There are moments in our lives that define who we are. This is not something new. All one has to do is look within themselves to find this essential truth. However, it is what we do within those moments that make us who we are. I have often tried to put into words the past four years and have failed miserably. It still amazes me that for one whose words have flowed so freely in the past, it is strange to have found those very words locked behind the dam of the moments of my life. There are times when it is all I can do is remember to breathe and yet, somehow, life continues to move onward while I cling to it with all that I have within me.
My world was irrevocably changed in 2007. The change involved a seizure and a death. Although neither one happened to the same person, the effects on me have been tremendous. I can still think back to that summer and then that Thanksgiving and say with certainty that those were the two moments that have defined my life. There have lots of other moments in between--some good, some bad, some even great--but when I trace back to the time when my life was forever altered, I can tell you that it began in the summer of 2007. Don't get me wrong there have been other life changing moments. The day I met the person that I love with all my life, the day that "yes, I will marry you" was declared, the day that was chosen for the "I'm really going to stick around and make this work with you"--all defining moments. I am a better person for them. I am me because of them. I am complete because of them. I am stronger because of them. But there is just something about 2007 that altered my mentality, my belief system in so many ways.
My youngest daughter had her first seizure in July of 2007. We had just returned from a fourteen-day camping trip in Otter Creek, Utah. We had good times there. We met my aunts and uncles from California and Tennessee. We camped, we swam, we fished, we hiked, and we rode four wheelers. We laughed and we communed. We picked up two puppies there that came home with us, and, even though we didn't know it then--in fact we wouldn't know it until three years later--my youngest child picked up Lyme disease there.
I have often wondered if I knew now about what we would be going through, if I would have changed anything about the trip. Would I refuse to go? I honestly don't know. I would not wish the medical journey that we have been on with our youngest on anyone, but what, if anything, would I have done differently. We were always vigilant. The girls were always sprayed with insect repellent. Every night we checked ourselves for bug bites and ticks. This wasn't our first camping experience. In fact, we had always been avid campers and hikers. I will forever kick myself for missing the bite that brought this disease into our family.
But would I have changed anything? I honestly don't know. It was the last time I saw my uncle from Tennessee. It was also the last trip that we took with my father. My dad and his remaining two brothers got to spend time together, which was rare, as they all lived in such different places. My father was happy there. He loved to fish. He did not always catch anything, but he loved the activity However while he was there, he caught an abundance of fish. He and his brothers would go off to fish and then come back with lots of fish and big grins. I would have taken him back there in a heartbeat, just so he could have that experience again. Little did we know at that time there was a tumor that was growing in his lungs that in the process of removing and recovering from that would take his life and take him away from us.
Around Thanksgiving of 2007, he had surgery to remove the tumor. The surgery was successful, however his recovery was not. Within a couple days of the surgery, he developed double pneumonia and his blood quickly became septic and his body quickly shut down. I held his hand as he was hooked up to wires and monitors and was unconscious. I told him that if he needed to go, I understood and that I would always make sure that my mother was taken care of and then I watched as his life left his body.
The moments after that, much like the first time I watched my daughter have a seizure, have been forever burned into my memory. I started telling myself that if I could just make it to the next second, I could get through and I could bring my family through with me. Little did I know at that time just how often I would need to repeat that phrase or how often I would need to just stop and breathe.
Over the course of time, I need to tell the journey of my daughter's journey with Lyme disease. This is the other parent's point of view. We have discovered over the course of the last two years that one parent tends to become the main caretaker while the other parent has to define new roles within the family dynamic. That has been my journey. What is my role? I am constantly trying to figure out where I fit in? How do I hold the family together in the course of heartache and joy? How do I hold everyone together and myself at the same time?
