To have and to hold.....

You'd think that living with a man for going on 12 years now, and after all the chaos we have had for six of those years, we'd grow tired of one another and not have anything to talk about.  Nothing could be further from the truth. 

Mike is one of the most INTELLIGENT men I've ever met, and his life experience and love of history add to that.  And he's FUNNY.  Last night, as he was making hot chocolate (which helps with weaning off the Dilauded, apparently) we sat at the table and TALKED.  No television to distract, no radio, just he and I and cups of hot chocolate.  And we talked.  For a good two hours, and this man can STILL make me laugh, BELLY LAUGH and giggle.  Whether history (he was a history major in college), any kind of history from all periods, or current events, he has a brain that absorbs information, sports, religion, cars, ANYTHING, I always learn something from him.  He shared stories of the Army and Ft. Leavenworth last night and I saw how hard it was for a boy  whose father left home when he was six, whose stepfather  left his mom in disgust and divorce when he was a teenager, how hard it was to learn how to be a man, how to make his way in the world.  Born to a 16 year old girl who never, EVER wanted him, and told him every chance she got how much she hated him and how much he’d ruined her life.  From nine on he had to raise his brother more often than not.  He endured beatings at the hands of his mother that were agonizing and painful enough to make him pass out, only to wake up and have her start in again.  He learned as a child that sleeping with a heavy blanket on, even in summer, meant he had a few seconds to get his thoughts together from out of a deep sleep when she’d come home at 3:00 a.m. and start slamming a shovel handle down on him because she was pissed off and drunk.  She’d make a pot of runny spaghetti or tuna casserole and then leave for a week, whoring around rodeos looking for fun.  To this day tuna casserole is NEVER mentioned and I had to learn to make spaghetti that could stand up like concrete or he wouldn’t eat it.  Nothing for me to get pissy about, I just had to learn that if I wanted spaghetti, it couldn’t remind him one iota about the slop his mom made.  He loves my spaghetti.  Through a disastrous first marriage, loss and pain, the 90's, when he limped through life, he was a totally rudderless ship that just bounced off rocky shores.  He made his mistakes and had to own those mistakes and move on. 

When we found each other, after 20 years, in 2001 he was just coming out of those years of the 90's when he felt lost and felt the loss of so much in his life.  He didn't care about living for many of those years and just went through the motions, yet finding each other gave us both purpose.  I found a photo of us taken when we were moving him from Seattle to Denver, where I lived at the time.  Katherine was only 11, we had a clean slate before us, time to draw up a life together.  We both looked worn out by life yet willing to give it all another try with a new mate.   Both of us regret his lack of nerve in high school to try and engage me in more conversation, and my absolute ignorance of what this gangly teenager was trying to accomplish when he’d appear out of NOWHERE and try to get me to say “hi” to him.  He’d already faced so much rejection and humiliation at home from his mother.  He was afraid of feeling that same rejection and humiliation from me, someone he fell in love with from across the crowded hallways of school and could never summon enough nerve to just grab my hand, sit me down, and tell me his true feelings.  We both went opposite directions, amazingly, our roads crossed several times over the next 20 years and we never knew it.  When our first conversation on the phone EVER began with him saying, “I had the WORST crush on you in high school and you got away from me.  I can’t let that happen again.  We are meant to be together,” you know your days of dating and searching are over.  I’d been claimed and that was that.  The photo I found during the move from Seattle to Denver was that of a man with his arm around his new found love, tired, yet still anxious to get on with our life and see what memories we could create.  There is completeness in our lives now.  While we wish we could go back to the days of high school and live all that newness and youth and new love and discovery we never got to have, we live in the here and now and try to not let the past wants and wishes get in the way of what is.  Reminiscing from time to time is fun, but why waste time wondering about what could have been when we have to get through the now.

The night before we got married at the courthouse in Golden, Colorado, I found him on the bed, lying on his side staring at the wall.  I asked what was wrong and he motioned for me to lie down next to him.  I scooted in close to him so he curled up behind me.  He put his arm around me and whispered in my ear, “Please, don’t ever lie to me, cheat on me, or steal from me.  Can you promise me that?  I am scared and I need to know.”  I made that promise.  He was scared stupid.  All of the past that he’d been trying to run from and ignore slammed full into him and he had to crawl through the wreckage to get to me. 

