06/16/2020
There’s no place like home. ❤️
I don’t know where to start, and honestly I don’t know why I’m still here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very, very happy to be out of the hospital and cozy with Archie and my boys, but this whole cardiac arrest TWICE thing and a laundry list of other really scary things that happened that should have killed me...I’m in that fog of why am *I* even alive. Why me, and not that person or that person or that child. It’s a super weird place to be mentally. Does that make sense? It’s surreal.
Here’s my new office: I’ve got a vase of blown out ranuncs my youngest son cut me from the tunnel, my new cookbook that my oldest boy bought and my middle boy cooks my new diet from, water water water, a little brass “help me” bell.
My daily farmer diary has abruptly been replaced with a medication log, soooo many pills.
I’ve got a major pillow fort going on here on the couch as going upstairs is still tricky (I have a freaking WALKER) and Theo is pretty much always nearby. It’s weird how dogs can sense something is wrong.
So that’s a glimpse into our new normal. It’s bizarre: your small business? Let’s have a pandemic. Your heart? Let’s stomp the crap out of it. Twice. Break a dozen ribs while we’re at it.
Just please please keep my family healthy and safe.
I almost never ask for anything. Just that, and one more thing: is there anyone local who can help me comb out my hair? I’ve developed several matted areas from being bed bound. I can’t use my arms well, CPR hurts a lot. Dreadlocks are cool on other folks but I’m not wearing them well. I reached out to my salon but...crickets. I’ll probably need to cut all my hair off but would really rather not!
There. I did it. I asked for help.