Well, it never rains but it pours here in the Indiana household.
Yesterday, I got a call from Keith telling me he was in the Emergency Room and that I had better come down because it was very likely that he would be going into surgery for gallstones.
So, wincing, I wiggled my foot into sneakers, tied the laces with one hand- not easy to do- and drove down to the on-post hospital.
I limped up to the front desk, where the receptionist looked a tad surprised that I was not actually admitting myself.
Keith wasn't in his room when I got there; he was getting an ultrasound. When he came in, he was in a wheel chair, wearing a hospital gown and socks, which rung my heart.
When the doctor returned, it turned out that Keith does not have gall stones, so again, no one knows exactly why he is feeling the pain, but at least he didn't have to go into surgery.
The doctor thinks it might be another condition and gave Keith medication to treat the symptoms, but it's really just another shot in the dark.
We came home to a musty house because it hurts too much for me to open windows, take out the trash, vacuum, or wash dishes.
The past couple of days, I've just sort of limped around the house, looking at things and thinking, "Too much pain/effort," and wearily limped on by.
However, last night I was able to wash some dishes, which was great.
Is that not a strange thing to declare? Who knew that a person could actively desire to clean their house?
The open wounds are slowly healing up, but it's taking a while. I didn't just scrape the skin, I shaved it entirely off, and not smoothly.
But it is healing, and I love me some Neosporin. That stuff is great. Our bathroom looks like a ransacked first aid station.
Tomorrow is Family Day. This means that I, solely constituting the family of Keith, will have to show up to experience some Mandatory Military Family Fun.
I will stoicly endure the fun times and then the next day, we have our first meeting with our case worker at the adoption homestudy. We meet with her up in Atlanta.
Hopefully, by that time, I will be able to shake her hand. I met Keith's boss in the parking lot at the hospital and had to ask him to hold my hand gently, which, let's face it, sounds a little strange on the outset.
Apparently, I'm famous, because even he had heard of my accident. I have become "that wife." Lucky Keith.
So, it has gotten rather busy and messy around here, which is good practise, I think, for when we become parents.