I can’t lie and say the past 12 together have been idyllic.  No one can.  God knows we have been through a LOT.  But you make your mind up that you will just get through it and never let go of hands.  We held each other and cried when my uncle was murdered.  My uncle was the closest thing he ever had to a father figure and it was with my uncle riding around in a truck that he first saw me when I was in the eighth grade.  Uncle Francis was THRILLED when we finally sealed our lives together, and we were the last two family members to see him alive before he was murdered.  He’d seen two people he loved come together and then he went Home.  Mike toweled me off after my shower and dressed me in the hospital after my hysterectomy.  He held my hand when I waiting for my cancer surgery, scared about having my back cut open to widen margins around my melanoma site.  He suffered through nine months of pregnancy (I like to remind him just how good God truly is when you call your wife a Silverback Gorilla and LIVE to see the next day), Ali’s birth, Katherine’s stupidity and refusal to play by house rules and show respect, my mother shredding our family, his grandma’s illness and death, moves, job losses, home losses, his diabetes and all the insanity that goes with that, returning to prison work, his knee and eye surgeries, the first time he saw his grandchildren for the first time and held his grandson, hugging his daughter for the first time in 18 years, and finally, the night he nearly died because a raging bacteria found an opportunity to jump on a body and wreak havoc and hell on him.

After all this time with each other, and all we have been through, I still learn new things about him every day.  He is fascinating and if he has an opinion, it’s not from a knee jerk, emotional reaction.  Rather, it’s from an educated and logical attempt to reconcile that opinion to his life and his beliefs. He taught me that knowledge is power, and power does not mean broadcasting everything that enters your brain, but holding on to that knowledge to further your way down the road, to make things work in your favor.  Earning his trust wasn’t easy.  I had to work HARD to earn it, but it’s made me a better woman and wife.  I have found my voice and my spine and earned his respect, which he does not freely give to women.  I’ve learned with to speak up and I’ve learned when to shut up.  I’ve learned that a man’s respect and trust will get you further in a relationship than a tight body and perky boobs, but I’d still love to have the latter as much as I have the former.  No matter, he loves me just as I am.  A tight body and perky boobs won’t make helping him off the toilet when his leg has been chewed up by a bacteria, but it would make the process more fun.  I will make note of that for later.  We can joke and tease each other mercilessly yet we have each other’s back.  I married a man that can make a gas grill sing and make steak from that gas grill taste like manna from heaven.  He commandeers the kitchen at Thanksgiving and revels in his dressing and what woman doesn’t love someone else cooking Thanksgiving dinner?

He has seen things in prison life, some of which he has told me, much of which he won’t.  When he left the Army and began working at Kansas State Pen, his size and muscle was used to pound inmates.  Day and day out for six months, “Mongo” was ordered to keep inmates in line.  This was back in the day when inmates didn’t have more rights than their victims.  He’s not proud of it now, that’s just the way things were handled back then.  For a child that was hated from birth, and endured brutal beatings, the anger and hatred he’d bottled up for so many years was now being unleashed and prison was where it was all let out.  He gained a reputation but also respect.  When he went back to prison work at Oregon State Pen he was taken around on a tour and incredibly heard, “Hey bossman!”  He turned to see a prisoner that he’d had at KSP.  The inmate shook his hand and turned to the man taking Mike around the prison.  “Man, I got some stories about this man—he was BADASS.”  “Ok, let’s keep that under wraps, D.  That was then and this is now and I don’t need that rep following me here.”  The inmate understood and nothing else was said, ever.  I later learned that when an inmate calls an officer “BOSS” it’s an acronym for “Stupid Son Of a Bitch.”  Unless you know prison language, you think you’re being called a name of honor.  The inmate wasn’t calling Mike a derogatory name, he truly DID respect him.  But, as I said, I am always learning something from him. 

I have written so much about the last six months because it was so impactful on our lives.  It has also given me so much newfound respect and love for this man that I exchanged vows with.  I am SO thankful he’s still around to sit at the table at 11:00 p.m. after a long day, and make me giggle over cups of hot chocolate.  What a privilege it is to be called his wife.

The Boy King (in his dreams)

I shit you not. 

