I’m asking for a miracle.
Mike had a decent night. But when I heard them start talking about inserting a trach tube for his breathing, well it broke me. For the first time in 10 days, I came home to rest without someone being there with him. He was asleep and resting comfortably. All I was doing was sitting there crying while he slept. I am to the point that I don’t have the energy to hide my tears from him and put on a happy face.
In 10 days I have seen my husband go so far downhill that I don’t know what to do or whom to believe. From dealing with his anxiety in his recovery from the initial surgery to a heart attack, a stroke and all sorts of other things.
I now cringe when I see a doctor walk in. I don’t understand how this could happen. Yes, I get that he was sick before he got there. That he had some underlying issues. I really do get it. But this is so far beyond that, I don’t know how to explain it.
I go from hope to despair and back again in the blink of an eye. I am exhausted, not eating, miss my dog, have yet to unpack a single thing in the house, am worried about paying the bills.
I tried to unpack the kitchen a few days ago and couldn’t. I sat in the floor and cried for two hours because I couldn’t decide where to put anything. This is not me. I am the optimist, the one who cheers everyone else on, the one who steps up to offer comfort to any who need it. That’s me, that’s what I do. For me to ask for help is not something I do easily, yet I’ve asked neighbors to take care of my dog, asked my daughter to put her life on hold to help me get through this. Ask all of you to pray and then asked you to pray some more. And I’m still asking.
At this point, we need a miracle. So I am asking for a miracle. I have to believe that we can get one for me.
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