My poor family has been questioning my very existence after not posting in so long. Isn’t it odd how we evolve? Our projects and needs just evolve and things shift in and out of our reality, our blood. I so needed to blog, to journal, to have an outlet when this started. Moving to the country and creating our farm was so much daunting work. So much hardship. So much learning. And humor. Dear Lord if I’d slipped the ability to laugh at myself it was forced upon me like an unwanted feeding tube and I relearned, quickly. I laugh at myself more than I can ever imagine laughing at others. This is a good thing, yes? So I came here. I created this space to share my experience and it quickly turned in to more.
One of the first posts I made was when I realized my husband was dying. I remember the anger, the fear, and the dark hallway of doors I refused to open that I talked about. And then kindness. The blogging community, perfect faceless strangers to me, approached and gathered to hold an auction of crafts to raise money for us. Ed’s medication was purchased with those proceeds and I am eternally grateful.
Then came the goats, horses, and cows. Followed by many manure stories and learning to ride again after so many years. Wild mustangs and horsemanship became my focus and daily reality. Children and school events came after only to be topped by Ed catching on fire. I mean really, how many people can write with humor about their husband catching on fire? I’ve got a gift I tell you, a gift. Over the holidays, after the dining room renovation, my dear SIL moved in with us. The circumstances that brought her here are heart wrenching and, most certainly, not my story to tell. My outlet changed during this time, my marriage evolved. I’ve never spoken here about such intimate details and because they involve my husband and his deepest thoughts, I won’t. Suffice it to say that we have both found an outlet which has led to the happiest of times. A renewed marriage, a better life for our children, love like I’ve only read about. He is the ying to my yang, my best friend and I’ve never been happier. The need for this outlet waned. Although interesting at times to read, it was truly my heart and self-induced therapy. And I moved on. I focused on other things, other needs in my life and neglected my friend, my journal, my story, my little space in the universe of the internet.
I think that’s going to change. I think it’s going to evolve yet again. If I haven’t bored you enough by now, allow me to explain.
I wrote recently a bit about Darren, my oldest, and the difficult pregnancy that led to his existence. I’ve always shared this story with others in a matter-of-fact manner. Rather than telling you of the time I got a flat on the way to the grocery store, I shared how I nearly died during a 5-weeks hospital stay and my husband had to choose during a surgery to save me or the growing baby I carried. I did so without emotion, for the most part. I answered questions over the years at times from perfect strangers but hated to keep them long. They were required to show their interest by asking questions and keeping me talking, far be it from me to take up too much of their time by pontificating. But this, too, shaped me. I’ve left strangers and brief acquaintances sobbing in tears and hugging me like their life depended on it. I walked away wracked with guilt at sharing such intimate details, making them cry, taking their time while they’ve walked away uplifted, rejoicing, and thankful for hearing about such a miracle.
Which leads me too the entire point of this entry.
It happened last night.
I’m standing in line at Dillons Pharmacy and one of the employees came up to discuss work with the pharmacist. I know the employee’s name, Deb, and we often say hello or other quick greeting since I’m in there many hrs each week. We’ll joke because she’s a stocker but will ask me where something is because I know the store like the back of my hand. Anyway, she asked about when the storm’s coming and mentioned about 10 yrs or so ago having a February where it was so warm she was outside in a t-shirt planting flowers. I smiled and said it was 1996 and I remembered because I was in the hospital and getting depressed so they wheeled me outside to sit in the courtyard with my husband. Which led her to ask why I was in there and even though I tried to just shorten it up like I just had a difficult pregnancy and was there for 5 weeks it just led to a couple more questions and before you know it 15 minutes had gone by, two other customers, AND the pharmacist were standing there listening. Poor Deb started crying and gave me this huge hug as she left telling me how motivational that story was and yada yada yada. It got me thinking.
I’d like to share this story, I think it’s what I’m supposed to do - if that makes sense.
Throughout the years of this online journal I’ve received so many comments telling me I should write a book so it’s only fitting that I announce it here - I’m writing a book. Well, not a book exactly in the normal sense - I don’t think such a thing would ever be published, let alone sold. But I’m going to write it out. I’m going to put it to paper (or a laptop) and send it off to magazines and organizations. I’m going to offer to speak at nursing schools to show the students what a tremendous impact they can make on a patient’s life. Do you think Charlene ever thinks of me? Do you think she has any idea, even one iota, of what she did for me? I need to tell her. I need to tell these people what they’re going to be faced with and how their actions will change lives. Change families.
I’ve never done such a thing. I’ve never climbed a mountain or set out for such an adventure. And I haven’t the faintest idea how to even begin. But I’ll figure it out. And I’ll do it here. Alone or with only a few members of my family stopping by sometimes to check on me, I’ll do it here.
For some reason I hear the saying “Off with the hounds!” I have no idea why. 
