Trying to find the blessings

I’ve got the best friends.

I don’t know how I’d get through all of this without them.

I spoke to the neurologist after Kate’s episode on Tuesday. She’s ordering some other tests in addition to the already scheduled MRI. Talking to the doctor does nothing to alleviate my worries and I’m freaked out.

My friend Jenn comes by the house to see how we’re doing. It takes her all of five seconds to realize that I’m at the breaking point. And less time than that to tell me she’s coming with me for the appointments.

The first one is a 24-hour EKG in Saint John. We decide to make an overnight girls trip out of it. Just us and our daughters, instead of driving up and back both days. Liam is staying with another good friend of mine. Blessing number two.

Packing for the trip and readying the house in the morning before we leave – my mind is spinning with all I’ve got to do.
We’re just about to go through the door and I realize we need extra socks so I head down to the laundry room to get some – only to be greeted by muddy water on my laundry room floor.

The septic has backed up and has blown the backflow valve.

“Dear God – what do I do now?” I whisper.

I can’t miss Kate’s appointment. No one else can take her. It has to be a parent. And I’m the only one.

I’m fighting back tears of frustration as I dial my friend’s number. I know she’s probably still at physiotherapy but I’m hoping she can help.

I speak to her man. We sort out a plan. I’ll leave signed blank cheques – he’ll call the plumber and the septic guy and will come to the house to take care of things.

I can almost feel the tears spurt from the tips of my eyelashes.

“Go and get Kate taken care of,” he tells me. “We’ll take care of stuff here.” Blessing number three.

The drive down to the port city is faster than normal because of our delay in departure.

We head directly for the hospital and Kate goes right in to be set up with the EKG Halter machine. She’s none too pleased by the leads but once her jacket is on she’s resigned to the fact they’re going to stay.

An afternoon of shopping, eating and chatting is what is on the menu – and between frantic phone calls to check on progress at the house I somehow manage to have a good time.

We’re back at the hotel and we turn on the television. CTV News net is flashing the latest news from the desert. Four Canadian soldiers have lost their lives in two separate IED attacks. Eight soldiers are wounded.

My eyes flash from the screen to Jenn. “It’ll be okay – you know it’s not Rick,” she says. But as a fellow military spouse, I can see in her eyes that the news is a shock to her as well.

I feel as if I’ve swallowed a cannon ball. It feels like my stomach is somewhere in the vicinity of my ankles.

The media is at it again. They’re calling in obscure “experts” and asking them if the losses are “acceptable”.

Stupid questions. Of course losses aren’t “acceptable” a death of a soldier is not acceptable it’s tragic. They’ve managed to dig and discover that one of the soldiers has died on his birthday. Over and over again they play up that fact – as if four deaths weren’t tragic enough already.

Jenn knows I want to reach out to Rick. She’s brought her laptop and we go online so I can send him a message. I’m glad she’s here. I can’t imagine how much worse this day would be without her and her beautiful girl.

Somewhere in the night I discover Kate is allergic to the adhesive on the leads. Poor thing is turning very red – but I don’t dare remove them. Instead I cat nap all night to keep her from scratching them off in her sleep.

After Kate’s appointment on Saturday we’re heading home and I am struck by how I have been blessed by the friends I have.

They’re not a substitute for Rick. But since he can’t be here – they’re my strength and my support. They have given so much since we’ve been going through this and I am so grateful for their presence in my life.

Day 210