Dear M & J,
I am writing to the both of you because I don’t have to hide anything or word things just so or beat around the bush as not to make us come across so pathetic and desperate.
I just do not have time anymore to think about the right words. And I love you both deeply. When I think of you, my eyes fill with water. Your love and support has been so very priceless. Far away you are but nearer than the nearest person could ever be.
My job. It has been an adjustment would be an understatement. I do have my moments of worry and tears but I feel like I give a good front being strong and all together.
The work is tedious and keeps my focus fully on work; a good thing. I love it, am catching on quickly, and feel it’s not just a job but a good thing. It is a pediatric medical supply company. My position works between the doctors and different insurance policies to get all the paperwork needed, making sure every i is dotted and every t crossed. I am challenged every day and work with detailed medical issues these children have. It breaks my heart over and over. But it gives me something to fight for. And I do.
I get paid every two weeks. 13.00 an hour. A fraction of what we need to make it month by month. But something. Hopefully by the end of my 90 day period they will raise me up significantly. They said that in the beginning. I’m not sure what significant means to them. I’m going with my definition for now. Hopefully significant is really significant.
However, in the meantime, I have had one breakdown of tears and someone caught me before I could reach the ‘cry room.’ ‘Are you ok?’ Well, I was until you said that... you know? She led me to a room away from everything; very kind and tenderly. ‘Do you need to go home to make sure everything’s ok? It’s ok. We understand. You have been through a lot.’ I got control and dried my tears. ‘I will be ok. I’m better now.’ And after a few moments of gathering myself up, I gave many thank you’s and I’m sorry’s then went back to my desk.
Then there was the heart attack.... I didn’t know what a heart attack felt like, but after this one, I have had many fluttery feelings like that this year. Although this one was no fluttery feeling; it was serious and super scary. It revved itself up to top speed and hit me out of the blue. I had just come home from work and was laying back in my bed talking to Hannah when things turned crazy in the blink of an eye.
Before I knew it, nine firemen were in my room, doing whatever they were doing to keep my heart going until we got to the hospital. Wow.
Just saying that,
feels terrifying.
Now I have to make myself not think about ‘O G-d! Will it happen again???’
I went back to work sooner than I should have and tried to let go of fear and worry as much as I could to keep those stress levels in line.
But in the back of my mind, I think, ‘ I’m a high risk person to hire...to keep on...to give a significant raise to...’
And I try and push those thoughts away so worry won’t take over. Sometimes I win. Sometimes I lose.
Heavy sigh...
I have today. I am going to work hard and do a good job. Not a lot of attagirls and good jobs flying around, but I pat myself on the back knowing I am doing a good job. I am!
David has taken over the household bills and all the endless paperwork needed for food stamps, the endless saga of disability that has yet to be approved, filling in financial assistance applications for every single entity of the massive hospital bills we have. No one told us to do that. We thought the hospital application would be all we needed to fill out. We recently received our approval letter back from them; finally! “Your balance is 0,” it said. One less burden to bear. I can get behind that! Now David has to send that letter to all the other people who touched him and then fill out more forms for each individual one. They don’t always go to zero but so far several of them have gone down 80%. A significant discount.
Then there is the insurance for low income families that David has been filling out as well. Bank statements, birth certificates, social security, on and on of all the documents needed for over a dozen people that David has had to be in charge of, with the help of the boys mostly. Fax this here, email this there. It is surmounting.
David doesn’t break down enough. But when he does I’m glad for him. It’s hard living in his shoes. He can’t open bottles or lids because his hands aren’t able to make a fist anymore. He cannot sit in a chair for more than 30 minutes because his feet swell up and he can’t breath as well. He spends a lot of time in his recliner. He takes a two to three hour nap every single day. He is running around more than I’m comfortable with but things have to get done. Just paperwork stuff that has to be faxed or hand delivered. David stays in the car and lets his little minions do the leg work.
Holidays aren’t so swell for him right now. Him and the boys would be camping and fishing by now but his disability prevents him from doing that. He hates being disabled. Some days are harder than others. To see him cry and break down just breaks my heart. I’m helpless. I hold him. And we cry together.
Hannah made an inside sukkah over our dining room table. And pushed ottomans and pillows together to make our L couch a big bed with saris as a tent. We have used saris to make sukkah tents for quite some time and look forward to getting a new one every year. Under 10 dollars for a four foot gorgeous piece of flowy fabric. I didn’t buy a new one this year.... Holidays aren’t quite the same right now. We have yet to find our groove.
I worked on Yom Kippur. But it didn’t bother me much except for the fact that it bothered the kids and having to leave sad faces is hard. They miss my presence at home and my shoulders are always wet from someone through the week and carried on to the weekend.
PTSD. it’s a thing. And so far it just seems like David’s life forward is at a standstill. His limitations are great; and overwhelming. Some days he is so very frustrated and we just let him frust away. And then we cry. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much in my lifetime.
And so there it is. We are just moving along at a snails pace just trying to live and love and laugh with lots of tears in the mix. It’s not normal yet.
Life is just freaking hard right now.
Oh ya, and there is a leak in the dining room ceiling. Every once in a while it leaks. David was going to fix it this year....but then things happened.
Leaky ceilings were the last thing on our minds.
It left a puddle on the floor. I haven’t told David yet. Just another thing....
I meant to call our friend to put a plastic something on our roof since there is so much rain in the forecast, but I truly didn’t have the heart to ask him yesterday. He even texted us to see how we were. ‘Glad it’s the weekend,’ I say, hesitating to say more; he does so much for us already.
I really don’t want to be so desperate anymore.
We know G-d is here.
That He loves us.
That he has brought us this far
and will not
let us go.
I know it.
I do.
I love you both so very much! Thank you for your shoulder. I just needed to have a good cry. Wish I could hug you. But then I wouldn’t want to let go.
Happy holidays!
Love, me
Post script:
I thought getting out might brighten our day. So we loaded up the wheel chair and went to natural grocers. It’s usually not very busy and maybe a good place to start getting used to going places together with our new life.
Oxygen and wheelchair. Park in handicapped. Boys are pros at setting the wheel chair up. All went well although it was our first real experience out like that. If someone looked at us, it was a pity look and a quick turn away. Others just tried not to see us. People don’t know what to say. Heavy sigh...we don’t either, so...