Emerging from the fog that has been our strange life for the past week.
We’ve been in this strange suspended state since Wednesday at 1:45pm mountain time and I haven’t been able to find my words. My brain feels swollen and tender, and I imagine if I could somehow take it out and set it in my lap and touch it I’d see those colorful rainbow ripples, like when I used to press on the face of my Pac-man watch as a kid.
In a hospital waiting room time stretches like taffy, the kind nobody wants to eat. I was here for a week when the calendar mocked me that it had only been one day. I can’t talk properly. I reach up to pluck a word from the pantry where it’s always been and I grab the wrong, rusted can every time. I stare stupidly at it in my palm and I blink and blink and blink. I can’t write here, I can’t write in private, I can’t even hear the stories in my head. It’s silent in there except for the tick of fluorescent lights, the occasional squeak of a rubber shoe on an impossibly clean floor, the general whir and hum of grief and fear and worry.
When I’m not looking for my words I’m busy tricking the children, trying to make them believe that we are on vacation, that we had to change our destination part way through but that we are still having a camping adventure. They seem okay. They didn’t seem to think it weird when another family member suddenly arrived on an airplane. In a twist of fate we have landed in a familiar spot, a place where we know some good people and because of them my kids haven’t had to see any horror, instead they’ve fed fish and ducks and wandered a children’s museum. They’ve splashed and climbed and they haven’t set foot in any hospitals save for a few uneventful minutes on Saturday. Or was it Friday? Or was it crayon or towel or nail? I’m not used to having to think so hard about words.
The strangest part is I’m starting to believe the façade myself. The first few days of this shipwreck I couldn’t even think beyond the waiting room, but last night we went to the dirt track and I closed my eyes against the fuel and dust and neon and I clutched my beer in a can and I hid in my daughter’s hair and I thought when in Rome when in Rome when in Rome and I felt a smile that started deep in my belly and spread. The night before that I gave in to Rock Band and I belted out those Beastie Boys and I told them whatcha watcha watcha-I wanted while my daughters played back-up like pros. We’ve even had a birthday party. I noticed the mountains for the first time yesterday. I’m sleeping more. There was that one really weak moment where I splintered but it passed. It feels okay right now.
Granted, I’m not the one hardest hit in all of this. I’m not the one who can’t bear to leave his side, the one who never forgets, not even in the sleep that never comes.
It feels funny to make this all about me when it’s not, but I don’t know how else to do it. You know how I feel about this stuff — I can only tell my stories, not those of my loved ones. I won’t put them in that position. Let me just say that yes, I am suffering, but some of the people I love most are suffering worse. There are stories happening all around me but they are not mine to tell.
Can I just say this? Oh, how I’ve been aching for this woman, my God, I watch her and I’m selfish, I don’t want to ever be her, and I cling to my own husband’s arm as if I can somehow hold him back from ever being the one in that bed. It’s one of four or five times in our seventeen years together that I’ve thought This, This is what it is, life and marriage and the true bloody grit. I clutch his hand til my knuckles show through my skin and steal another glance, I channel her for a split second before slipping back out of her body with a shudder and a vow to never again speak of what I saw in there.
But today, five days in, there is finally good news, the first good news, such good news. I believe all of this praying has worked. We believe he’s going to be okay. We didn’t know yesterday but today we do. We know.
Things are looking up, so up, and that’s why I’m finally here, pecking tentatively, clearing my brain’s throat, standing for the first time as if after a long flu, dizzy, but a hundred times better than I was.
anymommy says:
I am so very, very glad. You are endlessly talented at capturing life, even in its most brutal moments. I wish you rest, peace and much, much more good news.
August 9th, 2009 at 6:46 pm
Lisa B. says:
This is my first day to find your blog and I have yet to really get to know you…but that can wait. Tonight, I pray for you, your family, and the woman you do not want to trade places with. Thank God for the good news. Hang in there and I am sorry that you are in pain. I send you peace, hope, healing, and God’s mercy.
God’s Peace, Lisa
August 9th, 2009 at 6:47 pm
Carolynn @ Willow Tree says:
On my knees tonight, not just that your family’s may have reprieve, but to join with you in storming Heaven for Hope, for Miracles, for Rest.
Blessings,
Carolynn
August 9th, 2009 at 6:49 pm
Jill says:
Oh, I hope they are right about the good news. I’m sorry you and your family are going through this and I hope you find some sunshine and rainbows soon!
August 9th, 2009 at 6:50 pm
quin browne says:
prayer works.
i wish you and yours well, maggie… be good to yourself, too… take that time, rock out and kiss your husband one more time because you can.