Now, if we are to believe this, one night, a young Stanley Ann Dunham was visited by an angel of the Lord and he said, "Rejoice, highly favored one, the Lord is with you, blessed are you among women! Do not be afraid, Stanley Ann! And by the way, who do I have to strike down for giving you such a name? No matter, you have found favor with God! And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bring forth a son, and you shall call his name Barack, or Barry, or any number of names he will be known by, along with the Social Security Numbers for each name and the appropriate student records that won't amount to a hill of beans. And the Lord will give him the throne of his father.....what's that? His father doesn't have a throne, but a tin shack in Kenya? No, no, that won't do. He will be given the Oval Office of the White House--what's that? No, I'm not being racist. I'm an angel of the Lord. It's been called the White House for many, many presidents, my dear Stanley Ann. No racial pun intended. I'm sorry? No, we can't call it the Black House, or the House of Kenya, or the House of Pancakes, or the House of the Hawaiian Lie, or......woman, can you just shut up? I'm giving you this boy king to birth and raise and we're arguing over colors swatches. Now, let's see, oh, yes! What's that? How can this be as you don't know the father? Honey, no one does. But anyway, boom! There, now you're with child. He will assume the office of the President, some would say he will STEAL the office, but again, let's not argue details. And he will lead people to the food stamp offices, and he will touch the lives of many as they lose their jobs and he will try to recreate the poverty of Kenya from that White House--yes, I know, the race thing bugs you. Seriously, Stanley Ann, now I'm starting to understand why you were given such a name, you really are quite a pain in the rear with all these questions. Here, take the boy king and watch him lead! Lead where? Well, you know the saying, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions"......yes, that's the road he'll take them down........for the love of all that is holy, I cannot rename it The Black House......."

And that's how this magazine cover came to be. Curtsy.

The finish line is ALMOST in view.....

Two weeks ago on December 31 I posted the final photo for 2012 of Mike's leg. I didn't go to the appointment today so the nurse took the photos for me but the healing that has taken place in just two weeks is incredible. What was one long open area that day became two smaller areas last week since the epithelial islands merged together and joined both sides of the wound. Within the next day it looks like it will soon be three small areas. It is as if the wound is racing to close up. 

Christina was his nurse today. Each one of the nurses has her special thing she likes to do. Christina, the quietest and most gentle spirited of the staff, always takes extra care and time to debride as much as she can, and massage Aquaphor into the graft site. Aquaphore is a very thick gel that looks like gelled water. It's a good sealant for the skin and keeps it moist and supple. The widest part of the wound is 1 centimeter. The nurses routinely pop into the room during changes now with eyes wide and excited to see the changes and how it looks. They are always professional and keep thoughts on your illness mostly professional, but now that he's so close to being healed, nearly every one of the nurses has said that Mike's wound was the worst they'd ever had to treat. Each agrees that he's a miracle man, spared from the worst of the damage that nec/fac leaves in its wake. God ALWAYS receives the glory for the healing because there is no other explanation for this case other than His power.

Today he had an appointment at a business that makes hinged knee braces. Hanger Prosthetics & Orthotics is the company that fitted Winter the dolphin with a prosthetic tail, as shown in the movie A Dolphin Tale. This is part of SAIF's lifetime care for his right knee as a result of the prison injury when he worked at OSP. The knee brace will be ready on February 12 and will help his gait as he walks more and more, it will serve to stabilize the knee so it doesn't get tired and weak and give out with the extra work of taking the burden off the left foot.

Tomorrow I begin the process of getting him a compression sock that he will have to wear for life. Since the lymphatic system of that part of the leg was removed the night of the initial surgery, August 1, he will have to have the compression sock to force the lymphodemic fluid from his foot and move it on up the leg and into the remaining lymphatic system. Keeping the swelling down with compression of the ace wraps has helped monumentally with the quickness of healing.

Finally, the paperwork SAIF required for resuming physical therapy is in the pipeline and once that's finalized he will be back with the physical therapist that helped him in 2011 so his quads and hamstrings will be strengthened, ankles will have better range of motion, and he will learn to walk so that the right leg can take on more of the work of holding him up, yet not wrecking the knee work that Dr. Sedgewick did for him in 2010.

Looking back over the last four years and noting the amazing doctors and professionals that have been part of keeping Mike on his feet, I can only say without hesitation that God was hand-picking them all along the way. Everyone works in concert with everyone else to try to give him a quality of life that will make him feel like he can get up every day and contribute to our lives. Last week he worked on two different days on the truck. He's able to do so much more than just go sit on the stool in the garage and stare at his car. Rather than dwell on his limitations, he's working on doing what he CAN do. Once again, God has not left or forsaken him, as He promises in the scriptures, rather he just showed Mike that he's capable of many things with the King in charge.

We are SO, SO close to the finish line!