There’s never a dull moment…

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Yes, that’s a picture of a human skull.  No, (I don’t think) I’ve turned into a total whackadoo.  It will make a little more sense in a minute.

As you already know, I’m living at my parents’ house since we sold our house all the way back on August 20th.  We found a house that we really liked, and it turned out to be a short sale.  I’ve probably already said this, but short sales should really be called “incredibly long sales” as they could take for-ev-er to process.  We were originally slated to close on this house January 4th, but if you just checked the date and the date of this post, you must realize that it didn’t happen.

Well, our closing has been pushed back to February 28th.  I am having a baby sometime in March.  Living with my parents is still pretty darn hard, and of course we have had the extraneous situations such as Buddie’s surgery and other financial issues that have cropped up.

Now, as we are busy-busy working on selling our investment property (which is a ridiculously long story in itself, I’ll spare you), we have had another blow to the face…literally.

My dear husband Marc (insert edge of sarcasm) plays in a recreational football league.  And a softball league, but it’s the wrong time of year for that.  So this Sunday, yes, games are played on Sundays, while I traveled with Rayna & my parents to my brother’s house about 1.5 hours away, Marc was getting whacked in the face by some other player’s elbow.

Rayna & I were excited to hang out at my brother’s house (change of scenery!  cousins!  food that I didn’t cook!) & while I glanced down at my phone I saw a great many missed calls and texts and voicemails from Marc.  Upon checking them I got that sinking feeling that something was wrong & when I called his phone it was answered by a football friend.  It was very disorienting to hear a man answer your husband’s phone and repeat things that don’t make sense upon first hearing.  “I’m in your house” he repeated several times, which sounded very strange–I kept just thinking perhaps this is some kind of scam–and then the story about Marc getting a concussion made a bit more sense.

I asked to speak to Marc and he was delirious and his speech was slurred.  To make a really long story a bit shorter, all I got out of Marc was that he didn’t want to go to the hospital and that he just wanted to ‘relax.’  After learning that he sent his friends home, he pretty much hung up on me.  Like I said, I was an hour and a half away & worried that my delirious, possibly brain damaged husband was going to fall asleep alone at the house and never wake up.

I swiftly decided I had to call our neighbors, long-time friends of the family who not only had a key to the house, but could hopefully talk some sense into Marc about going to the hospital until I could get home.  It was sad to pull Rayna (and my parents for that matter, we had driven together) away from the family party and rush home, but I didn’t really have another choice.  Thankfully, our neighbor rushed over & saw that Marc was a mess and convinced him to wait it out at their house where he could at least be kept an eye on until I got home.

So the next chapter of this saga was the Emergency Room.  I took him of course, he was still loopy and was nauseous, so I had to speak for him, fill out his forms and all that other stuff wives are good for.  After all the usual waiting, the MRI showed that Marc has multiple facial fractures = 4 broken bones in the face.  His brain looked good, though, so that was positive, but I woke him up in the middle of the night anyway, just to be thorough.

This morning we went to the oral/maxillofacial surgeon, ironically enough the one the hospital recommended was the same one who removed both of our wisdom teeth a few years back, and the doctor confirmed what we had hoped was not, but assumed was the case: Marc needs surgery.  He explained how the cheekbone is pretty much crushed and that they will need to insert plates to reconstruct that area.  If you were to look at his face right now you’d see that his cheek is almost completely flat.

Now to why I have a picture of a skull here on this post, the doctor brought in a skull to show us just how thin some of the bones on the face are, and to illustrate where the repair would take place.  For some reason looking at the skull made my hormonal self really want to cry.  I’ve been (just barely) keeping it together these days and I don’t know how many more of these stressful situations I can take.  Maybe the dog was just preparation for the husband.  Ugh.  There’s some risks involved, especially since they have to slice around the eye to work on the cheek, and I know have another thing to worry about while being completely unable to take my usual anxiety medications.  I also seriously miss wine.

After the doctor left the room, I picked up the skull to look at the bones we were discussing and see it all a little closer.  Then I realized, oh my gosh this skull is real.  Like, it was once inside a living person.  And I felt really queasy, but what could I do other than just put it down

So there’s this week’s harrowing story.  As I feel like I’ve already implored all of my twitter and facebook friends, please say a little prayer for Marc’s surgery to go well, right now it is scheduled for Friday.

Photo credit: Nickstone333