August 9th, 2009 at 6:50 pm
flutter says:
thinking of you and yours, babe.
August 9th, 2009 at 6:53 pm
Gypsy says:
I’m glad things are looking brighter.
August 9th, 2009 at 6:56 pm
MK says:
Even in pain, your words are perfect. Happy to hear good news! P.S. I loooove Red Beer
August 9th, 2009 at 6:58 pm
cindy w says:
I’ve been praying for you & your family. So glad you got some good news. Take care of yourself. xoxo
August 9th, 2009 at 6:59 pm
diana says:
Oh I am so happy that things seem to be taking a positive turn. You and your family and friends (?) have been in my thoughts.
August 9th, 2009 at 6:59 pm
Christina says:
I’ve been silently following things via twitter and I am thrilled to read that events have turned in a positive direction. May the continue quickly on the path to strong health.
This line:
“I reach up to pluck a word from the pantry where it’s always been and I grab the wrong, rusted can every time.”
is why I come back to read your writing – you describe things in a way I really have not seen and which connects with me. Brilliance.
Hugs
August 9th, 2009 at 7:01 pm
Lee of MWOB says:
Okay. That first paragraph nearly killed me. Rusty cans….wow. That’s how I feel all the time.
I’ve been thinking of you….so thrilled things are looking up….
xoxoxo
August 9th, 2009 at 7:04 pm
Lee of MWOB says:
Okay. That first paragraph nearly killed me. Rusty cans….wow. That’s how I feel all the time.
I’ve been thinking of you….so thrilled things are looking up….
xoxoxo
August 9th, 2009 at 7:04 pm
Ann says:
mmmmmphrgggggrshhhhhhnnnnnggguuhhhARUMPH!
(that was a huge swaying hug that I didn’t want to be the first to let go of)
August 9th, 2009 at 7:05 pm
Magpie says:
Be well, you. And I’m glad that it sounds as though there’s good news.
August 9th, 2009 at 7:05 pm
amber says:
I’m glad there is good news. I hope, no pray, tomorrow there is even better news.
August 9th, 2009 at 7:15 pm
racheld says:
Faraway thoughts and prayers, Baby Girl.
August 9th, 2009 at 7:18 pm
Lynn @ Walking With Scissors says:
I’m so glad to hear this bit of good news. And, because words always fail me when they’re the most important, here’s another (((hug))).
August 9th, 2009 at 7:21 pm
Francesca says:
I don’t know you…I read your blog….read your tweats…In my head I think I know you…I know you are wonderfully talented and capture me with your words. And I know that I will continue to pray for you and your family and think nothing but good thoughts.
August 9th, 2009 at 7:25 pm
Kay says:
I’m glad there is good news…
Just try, through all that’s going on, to take care of you, okay? Nothing selfish, just basic.
Still praying.
August 9th, 2009 at 7:40 pm
Kat says:
So glad to hear this, Maggie.
August 9th, 2009 at 7:46 pm
Sprite's Keeper says:
And this makes my night end better. (Yes, you have a way of doing that, you know.)
August 9th, 2009 at 7:50 pm
Aunt Becky says:
Good news. Glad to hear it. Holding you all close. Sending lots of love and hugs your way….
August 9th, 2009 at 8:16 pm
Dijea says:
I’m so glad that you’ve gotten good news. I’m also glad to hear that you are doing the one thing you can…finding and living in the moment. Sometimes that’s all you can do.
Thinking about you & yours.
August 9th, 2009 at 8:51 pm
Kate Coveny Hood says:
I hope the good news keeps coming. Sounds like it’s been pretty awful. And remember that *everything* is about you here. So it’s allowed – without any hesitation.
August 9th, 2009 at 9:00 pm
Sunny says:
Ever sending thoughts and prayers.
August 9th, 2009 at 9:02 pm
beaux says:
I am so sorry to hear of your distress. My prayers to your friends and family and all involved.
August 9th, 2009 at 9:35 pm
Joy says:
Thinking of you…
August 9th, 2009 at 9:45 pm
Janie says:
Praying for all of y’all.
August 9th, 2009 at 10:06 pm
Nicole says:
I don’t know who it is or what it is and the most important part of all is that I don’t need to. You have my thoughts, prayers and greatest of hopes through all of this. HUGS.
August 9th, 2009 at 11:02 pm
Amysprite says:
I am so happy to hear that you got good news! May you all have a safe journey back home.
August 9th, 2009 at 11:14 pm
Heather says:
Maggie, sometimes just being the witness to what is happening is the most important part. It is the long moments of watching and knowing. You must see it from your perspective because that is your part to play here. Remember that you are here for that person and being is the most you can do for anyone.
