He's Home

This Is Us sucked me in after the Super Bowl last night—but I won’t go there. Suffice it to say, when I crawled into bed, I decided to blow off a 9 am car alignment appointment. With our coffee pot broken, I figured I’d sleep late before starting the day with Don’s stir-in kind. 

My spouse had other plans. 

Just as sunlight peeked through my eye mask, I heard a chipper, “It’s almost time to leave.”

Concerned about my car, Don pulled me from slumber, hurried me out the door, and soon followed. Car delivered, he drove me to a near-by Dunkin Donuts to wait. 

Warmed from the brew, I answered a phone call. 

“I'm calling from Emory Clinic. I was asked to give you a call and would like to apologize for what you went through during the snow storm.”

The kind administrator offered her best and listened well. Calm with coffee, I simply stressed that I don’t understand why a disabled patient was told to face the snow or lose out on a long-awaited appointment as the governor prepared to shut down the city.

Her reply? She told me about a new app they're working on that might help in the future. In my opinion, she threw a Hail Mary much like Tom Brady’s that fell right into a throng of defensive linemen. 

It didn't work for him. Or me. 

Go Eagles!! 

After hanging up with Ms. Emory, Don and I sat in his car and talked. Between her call, recent changes, and that football game last night, over an hour later passed before I thought to check on my car. I dialed the mechanic. 

“Oh… yes,” Danny started, “our technician found a torn bushing. We can repair it, but it’s pretty expensive.”

“My phone’s on speaker,” I explained. “My husband just heard what you said and he’s thinking about it.”

“Is it on the right side?” Don asked.

“The notes don’t say but I can ask our guy.”

“Don’t worry about it," Don paused. "How much will it cost to fix the bushing?”

“Over $700.00..."

Ouch! 

Ironically, the bushing probably tore when I lost control of my car and slid up onto that sidewalk while driving back from Emory in the snow. In light of the brick wall and cross walk pole that stood nearby, driving away with no dents felt miraculous. 

But damage was done. 

We opted out of the expensive fix, asked for just the alignment, and drove to eye glass store where I ordered new frames and lenses eleven days ago. 

Choosing patience last week, I waited nine days to check on them. When I did, I struggled to stay civil as the sales woman explained, "I'm sorry mam, but someone called you earlier this week to let you know that the frame you picked is too big for the lenses."

I never got a call or message. 

Undone, I practically hung up on the woman, but had to wait to fix the issue until today. 

Still rattled, I asked Don to come in for support. As I calmly perused frames with the store manager, he stepped out to make a call. Frames picked, I sat down to make the order. And there I learned that my wait would begin all over again—that the new frames and lenses would still take a week to ten days to come in.

Truth? I lost it. The whole store knew. The assistance eyes got big and at first, she pushed back. But when Don walked back in and my anger turned to tears, she softened.

This odd season of waiting on all things medical has just stretched and perplexed me. So, when the door closed behind us and we walked to Don’s car, I wept. 

I wanted to be stronger. To keep the annoyance in perspective. And part of me did. But another part of me just cried.

Half way home, Don reached over and held my hand. Only then, as we drove, I said “You know what’s crazy? You were here for all of this today. And I’m so thankful I didn’t go through it alone.”

For the last nine months, Don has worked a sales territory several hours south of here. He left on Tuesday mornings and drove home Saturday night. During the week, he stayed with his 91-year-old father.

I often felt torn. The cold winter nights grew long and suffocating in his absence. But time on the family farm with his dad allowed for cherished memories. 

Regardless, the experiences of this last month pushed my limits. And thankfully, job changes brought him home. He walked in the door for good just over a week ago.

So, today, as I contemplate waiting and all things frustrating, I celebrate messy hair, no make-up, no earrings even, and lots of tears—all with my husband patiently at my side.

He's home. And right now, that’s more than enough.

Of course, while I ate lunch this afternoon, he jumped up in air and landed firmly on bubble wrap, intending to scare the cat. I screamed instead. 

So all is not romance and bubbles. We're just two of God's people journeying together, dedicated to one another, side by side, especially now that he's home. 



all photos courtesy pixabay.com