I am heading home this morning. I thought the flight was early but then a giant stomachache woke me up at 2:43 am and I thought – now that’s early.
I have mixed feelings about going home. Of course it will be good to return to regular life but I will miss being with Marit. She is with her father now and in good hands. However I was getting used to the routine of sitting by her side and learning about her life. It is time to move on now though and get some rest. I haven’t really slept much and yesterday my diet consisted mostly of foods in the chocolate and peanut butter category. Ok there was some milk in there too.
I’ve never been in a hospital much. These past few days I have been in the hospital more than in my entire life. I have learned that when you are lonely and hurting a hospital is a very cold, sterile place with long empty corridors and an echo that resonates the emptiness and pain you feel in your own heart. Especially later at night, the building nearly ceases of all energy and becomes a very frightening and hollow place. During the day it felt much more welcoming and safe. The halls were filled with busy people and the sun streamed into the windows. It was more hopeful then.
You realize life begins and ends in the building – and you can feel this as you walk around. Each floor brings a different bag of emotions. Marit’s floor was mostly ortho trauma. Lots of braces and casts. The recovery room in surgery was a very stark and dismal place. All the other beds were filled with still patients with tubes under blankets. Marit was the only one chatting away. It was refreshing to say the least.
A million times Marit began the conversation about my upcoming race schedule. The pain meds were making her a bit forgetful about where her thoughts would begin and end. She kept repeating my races out loud almost to remind herself. It was hard to talk about races with someone whose own race schedule was put on hold. But still she was interested in where I was going and why.
Part of me feels very regretful and almost lost about the situation. I am still not sure why she was hurt and why I was ok. I wish I could take back her hurt. I would give her my sacrum and hip if it meant she could race at Ironman. But that is not possible. And though that makes me said I also know that I cannot dwell on it for her sake or mine. It was a friend who reminded me yesterday that I must keep moving in the direction of my dreams – because that is what Marit wants me to do and what I need to do. If the situation was reversed that is what I would want her to do.
In all of this I cannot believe how many people have literally crawled out of the internet to support Marit. It showed me the value of the online community and how close we can be though so far away. People often ask why I started a blog – and though the reason isn’t always apparent, times like this remind me that in blogging I have made the right, worthy choice. It’s not a waste of time to share stories with the world – someone is obviously listening and when in need people heartfully respond.
I’m at the airport now. And I’ve got to inject some humor into this post. The gal behind me just told her friend she is “too drunk to go to her test today.” It’s only 6:36 am. I guess for some people the party has been going on all night. For me, it has just begun. A party of six days of mail, two days of husband alone in the house, and 8 pounds of furry Chihuahua wagging his tail.
Homeward and onward from here….