August 9th, 2009 at 11:35 pm
Kelley @ Magnetoboldtoo says:
even though I have no idea what is going on, your words, your turn of phrase always have me enthralled and compelled to say something, anything, to let you know I am here.
Listening.
Smootches my lovely.
August 9th, 2009 at 11:56 pm
Elaine says:
Your words are so powerful; I’m in awe of them.
I pray that the light gets brighter; that you come out of this, that the memory of these days will soften and blur and become a story of the power of faith for you all.
August 10th, 2009 at 1:49 am
Erica says:
Your words have taken mine away.
For a moment, they put me in that place that you don’t want to visit, and that’s as close as it gets to praying that this will turn out well. Not a prayer for a stranger, but a heart rending in sympathy. Your story, her story, our story. All together. Wishing you strength, comfort, and hope.
August 10th, 2009 at 3:51 am
Marinka says:
what a relief. Here’s to more good news!
August 10th, 2009 at 4:40 am
vodkamom says:
I am glad that all is looking up. I continue to pray….
August 10th, 2009 at 4:42 am
Mojo,NC,USA says:
Sis… this might be one of the happiest sad stories I’ve ever read. And… damn. Talk about having no words. Even when you don’t, you do.
You amaze me girl.
August 10th, 2009 at 4:56 am
JD at I Do Things says:
Maggie, I’m so glad to hear that things are looking up. Once again you stun me with your beautiful talent–somehow managing to pull those evocative and perfect words from your poor tired brain. It may be all about you (in the end, it’s usually about ourselves in some way), but you make it accessible for everyone.
August 10th, 2009 at 6:17 am
pamela ~ the dayton time says:
I’m glad things are looking up.
Hang in there.
August 10th, 2009 at 6:19 am
Secret Agent Mama/Mishelle says:
You have my thoughts and prayers, Maggie.
August 10th, 2009 at 7:05 am
JES says:
Maggie —
One of the hallmarks of a gifted writer who also happens to be gifted as a human being is that they hedge their commentary on someone else’s life by acknowledging “It’s not about me” — but then, in proceeding to proceeding to describe how it’s affecting them, make every single reader think I know exactly how you feel. All of a sudden it’s not just the subject’s experience, or the writer’s: it’s all of ours.
That you somehow manage to do this (not just in this post, but often) without ever freaking saying what exactly the situation is just strikes me dumb.
I don’t comment often, but can’t help thinking of you and the people you love at times like this one. Be well and be safe.
John
August 10th, 2009 at 7:17 am
Kori says:
Breathing a sigh of relief for all of you over here.
August 10th, 2009 at 7:19 am
Velma says:
Makes my morning a little brighter to read these words. Takes a little of the pressure of the universe off my brain. Still sending you and yours good vibes, though.
August 10th, 2009 at 7:39 am
Fran says:
John (JES) really said it well. I’m moved by your well-crafted articulation that gives meaning to the unstated. Collectively, you’ve captured our hearts.
Your family continues to be soaked, steeped, bathed in prayer.
August 10th, 2009 at 8:19 am
Postmarc says:
Dammit, the mountains and meadows of yellow flowers will always be there. Sometimes unexpected situations like this remind us that members of our families aren’t like those distant snow-covered vistas. I am so cautiously overjoyed that the prognosis is better than when you had to take your detour.
When you get blindsided by events like this, it makes Copernicus wrong. The world shifts and revolves solely and singularly around our family and the one in need. The slow-motion fog and tunnelvison of passing time helps the inword focus and examination of the meaning of our lives and our families and makes us examine our deepest core. You have an inner strength that carries the others. Even when you can’t find the words, the wrong, rusted cans you string together communicate your beautiful soul to all listening.
You live life fully, you know many, you love a few, you always paddle as fast as your slowest canoe.
I’ll keep prayin’ for you and the family.
August 10th, 2009 at 9:02 am
Lil says:
So glad to hear there’s been good news. Positive thoughts being sent to those who need them.
Also, again your writing just blows me away. The phrase, you never cease to amaze me, comes to mind.
August 10th, 2009 at 9:07 am
Issa says:
I am truly glad that you guys are getting some good news. Hope whoever it is continues to get better. Hugs to you.
August 10th, 2009 at 10:01 am
Xbox4NappyRash says:
Continued best wishes to the whole family.
August 10th, 2009 at 10:15 am
Nora says:
I haven’t been around much in awhile, so catching up on the events. Here’s to strength and peace for you all.
