New Mr. P Update

Mr. P had his doctor's appointment this week.  Oh, how life is bittersweet for Mr. P.  The good news is that doc said he is WAY ahead of the game in healing.  The bad news is another 3 -6 months for Mr. P with his cane.  

The rundown on his injuries are as follows:

Hip - HEALED

Cracked Transverse Process - HEALED

The 2 Severed Transverse Processes - HEALING - almost there

Fibula - Pretty much HEALED (It has fused back together and just has a bit more mending)

Ankle - HEALED

Tibia - UUUGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!

The Tibia is on its way to healing, but there are still gaping holes between the bone segments.  It is just a matter of time for it to all come together.  The funny thing is that the Tibia isn't what Mr. P gripes about (Even though he can only walk about 10 feet before he will fall).  He is ALWAYS complaining about his back.  He is in so much pain in his back.  Doc says that this is due to all the soft tissue and nerve damage back there, and that Mr. P may as well get used to it because he will ALWAYS have some pain for the rest of his life.  Not quite as severe as it is now, but something . . .   Mr. P thinks he is a hero and won't take his painkillers.  Doesn't want to get addicted (Good for him - I don't know though, I think I'd just rather have no pain).  The muscle relaxants seem to help him a little, but make him loopy and he can't have his cocktails with them, so he only takes those when he absolutely has to.  We shall see where it all leads him in the coming months.  

Meanwhile, it is business as usual for Mr. P.  He gets up every day, goes faithfully to his physical therapist and then off to work.  I love my dear hubby, he is persistent if nothing else.  He will not stop his life and trying to live it normally because of a little pain and limp.  We were talking the other day and can you believe that even with the extent of his injuries, he only missed 8 full days of work?  For many months, work was not very productive (or productive at all) but he made the effort to at least show his face in the office.  

As ski season descends upon us, I feel a little bit sorry for him.  He sees the kids going through their gear and talking about which trails will be open on the first trip up and you can see the envy and wistfulness in his eyes.  Mr. P knows he won't be skiing again until next season and is quite troubled by this.  But again, to his credit, Mr. P plans to go up with cherubs EVERY weekend and while they are happily skiing, his plans are to set up a huge tailgating area at the mountain to serve up Rib-eyes, chicken sandwiches and a host of other gourmet delights at lunchtime.  I don't know, maybe even I will join them up North this year, if not just for the food.  

Well, that's it on the Mr. P progression of healing.  And again, I give credit where credit is due.  He is a strong, determined man and continues to improve every day regardless of pain, regardless of setbacks and regardless of timeframes.  Soon I will be blogging about our very first dance!

Happy Anniversary To Me

Today Mr. P and I have been married for 16 years.  Jokingly, I tell everyone "16 years of wedded bliss".  Unfortunately, the word "Bliss" doesn't even come close to describing our life and years together.  

Our dating was far from a courtship.  It was a whirlwind of parties and bars and friends.  I remember early on in our dating asking Mr. P why he never took me out alone, just the 2 of us.  Did he not enjoy spending time with just me.  His response was that really, right now, his friends were just more important, but if that ever changed he'd let me know.  About 1 1/2 years into this lovely courtship, I told him that I loved him.  His response to this was, "Boy, I really love this song".  At the time we were in his pool and listening to the radio.  Can you say, 'Please let me drown now?'  As much as these things make my dear Mr. P sound mean and like a big jerk, you gotta give the guy points for honesty.  I guess that was part of what made me stick it out for a little while longer.  

Fast forward a little and we come to the day he asked me to marry him.  So untrue to Mr. P form, he actually asked my dad if he could marry me before he asked me.  When he did ask me to marry him, it was truly unexpected.  We had talked about marriage before, but he always said, "I will ask you if and when I'm ready, but never before, so don't push me on the subject," and to be quite honest, I don't think that really bothered me, I guess I just felt like I knew that someday it would happen and I didn't need to rush things either.  We were very young and had our whole lives ahead of us.  So, me at age 22 and Mr. P at age 24, on September 12, 1992, we got married.  Of course, coming from the Italian family, it was a grand affair.  (We laugh at the thought that our wonderful hindsight tells us we probably should have taken the monetary equivalent of the cost of the wedding and run).  

16 years later, we are still together.  We are still madly, truly and deeply in love.  Mr. P may not be the sexiest man or even the smartest, but he is by far the truest, nicest and most thoughtful person I have EVER known (as well as the most annoying sometimes).  He is caring and considerate.  He is not a man who sends flowers or gives extravagant gifts on special occasions, but he is the man that always gets me a cup of coffee or water or candy bar at the store when he is running errands, just because.  He is the man that knows my moods (sometimes better than I do) and knows to treat me with kid gloves or harsh words if necessary.  He knows which stupid jokes and actions will still make me laugh and which will just aggravate me and when to actually use them.  He knows my favorite color, food, song, tv show, hobby, place, article of clothing . . . shall I go on?  But most of all, he knows me.  All of me.  The good, the bad, the ugly and the insecure.  He knows most (if not all) of every little secret or embarrassment I have ever had.  He is my life, my world, my one and only.  

