfortable. The swelling in his face is quickly going down and he can see better out of his right eye. He's off the morphine drip but is still heavily depended on the intravenous one that he can get every 6 minutes with a push of a button especially after a walk. We got an all clear to walk down the hall to visit our friend Becky and baby Eli in the next ward. He did well but was most definitely ready to head back and push the morphine button HARD. The biggest challenge is getting back into bed, and today he still needs 2 nurses to help him lay back down after most bathroom breaks. He's pretty nauseated and getting Sofran to combat that so he can eat a little more. And we know no one gets a good night sleep in a hospital, so he's getting something to help with that, too. His surgeon is very pleased with his progress but will let physical therapy and Wil dictate when it's time to part with that adjustable bed.

P.S. I'm talking to you, people we don't know but keep coming back to read about our life (Iowa, Australia, etc., I'm looking at you). My husband is in the hospital and really hurt. Say something nice to him like you wish him a speedy recovery. It's a small price to pay for an admission to our freak show. I did title the post "Irrational Anger," and I'm taking it out on innocent internet bystanders.

This, Too, Shall Pass

I really honestly hate the phrase because it's only stating the obvious, but at this point I'll chant anything to myself to keep it going. Wil was wheeled into the OR yesterday soon after 7 a.m. At noon his surgeon came out and said that the scar tissues from the previous surgery were tremendous and he'd spent the last 4+ hour just trying to free up the nerves that were pressed down by the scar tissues. So it appeared that not only his new herniation was giving him a hard time and causing pain, those scar tissues from last year's surgery were also adding to the discomfort. He told me that he needed 2 more hours for the mechanical part of the surgery, although it wasn't until 4:30 p.m. when I actually saw him stepping out of the OR looking completely drained. There were some hardware issues they had to deal with, which added more time to an already complicated procedure, but all and all the surgery was declared a success as far as his being to accomplish the goals they had set out. We notified the new anesthetist ahead of time of Wil's violent reaction to coming out of anesthesia last year, and they were able to prevent the puke fest repeat. Chase and I left the hospital around 7 p.m. when Wil was moved into a shared room and already getting knocked out by a cocktail of very good drugs. I didn't really realized that we were running on adrenaline fume until this morning after we got to the hospital. Another long day there just seemed impossible, and even the usually chipper Chase was not having any of it. I knew to expect some swelling to Wil's face, because he called to warn me about it practically all night. I kind of took most of his crazy phone calls as drug-induced, and therefore not to be taken seriously, so actually seeing it was rather jarring. Apparently, he had to wear some kind of goggles during the surgery even though he was laying face down the whole time, and the pressure + drugs + unknown allergy made his face look a touch like an elephant man's mug. He also developed a few new allergies to one of the pain medications and the surgical tape adhesive, so he was all itchy and covered in small clear blisters wherever the wire and tape met on his body, which turned out to actually be quite a few spots. The nurses in Landstuhl's 8D are doing a marvelous job staying on top of his pain control and Wil's as comfortable has he can expect to be under this particular circumstance. I'm so tired I'm nodding off typing this, so I'm going to wrap it up here. The bottom line is he's doing well. The boys are at the kennel, and Chase is going to spend 4 hours tomorrow afternoon at the CDC while Wil and I tackle an important physical therapy session. We are exhausted but hopeful. Will update again as soon as I can.