We were out eating dinner when my mom called…twice. Once on my phone, then once on my husband’s. She never does that, unless it’s important. Someone fell, from somewhere high, is all I can gather from my husband’s phone call with her. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out who would fit this description as I quietly tried to decode their phone conversation. It was my grandfather. My grandfather who is completely healthy and happily pushing over 80! The guy who could probably still beat me in an arm wrestling contest! He had a fractured L1 and L2, broken/fractured pelvis, and 6 broken ribs. He would need surgery to fix the hip/pelvis and recovery would be many, many months.
As I sit here rereading my daily notecards, I’m being reminded of what life was like two years ago. The fears, concerns, and worry I was experiencing. Not knowing just how this journey was going to affect me. Would I survive the surgery? Probably, even though that is always a fear going into any major surgery. Would it be cancer? What kind of battle lay ahead if it was? Was I strong enough to fight it? Would I survive it? Those were all unknowns. Unknowns I had to sit with for many months. If it wasn’t cancer, how would I heal? How would life change afterwards? Even though this was the best scenario, there were still so many unknowns. I was petrified. I was scared to my very core.
The rug of life was ripped out from underneath me again the other day. Do you know that feeling? The feeling where you’re carrying on about your daily life and BOOM!! Next thing you know, your’re flat on your back with the world spinning around you. You desperately try to stand up, to hold onto something, in hopes of stopping the spinning. Well, that’s what happened today when I was told the doctor wants me back into the office to discuss my blood work. It’s amazing that after it happens once, that it takes less and less each time for it to happen again when you hear anything but good news. You would think you would become desensitized. Nope.