Our life and marriage has been many things.  Blissful is definitely not one of them.  We have been through amazing times and dreadful times.  We have laughed, fought and pushed on together.  We have been through the birth of two amazing children together, one of which was a hellish ordeal in and of itself.  

We have been through some pretty scary and earth shattering changes in our life and marriage,  including some pretty intense sicknesses and injuries (the latest of which poor Mr. P is still battling), building his business together from the ground up, financial highs and very low lows, births of friends' and family's children, deaths of friends and family members, and so many other major life events, I would be posting for months to complete the list.  

Anyway, I say Happy Anniversary To Me.  I DID GOOD!  There are many decisions I have made throughout my life that I am not proud of, wished I hadn't made or just hoped things could have gone differently.  Being married to Mr. P is not one of them.  I love him - past, present and for always.  He is my man, my world.  I may have my I hate Mr. P moments, but they are always short-lived, for Mr. P undoubtedly and expectedly can find just the right action, phrase or gesture to make me smile.  And he sure knows how and when to use them.  So, again, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME!   Oh, and you too, Mr. P - I love you.

The Simplest Things

It always amazes me how the simplest things like little actions and words can make such a profound impact on or even change your life and view of things.  This year, I have found that I have become a little more aware of all those little things in my life.  A certain look from someone, a brief sentiment or statement, words read in a book or a kind act from a stranger.  

I don't know if Mr. P's accident triggered some or all of this awareness or if maybe I'm just growing up (NAH!), but I can say most definitively that one VERY BIG life altering statement was - "Perry had an accident".  In and of themselves, those words don't mean too much - did he spill something, break something (not including body parts), have a little fall? . . . but in the mind and emotion of a wife and mother, those four words can bring complete hysteria.  

I guess that going through the last 6 months has been not only life-altering, but a major test of love, commitment and faith between me and Mr. P.  I think of all the things that Mr. P could not do when he first came home from "his accident" and what I did for him without a thought or care.  I remember worrying about our life and if we would actually make it through OK.  Financially, emotionally, physically . . . and wondering what it would be like if we didn't.  

I also thought about our wedding vows - hoping that there was some fine print that made them null and void in a situation like this :), I thought about when we were dating and carefree and how over the years it seemed like more and more responsibilities just kept piling up for us, I thought about how we have grown and changed since that first date, and I thought about how I really, truly don't think that I know any 2 people who could possibly know each other better, inside and out then Mr. P knows me and I know Mr. P and still love each other so madly, deeply, truly.  

I thought about how I would demand payback for all I did to take care of dear hubby and then it hit me.  You see Mr. P has ALWAYS taken care of me.  From our very first date.  From the little stuff to the big.  Cooking for me, always thinking of me in a store or coffee shop and bringing something home he'll know I like, taking care of all the stuff he knows I hate to do, really listening to me when he knows that I am upset.  From the secret looks and phrases to always knowing how to get a smile.  

And, when it truly counted, Mr. P did for me, exactly what I have done for him - he took care of me when I couldn't.  After the birth of our son, when I was very sick and wouldn't let the nurses touch me, when I had a little (or a lot) too much to drink and needed to hug the toilet during the night, when I had the flu or allergies or just a simple cold, when all I needed was a shoulder to lean on, an ear to complain to, or just a hug.  Simply put, there is no payback.  This is our life, for better and for worse.  This is marriage and parenthood and partnership.  

So after some reflection, I guess that the very first, simplest, most life-altering statement I've ever heard was, "Would you like to go out with me?"  And I wouldn't have it any other way!

I love you Mr. P

Too Much Quality Time?

If you read my profile, you all know that I work for my darling hubby, Mr. P.  Usually, I go into work 2 or 3 days a week, do some bookkeeping and all the other things that need to get done that no one else will do and call it a week.  However, since Mr. P's big accident (see May 28 post) we have pretty much been attached at the hip.  

Because of his injuries, Mr. P has a difficult time driving (as well as sitting, sleeping and walking) and that means that added to my titles of wife and co-worker, I have added chauffeur, secretary, maid and personal fetcher of things. 