August 10th, 2009 at 11:14 am
Amanda says:
Trying to slip in between the pauses and let you know you are surrounded in wishes and hopes and prayers and promises. You and your entire circle, within another.
August 10th, 2009 at 1:02 pm
Nina says:
I’ve done that too. Been bowled over by the gratitude for what I was spared, while being torn for someone else’s situation.
I’m glad things are looking up.
August 10th, 2009 at 1:43 pm
Emily R says:
sending my thoughts
August 10th, 2009 at 4:14 pm
nic @mybottlesup says:
oh love…. i wish you peace…. and rest….. and contentment. you are doing all that you can. and that is immense.
peace, my friend.
August 10th, 2009 at 4:40 pm
Jewels says:
Thinking you. That is all I can say. Thinking of you…and them…
August 10th, 2009 at 4:45 pm
Bon says:
i’m glad. just glad.
keep breathing, all of you.
August 10th, 2009 at 4:48 pm
Jennifer says:
Oh I’m so glad things are looking up!!
August 10th, 2009 at 5:37 pm
Lisa says:
Been praying for you and your family. So glad to hear things are taking a turn for the better.
August 10th, 2009 at 6:11 pm
Frelle says:
Praying for rest for your brain & your emotions & restorative sleep! So glad to hear your voice in your posting!
August 10th, 2009 at 6:41 pm
Heather of the EO says:
You found the words despite your brain now quite working right. You really did.
Hoping with you,
Heather
August 10th, 2009 at 7:02 pm
sizzle says:
I so so so hope everything turns out okay.
August 10th, 2009 at 7:07 pm
Jenna says:
Your family/friend is in my thoughts, Maggie. I certainly understand the desire to keep their lives private.
August 10th, 2009 at 8:30 pm
Margaret (Nanny Goats) says:
Good news, Maggie.
I’m just here to say I’m thinking of you.
Wait, that didn’t come out right. I don’t mean that it’s good news that I’m here. What I meant was, that what YOU said was good…oh, forget it. You know what I meant.
August 10th, 2009 at 10:31 pm
Gwen says:
Maggie, man, sometimes I think if you didn’t have bad fortune, you’d have none at all. Glad to hear it’s turned a corner. Be good to yourself, okay?
August 11th, 2009 at 9:54 am
tracey says:
Maggie, I still don’t know what is going on, but know that you have a ton of support from all of us. Take care of yourself and your loved ones. Take care….
August 11th, 2009 at 2:43 pm
Aunt Jenn says:
Thinking of you, and of them. All of them. Please take and send on my thoughts and well-wishes. Much much much love.
August 11th, 2009 at 6:05 pm
starrlife says:
Late catching up but still working for you and yours! Beautifully written.
August 11th, 2009 at 8:44 pm
Jennifer H says:
I’m so glad there’s good news.
One thing I know is that your words will never leave you for long. It’s a thing I count on, love.
August 12th, 2009 at 12:05 am
Mr. Chuck says:
Thank You God and Hallelujah! All My Love and prayers from across the world. Give those kids a hug for me one to the big kid too!
-C-
August 12th, 2009 at 12:26 pm
catrinkas says:
You have a brilliant way with words – especially in describing your lack of words – and your very guarded description of a lack of words to describe something you are so carefully not quite describing… all well done and difficult to do. We rely on words to describe, and here you are raw and pure emotion, somehow, with other words – not those that describe the tangible. And my less-than tangible prayers follow you, with the falling stars. Good thoughts your way.
August 12th, 2009 at 2:01 pm
Okay, Fine, Dammit » Big Sky Montana Goodbye says:
[...] lie still, unable to move, and give in completely to your body’s most basic functions. You can’t find your words but you can walk a confident path through the snake-like hospital labyrinth. You want to weep over [...]
August 12th, 2009 at 8:31 pm
A Free Man says:
I’m glad things are coming around. I’m behind on my reading and didn’t know what y’all were going through. You’ll be in my thoughts.
August 13th, 2009 at 5:01 am
Renée aka Mekhismom says:
I am so glad to hear the good news. Whew.
August 13th, 2009 at 7:49 am
Sue says:
Finally catching up on my reading. WOW.
I too hope that you never have to experience the past two weeks from the point of view of “the wife”. But oh how thankful I am that you were there my friend.
August 16th, 2009 at 7:03 pm
Kristin Lynch says:
I have been behind in my reading and just got caught up on what you’ve been going through. I’m sending prayers your way. I know things are going better now for you and your family, but you’re still on my prayer list.
Take care and take a deep breath. It might be a good time to do something that makes you feel a little spoiled. You’ve more than earned it.
August 30th, 2009 at 1:36 pm