God has been our sustainer, our healer, our provider, our ever-present peace, our strength, our hope, our grace, our mercy, and our loving Father. During times of faith being sorely tested, Mike has drawn on the love of Jesus. "He hung on that cross for ME. If he can soldier through mockery, being spit on, humiliated, beaten, whipped to within an inch of his life, and then taking those spikes for ME on Calvary's cross, I can get through this."
Some day days have been nearly impossible to get through. He lost 100 lbs. in 90 days from fluid loss alone. You simply cannot comprehend the amount of fluid in our bodies until you experience something like this. Four PICC lines, 12 weeks of daily antibiotic drips, four trips to the Emergency Room, bombarding his body with prescription medications from Cipro and other antibiotics, Atavan, Gabapentin, Lasix, prescription strength potassium, Nabumatone, Vicodin, Dilaudid, Morphine, along with his normal Humalog and Lantus for his diabetes. These meds have taken a toll on his body, despite the fact that they saved him and have kept him going. Now, two years later, he has another surgery looming to remove a cataract on his right eye, and seeing if everything comes together for the bka, or "below the knee amputation" that ironically will give him a quality of life he cannot have now. His days consist of incredible pain, swarms of nerve pain on the skin graft that feel like yellow jackets attacking his leg. The casting attempt last year killed nerves in his foot and the removal of the tendon on the top of his foot that was found to be infected have left him with a "drop foot", or inability to control how the foot lands down when walking. He cannot hike, play basketball, go to the beach and walk in the sand, go camping, hunting, nothing, for fear of the skin graft tearing and introducing almost certain infection once again. We have had close calls over the past year when the skin graft had spots wear through to meat but the knowledge I gained from the nurses at Wound Care enabled us to heal them and continue his care at home.
There are days of tears, days of questions, and days of quiet satisfaction and gratitude when we see victories, no matter how big or small, we accept them all. I've been wife, lover, doctor, nurse, physical therapist, ass kicker, tissue provider, hugger, bottle washer, meal maker, housekeeper, transportation specialist, auto mechanic, domestic goddess, and medical/social/personal secretary, keeping a myriad of doctors and appointments made and kept, paperwork done, an unbelievable amount of medical supplies out of our own pockets as we have watched income dwindle. If I had a dollar for every time he broke down and said to me, "You didn't sign up for this. This isn't fair to you and not fair to Alison," I'd be sipping drinks on a beach somewhere on a vacation we've never ever been able to take. That's when I remind him of the words of his grandfather: "You take it all, put it on the floor in a pile, and call it life." We have grown closer than most couples ever grow, and then there are those days when the nicest thing we can say to each other is, "Shut up."
Alison has learned the ugly reality of life, that life isn't a sitcom where issues are solved in 22 minutes not counting commercial breaks, and sometimes, you hear "No." a LOT. She's been such an incredible blessing, handling a sick dad and the life that comes with it with grace and dignity that belies her age and would shame many adults, and then there are days when she's had enough. Toss puberty into the mix ("I hate that I'm growing hair down THERE! I look like a NEANDERTHAL!") and you have an intelligent, emotional, grown-up-faster-than-most-kids
Above all else, through good and bad, happy and sad, victory and disappointment, we have seen the hand of God, unmistakably and miraculously, reaching out, steadying the ship, bringing sun when we needed to feel warmth, and bringing rain to wash away fear and tears. Above all else, we strive to glorify Him and give Him the praise due for all He's done and the lives that have been touched by us stripping away any and all pretense and bringing so uncountable many along with us on this journey. I have lost friends because of our transparency and gained friends because of our transparency. Many, many "friends" of Mike's have disappeared, unable or unwilling to truly be what a friend is: faithful. Life is ugly at times and some can't handle ugly, and then there are those precious few that have stayed by his side, making him laugh his way through a phone call. Our church has blessed our socks off with mentors and pastors that have walked alongside Mike and just LISTENED. Men are not the strong silent type all the time. They need someone to listen just like women do. Thank God for the men that have stayed at his side. I feel sorry for those that have walked way. True colors are not pretty. Heidi Fordham, the rudder on the ship named Lori, has been an incredible blessing to me, my own personal Santa, sister in Christ, and best friend. People like this are like yeast in bread: They raise you up when you are languishing on the bottom of the bread pan and allow you to be light and golden. My sweet Katherine Skowronek has reminded me time and again that each day is new, don't dwell on the past, true family sticks beside you and loves you no matter what, and that I cannot let those that turn their backs on us overshadow those that are still standing with us.
Time to shut up and get on with the day. Thank you all so much for loving us and walking us through some very, very painful and difficult days. As we watch the world spiral out of control, the song on my heart is "amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me." God is very real and very much alive and Jesus, as promised, has never left of forsaken us. Thank you, God bless you all, and Maranatha!
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