Mr. P needs to go to physical therapy twice (soon to be three times) a week.  This is usually at 8:30 am (remember, I used to work only 2 or 3 days a week, which meant I could sleep in - OH, NOT ANYMORE!)  So, our usual midweek day goes as follows - Up, showered, pot of coffee and ready to go by 7:00 am - this gives me an hour to coax Mr. P out of bed, get him set up with his lovely shower stool, lay out his clothes, find the fixings for his bandages, gather my belongings and his, pack the car and pull it up to the front door and get him to his physical therapist on time.  

I used to find a comfy chair, bring a good book and call it some quality alone time during his sessions.  Quite recently, his therapist has decided that I don't deserve any alone time and has put me to work.  Apparently, I am now a physical therapy assistant.  My new position of PT Assistant consisted of playing catch with my husband for 20 minutes yesterday while the lovely Julia (his PT) attended to other patients.  This would not be such an onerous task if not for the following 2 things:

1. I spend 24 hours, 7 days a week with the wonderful Mr. P already

2. I was actually getting a paycheck for being a PT Assistant.  

But alas, there is no money to be made by me in this new position.  

No, I actually have the pleasure of PAYING for this privilege.  You know, the good old co-pay for insurance.

After our invigorating 60 minute workout, off to work we go.  While in the car, Mr. P hooks himself up to his Bone Stimulator that I mentioned in my earlier post and it takes just about the right amount of time for it to do its thing on the drive from therapy to the office.  

I need to state here that I have always valued my commute to and from work.  I love the silence and being alone with my thoughts and just the privilege of a small period of time, if only 20 minutes, without husband or children or anyone needing something from me.   But as of January 20, 2008, this pleasurable commute has become but a mere memory.  Mr. chatterbox sings, talks, makes noises, and plays the annoying Punch Buggy Game.  I'm sure if you have children, you know this game.  Arriving at work, bruised and battered (because I ALWAYS lose the punch buggy game) we get Mr. P into his office.  

One good thing about work is that as soon as we get there, our loyal Studio Manager, Toni, takes over for me and I do get a small reprieve from the tenuous job of catering to Mr. P.  The problem  with this is that a lot of the time, by 11:00 am, I have run out of things to do.  This is where surfing the net, shopping, and chatting with co-workers rears its ugly head.  In other words, I waste A LOT of time.  I think about all the things I could and should be doing.  At home, running errands, etc.  Instead, as the glorified babysitter, I sit and wait for the time when Mr. P will run out of steam and need to go home.  For the most part, this is usually by 2:00 pm. Back in the car and home we go.  Another VERY LONG commute as we revert back to the talking, singing, noisemaking and again, the wonderful punch buggy game.  

As Mr. P makes slow progress in his recovery, I am proud to announce that he has resumed the daily task of making supper.  He is an amazing cook and it is somewhat comical to watch him tool around in his wheelchair balancing his supplies on his lap, the armrest and whatever other available surfaces he can find and reach.  Again, the only problem with this scenario is, if he can't reach it, he yells for me.  I have resigned myself to the fact that although I do not have to actually prepare and cook the supper, I still have to be available to perform the duties of "fetcher of things".  Hence, my new official perch on the barstool at the counter awaiting instruction.  

After supper, Mr. P is tired.  After all, it has been a long and grueling day for him, if not productive.  Remember, reconstructed left leg, broken right hip and a broken back.  It is usually about 7:00 pm at this point and if we wait much longer, Mr. P will not be able to navigate his way upstairs to bed.  Once he is settled, back downstairs to do dishes, sweep the floor, finish the laundry and yell out to the kids (wherever they may be) to lock up when they come in for the night.  Back upstairs to FINALLY get some relaxation, I am counting on Mr. P being deep in his blissful sleep by this point. 

As I lay down to settle in for the night I recall the days of independence, solitude and having time for me.  I wonder if there is such a thing as too much quality time for a married couple, but quickly count my blessings, as I could be like many others out there who are truly alone and crave companionship.  Too much quality time?  Definitely so.  Preferable to being always alone and lonely?  Definitely so.  So I look forward to the day when Mr. P is back on his feet - figuratively and literally, but until then I will continue to be the wife, the co-worker, the secretary, the maid, the chauffeur, and the personal fetcher of things.

Life With An Invalid

Today I start to bore any readers with the goings on in my life.  

To give a little background, my husband (Mr. P) and kids (JP & Sam) are avid skiers.  Every winter from Christmas Day until the middle of March they rent a ski house and go up every weekend and school vacation.  Sometimes I go with them, sometimes not - Not a skier AT ALL.

On January 20 (to be exact) of this year, Mr. P had a near fatal accident skiing.  Ironically enough, he was not doing anything crazy.  He was on an intermediate slope, pulling to the side to wait for the kids to catch up.  Apparently, as the story goes, he hit ice and his feet went out from under him - Down he went.  He started to roll and his skis did not release at first.  When all was said and done and he came to a stop, he told his buddy to get the ski patrol.  His exact words were "I broke my leg, I broke my hip, I broke my back."

