Skip to main content

Our Life is a Country Song--No, Seriously

In the past ten months, our family has experienced the following:

1. Three Northwest Hospital ER visits.
2. Eighteen Children’s Hospital ER visits.
3. Three surgeries on an Achilles tendon.
4. One surgery lengthening an arm tendon and transferring two other tendons.
5. One lovely ride in a Medic One
6. A bone infection due to a root canal gone terribly wrong.
7. Two oral surgeries.
8. Four hospital stays
9. One Harborview ER visit
10. Our car’s transmission went out so we are down to one vehicle, meaning I get up at the crack of Didn’t-I-just-go-sleep, take hubby to work, come home and get two offspring up. I take one to high school, one to middle school. I go to work, go pick up my husband, pick up high schooler, pick up middle schooler, lather, rinse and repeat ad nauseam.
11. We lost our beautiful home....and
12. Our dog died.

Toss in an unwed pregnancy and our lives just became a country song---without the beer of course. Or the gun rack in the pickup truck. Mostly because we have neither the truck nor any guns to put on a rack. We’ve been pondering the gun thing lately---but with so much fun in our lives we’re afraid it would simply add to our, er, fun. And by fun, I mean tragedy and hospital visits. There are a few more things that have happened to us in the past ten months, but they are too painful and personal to share here. Just use your imaginations. I dare ya.

Because of our particular situation with one child, my husband and I have not spent any time together in….oh, let’s say a decade. All right, it might not be a decade but it’s pretty close. Sometimes we bump into each other in bed and when I say bump, I mean he tosses an arm or a leg over at me and I instantly go into a menopausal hot flash so fierce that it would take the paint off of a car, thus necessitating that I throw all blankets off, sweat profusely until the hot flash is over and then hopefully go back to sleep.

The sleep part of our lives hasn’t been great either. Last night I didn’t sleep. I knew I had to get up at 3:30 a.m. to drive hubby to work, so the harder I tried to fall asleep, the less sleepy I felt. I didn’t want to take something because then I’d be groggy as I drove. It was a win-win situation for my brain. It went whirring around like a dervish, darting from one bad experience to another, bouncing around like a ball in a pinball machine.

Did I pay the water bill? How come I’m never the one that can find Waldo. Ooooh, Hawaii sounds nice. Warm air, sand and…how can our cat snore so loudly in his face and not wake him up? I shouldn’t have sent that text but I’ve reached the end of my rope and there’s no knot to hang on to. Readers Knot---that’s the name of Lori’s book club. Wish I had a book---those poor children in Oklahoma. Those poor parents---my heart breaks for them. How are we going to get a new car….two cars. I can’t be in two places at once—or three for that matter, although there’s probably enough of me to make that happen were it possible. Those green peppers are going south—better use them in the morning for the girl’s breakfast. Need to vacuum. I wonder what’s on CNN…

On and on it goes. I’ve always had a lovely Attention Deficit Disorder side---which affects every part of my life, including my dreams. And my writing. Did I mention my writing? Yeah, that too. SQUIRREL!

Anyway, I'm going to try and write a country song from my list of Fun Things That We've Had Happen. Once I take a nap.


  1. You don't put guns in the gun rack. You put fishin' poles!

  2. Annalee6:51 PM

    and if you use the real flexible part at the top, it's not assault with a deadly weapon. Well, At least not in Iowa.

  3. We're up three more ER visits since this post.

    And I don't have fishing poles. Or guns.


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…



Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
(all rights reserved)