Marking the last day of normal~

Today marks one year since the last day of normal. One year ago today, we were both busy working and life actually seemed near perfect. We went to bed concerned about the mysterious bruising and that was the last time we slept in our bed in our old life. I did have an ominous feeling that week. But, I certainly couldn't begin to imagine how life would unfold this next year.

It feels like yesterday, and it feels so long ago.

In those first days, I'd imagined that by one year, we'd be back to normal. Of course in between imagining we'd be back to normal, there were moments of terror that things would never be the same.
And putting one foot in front of the other, we have handled more than we ever imagined we could handle. That first week in the hospital, I couldn't imagine spending a whole month in the hospital. I couldn't imagine putting our life on hold for a whole month. And now, it's a year. By my calculations, Dom has spent nearly exactly half a year living in the hospital. I could never have wrapped my mind around that the first week. But, time has a way of preparing us. And there's really no manual, no friendly word of advice that is better at preparing us than time.

The very first nurse we had was pregnant when she met this completely shattered couple. I just ran into her in the hall for the first time since then. (If you remember waaaaaay back almost a year ago, I shared how they moved us into a new room literally in the middle of the night, and Dominic had his first ride in a wheel chair that may have felt a little more like teenagers pushing each other in grocery carts down dark alleys than a grievously ill patient in a wheel chair. We moved to another ward and never saw that nurse again.) I asked the nurse about her new baby, which is now already 8 months old!!! How can that be? This little life that wasn't even in the world when we started is now probably crawling. 

And the little one that I was helping out with is a whole year older. The little baby I just adore has turned into a little girl, who loves to go to preschool and thankfully, has not forgotten her auntie.

Since we first entered this hospital, they have opened a cafeteria. It opened 3 days after we were discharged from the transplant. Is that a silver lining to returning to the hospital unexpectedly? I get to check out the new cafeteria? It's a pretty thin silver lining, but I'll take it. I do feel weird eating from the salad bar, when I have avoided public food nearly a year now. I'd think a hospital would be the last place I'd want to dip into the trough. But salad. I need green in this land of beige.

Reflecting on the first months here, I am astonished at how timid I was. I realized there was a Starbucks just one block away, but I couldn't leave Dom's side long enough to find it. I think I also felt like it would be frivolous given our circumstances. But there it was. Right around the corner, and I never visited. We found a gluten free bakery that was just two blocks from our temporary home, and about 1.3 miles from the hospital. I guess it's well enough that we didn't know it was there until he was able to eat outside food. I walked there last weekend from the hospital and bought some treats. I reflected as I walked that day that the first week I had been lost and driven down that very road, and it felt so foreign. And now, I was walking there, feeling at home.

If the cafeteria is a thin silver lining, the thick silver lining is the way we've been held throughout this year.

There are people we can never repay. There are gifts in suffering.

There are people who have met us through all the twists and turns. There are people who were only quiet until we needed them and then they were johnny on the spot. Through the wonder of technology, I've met so many amazing people. I got to bond with my sister in law, though gosh I wish it could have been another way. I've reconnected with long lost friends who have brought so much to me. We've made new friends on this journey and Dom's been so fortunate to connect with mentors who have walked this path before him.

Dominic and I have also had long interesting discussions about spirituality. Sometimes, those discussions don't happen when life is "normal." Being the person I am, I thrive on deep discussions, and delving into the deep.

So, today marks the new normal. The new normal is, Dominic and I have a new appreciation for life. We have a new appreciation for the human body. We are able to weather the storms with a little less angst and a little more courage. The new normal means I'm going to be real open about how things are, and it is out of my control how other people receive me. The new normal means I have it in me to step up and gitter done. I'd rather be taken care of and pampered and only break a sweat in a hot yoga class, but now I see, I can start an engine on a burly weed mower with a pull cord, (which is no easy thing) and push that beast up and down hills. I will admit, my new normal does not include driving the tractor. At least not yet. And that is why the new normal also includes receiving with so much thankfulness so much help that we are both so humbled by. We never ever could have done this on our own. The new normal is remembering with greater clarity we are never alone.