After the phone call that he broke his leg and was going into surgery, I started my 4 hour trek up north to see him.  After arriving just as he was going into recovery, our drama started.  

Day 1 - Meet Mr. P in recovery and am told that he broke his Tibia AND Fibula in half, also, he shattered his entire left ankle.  All is well though, doctor put in a Titanium Rod and MANY, MANY screws to put it all back together.  "Should be good to go home in about 3 days".

Day 2 - We meet the physical therapist.  Michelle.  She is very sweet and very small.  Mr. P weighs 205 pounds.  I'm thinking, "How is she ever going to get him up and walking?"  Not to worry, Michelle is like SHE-RA.  She can lift anyone.  But, alas, as we get him up and out of bed, he starts complaining that his hip hurts and he can't move.  Uh-oh, get the doctor.

Off we go to X-Ray.  Doc says that the x-rays don't show anything in the hip.  Mr. P insists its broken and can't get out of bed.

Day 3 - Mr. P still can't move.  He is complaining about his back and hip - says it feels like burning knives in his back and his hip keeps popping.  More X-rays.  That night the doctor on call says that she is not sure the hip isn't broken.  She thinks she might see a fracture.  She orders a CT scan to get a better view.  Off Mr. P goes again. 

Day 4 - More bad news.  YUP, the hip is definitely broken.  Good news is that our insurance company has approved his stay for up to another two weeks.  Could that possibly be good news?  Insurance NEVER approves anything.  I'm thinking it must be pretty bad.  

Days 5 through 7 - Mr. P still can't move, but is determined that he is going to go home. Because we live in a Colonial house with MANY stairs, I explain that he can't possibly go home.  He calls his brother (he lives in a ranch house) and tells him to build a ramp into his house.  He's going to live with him for a while.  Isn't this grand?  We are now going to live in different zip codes.  

Day 8 - Against the doctor's better judgement, Mr. P is released.  We load him up with Perkiset and Vicadin and off we go for our 4 hour trek home.  Of course, it is almost blizzard conditions.  

The next few weeks are a blur of anguish and bad news.  The day after we get home, off we go to see Mr. P's orthopedist in Rhode Island.  Yet again, more X-rays.  I'm thinking that Mr. P is now so radioactive, I could probably fry some eggs on his belly.  Doc comes in and tells us that the surgery on his leg looks good, the hip is definitely broken and "By the way, you broke your back too."  WHAT??!  Mr. P's broken back consists of 2 severed transverse processes (the wings on the verterbrae) and 1 cracked one that is now hanging.  Doc says that there is really nothing we can do surgically and hopefully the cracked one will fuse itself back on.  The severed ones are encapsulated in the muscle and aren't going anywhere, so Mr. P's best bet is to just leave them alone.  Well, the good news is that this explains the pain he's complaining about.  Doc says he assumes Mr. P was wearing a helmet, because if he wasn't, he'd be dead.  Thank God for UVEX!!

My poor kids had a tough few months.  From mom and dad being up north for a week to dad not living with us, they were extremely well-behaved.  Their entire month consisted of waking up and eating breakfast, going off to school and then getting picked up to visit dad.  At 10:30 pm, home we'd go to bed just to get up and do it all again tomorrow.  

Mid-February Mr. P decides he wants to come home.  Huh? Home?  Stairs honey - you can't walk.  He decides he doesn't want a ramp and he'll only go up and down the front steps once a day.  OK?  Let's give it a shot.  So, through much blood, sweat and tears Mr. P comes home.  We hook him up with a bed in our family room and he settles in for the long haul.  

Fast forward - It has now been 4 months and 7 days.  Mr. P recently graduated from wheelchair to walker to crutches.  He is doing pretty well.  Back still hurts - A TON - and unfortunately there has been no bone regrowth in his leg yet, but we got this fancy thing called a "Bone Stimulator" that he hooks up to his leg every day and it is supposed to make the bone grow.  Pretty cool.  We'll see how that goes at his next doctor's visit on June 5.  

It has definitely been a long haul and doc says at least 1 full year for him to reach even a semblance of normalcy again. For him, it really stinks because he is an active guy and hates to be still.  With Spring upon us he is very frustrated.  The other day I caught him looking out our window while we were cleaning the yard and he looked so sad.  He so desperately wants to do things and be normal again.  And on the flip side, I want so desperately to go back to being the sedentary partner in this marriage.  

Well, I guess what they say is true, "That which doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger".  I can honestly say that our relationship has to be as strong as they come after 4 months of all that "togetherness".  At least Mr. P will recover and his prognosis is good.  I thank God for that every day.