Perspective...

The noise and chaos--within and without--of late have made it near impossible to be anywhere close to introspective and that has allowed cobwebs to build up in the corners of my head. I need to sit, de-clutter and take stock of what I have. As one of my commenters very sagely advised--I need to gain some perspective.

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Earlier this week as I was in the other room piddling about doing nothing, my son injured my daughter--resulting in a trip to the emergency room. Actually, it was my panic that sent us to the ER. The baby was fine all along.

Perspective...a couple of days later a dear friend called to tell me she had spent the day before in the ER with her daughter (five months older then Kyleigh) who fell down a flight of stairs and landed in a still, crumpled heap. She managed to escape completely unscathed--minus a few bruises--but it took several hours of CT scans and doctor examinations to come to that conclusion.

Yes, our daughters could have been hurt much worse. Yesterday they were both laughing and enjoying picking pumpkins at the pumpkin patch together.

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Almost nine years ago my husband took himself and his sore wrist to the military clinic. He was diagnosed with tendinitis and given Motrin--the Navy miracle drug. Over the years it has not only worsened, it has also spread. A civilian doctor diagnosed it as non-rheumatoid arthritis and prescribed Vioxx. Vioxx was later pulled off the market due to it's nasty side effect of killing old men--or something to do with heart attacks. Veteran's Affairs agreed that his infirmity was indeed a service related issue, granted him partial disability and the privilege of being seen at the VA hospital. Then, after all of these years of progressively getting worse, taking more and more pain medication--which was slowly eating his stomach lining--and no real answers other than, "Yep, there's something wrong, just don't know what it is", we finally got an answer.

While we were on vacation a couple of months ago Sean ended up in so much pain that he could barely walk. The second day we were at the beach, he was laying on the floor with tears in his eyes and decided that maybe it was time to go find a doctor--and I was at the door with the car keys! The elderly country doctor listened to his tale, took one look at his hands and called it. Psoriatic Arthritis. The VA doctor confirmed the diagnosis a couple of weeks ago with a round of lab work. It is a full body disease that works through the auto immune system. And if left untreated it would cripple him. One theory is that this was chemically induced. A side effect of something he was exposed to on one of his trips out to play in the desert.

Perspective...although he most likely returned with an unwelcome souvenir, he was one of the ones who returned. My children have a father who comes home to them every day and I have a husband whom I love beyond life itself. The other perspective is that this could have been a much worse prognosis. The disease, while not curable, is at least treatable.

This morning my husband began taking a medication that he will continue to take for the rest of his life. It is a form of chemotherapy that is being used as an auto immune suppressant. It has the usual side effects of chemo as well as the ability to destroy his liver. I bought him a miniature bottle of a fine 12-year-old single malt scotch that he enjoyed a couple of evenings ago. It'll be his last.

Perspective...he's on chemo lite for a form of arthritis. Not full blown chemotherapy for cancer. Once again, I get to keep my husband for a little while longer.

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I grew up around war, starvation and poverty. Politicians growing rich and fat while the little people went to bed hungry. We're facing an election here. Bickering politicians are taking up far too much oxygen. But I have the right to say that. And I have the right to vote--a vote that actually matters and counts. The women who went before me made sure of that.

Tonight I sit here in comfort and peace. Two precious little ones asleep upstairs. The dog softly snoring on the floor beside me. Quiet. I am so grateful for what I have. For what my life has turned out to be. There were so many crossroads in my past where I could have gone a different way. I can't imagine that any of those futures could possibly compare to the one I chose.

Perspective.