She Is Okay

People ask all the time.  It’s nice of them to ask, it shows they care, it shows they don’t forget.  They want to know, they ask “How’s Marty doing?”  My standard response, “Oh, she’s doing okay.”

She’s actually doing at least okay, she’s probably doing better than okay but I don’t want to jinx it.  I’m not superstitious or anything unless it comes to walking under a ladder and it’s just stupid to walk under a ladder.  

It’s also stupid to say things are going great when by saying it you might tempt the fates too much and cause “things” to go to shit.  Why take that chance?

At the risk of tempting fate and validating my more logical side, Marty is doing….. good.  See, even if I’m trying to be positively effusive I constrain myself to good, not great, not excellent….good.

We watched the Super Bowl in our home this year, as opposed to watching it on the 19 inch television at Providence Hospital last year.  While the company of nurses, aids and therapists is not a bad thing, I prefer to watch the big game from the comfort of my recliner with my bride by my side.  That’s where we were this year, we are a year clear of hospital confinement and that rates a good.

That doesn’t mean there haven’t been flashes of worry, episodes of some type of illness during the last year or last few weeks.  Our good is probably not someone else’s good and it would be a minor miracle if we ever got to, “Wow, she is doing fantastic.”

In fact, I wonder if fantastic fits us anymore.  I wonder what it would take for me to not worry about Marty.  I have thought about this from time to time and I don’t know how to get there from where I stand today.  Even with the good months solidly behind us and nothing too frightening ahead of us I still walk around holding my breath listening for the other shoe to drop.  

I’m not sure if that makes me a malcontent or a realist, I’m not sure it matters, it just is.

We still check Marty’s vitals multiple times every day and I still get a rush of adrenalin when I walk back and see that her blood pressure is above or below what I consider her normal.  If her blood sugar is high for the morning I wonder about urinary tract stuff, if her oxygen level is low….well that requires a trip somewhere.

Marty hasn’t had one of those really bad infections that cause a systemic body reaction in several months.  You would think we would be doing the happy dance and rejoicing.  But I can’t anymore than I would vicariously cross a black cat’s path without spitting.  I won’t tempt the fates and it seems to fit me better if I just keep watching and listening for the bang of the shoe on the floor.

I like not waking up in the morning with a sense of dread.  I like not walking back to Marty’s room worrying about what her blood pressure reading will be or feeling like the day will evolve into some form of tense chaos filled with medical decisions.  And that’s where we have been for several months now.  We’re okay.

I like it and I don’t want to jinx it by saying Marty is doing better than okay.   Marty is okay and the real truth, in our life, okay is really way better than just your standard, okay.  I mean really, you live through two strokes and are still alive and functioning, you are better than the standard okay.  Okay? 

If we stay okay until the next Super Bowl I will be a happy camper and Marty will have marched through another year without any real medical issues.  

That’s okay.   Oh hell, let’s just go with dandy.

Lookin' for Wood

I’m not a superstitious guy.  But, just to hedge my bets; I never walk under a ladder, which seems pretty prudent regardless of superstition.  I also will occasionally spit when a black cat crosses my path and I immediately seek some wood to knock on when talking about good things happening in my life.

With that being said you will understand why I’m knocking because I want to report that in the grand scheme of things Marty has really been “healthy” lately; hear the knocking on wood? 

She has not been in the hospital for almost 18 months.  We haven’t seen the inside of an emergency room in almost a year and we only went to see Great and Wise a couple of weeks ago so I could brag in person about beating him in scrabble.  Rap, rap, rap on real wood.

Over the last six years we have seen more of doctor’s offices and various hospitals than many see in a life time.  There are a lot of people in this world who have never been hospitalized.  For us, the nurses on 3^rd floor south at Providence Hospital knew Marty by name.  For a while we had personal relationships with most of the ER doctors at our favorite emergency room and the nurses would come in and ask about our kids.  I liked them all but would have preferred to have met and known them from the Cryin’ Shame bar down the street.

Marty has survived so much.  She has lived through so many things so many times it’s a bit mind numbing.  From seizures to pneumonia to urinary tract infections to broken limbs, she has done it all, multiple times.  At one point in time, at least in my mind, I just knew she would ultimately lose her battle for life to some rare infection with an obscure Latin name.

As days have moved to weeks, months and years things have gradually changed, we have learned, we have grown, we have gotten better at dealing with illness and the illnesses have become more sporadic. We have not conquered the most difficult part of stroke recovery, chronic and constant illness,  but we have fought it to a draw. 

The disability part of the strokes is hard but it’s never been the hardest part, the wheelchair has never been the most frightening part of the strokes.  The frailty, the constant illnesses and need to be on constant guard for a new sickness has been the most difficult, stressful part of our new normal.  It has been the only prayer I have prayed, to give us some relief from the constant infections, the repeated trips to the hospital.  I’ve not prayed for a cure, I’ve not petitioned for Marty to walk or talk, I have simply prayed for Marty to feel better longer.

For the last months instead of sitting in Great and Wise’s waiting room, instead of taking antibiotics, instead of getting Marty stuck in the arm to get blood we have been enjoying the peace and comfort of being infection free.  I’m not watching her blood pressure or her oxygen levels like an old maid, I’m not trying to shoe horn a doctor’s appointment into our day, I’m not waking up in the morning with a surge of adrenalin wondering what bug has crept into Marty’s bloodstream threatening her life.

Marty clearly feels better.  Antibiotics have saved her life, but she simply doesn’t feel as good, as sharp when taking the medicine.  The length of time between bouts of upper respiratory infections or pneumonia have allowed her lungs to heal, to get stronger, to better support her in every way.  The very simple blessing of being well feels good and has a cumulative effect on her demeanor and her quality of life.

It is such a relief to not have to constantly be watching Marty for the next sign, it is freeing to be able to leave the house and not worry about what is happening at home.   It feels great to not sweat out a medical report.  I know Marty feels a sense of relief that I am not constantly watching her every breath, cough or wobble.  It is so much better to go see Great and Wise and not worry about test results but to talk about the scrabble words he uses that I don’t recognize, he’s a good scrabble player.

There are times in our lives where we want to celebrate but we are afraid because the celebration might somehow jinx the cause of the celebration.  That kind of thinking tends to limit celebrating the bright spots in a sometimes dark life.  Not being the superstitious kind of guy I’m thinking I’m going to do the happy dance to celebrate the past few weeks, while knocking on some real wood just to be safe.