I know, I’ve been quiet. If you only knew.
It’s been a trying couple of weeks. Not bad. Just trying.
First, a quick health check. My crew is fine. Both Charlie and Lyle got clean bills of health in the same week. Charlie’s exam involved a trip to CHOP to peek at his ears. There had been whispers about new tubes. Thankfully, that’s not going to happen.
Lyle’s exam was his annual check-up at the vet. He’s getting older (12 this year) and is clearly having some aging issues – slow to get up (though not to tear through the garbage, he does that just fine), depth perception difficulties (yes, usually at 4am when he wants to come hang out with us) and some serious panting. Fortunately, after some tests, the vet gave us the “all clear” and said that he’s just getting older. Quite frankly, I’m right there with him.
The extended family isn’t quite so well off. A little over two weeks ago, Chris’ dad went into the hospital with a high fever. We assumed it was his annual catheter-related infection. The following day, he was in ICU with organ failure. He was placed on a vent and dialysis, and sedated. The reports were not good. Needless to say, this caused quite a bit of stress around the Erb household, including with the kids. They adore their Opa. To be honest, so do I. Mr. Erb is just a wonderful guy. I know that a lot of my friends have issues with their inlaws but I can’t complain about mine. Both Mr. and Mrs. Erb have been nothing but gracious and lovely to me since the day that we met – heck, Mr. Erb introduced me to the martini (to paraphrase from Steel Magnolias, “That alone was worth getting married for.”). He likes to play in the dirt, as I do. He’s a straight shooter, which I appreciate (I can’t abide folks who make you figure out what they’re thinking). He doesn’t have the time or patience for nonsense. He and I have an odd connection – Chris always says that folks say you’re supposed to marry your mother and he married his father. I get that.
So, my fears crept up when the news kept getting worse day after day. And then, when Mrs. Erb got teary in front of me – which she’s never done in more than 15 years – my heart caught in my throat.
And suddenly, it was better. As in loads better.
Nearly two weeks after the drama began, after whispers about “next steps”, the news came back that he was coming off the vent. And just like that, the tenor changed from terrifying to hopeful.
Mr. Erb is still in ICU as I write this, but no more vent. He’s only sedated occasionally and can hold conversations with Chris and Mrs. Erb. He recognizes folks and can answer short questions. It is more than encouraging.
Chris will be back at the hospital again today. As he says, it’s actually more important to be there now than before, when he was sedated. Now, he’s awake and confined to bed, so some company helps. I’ll bet. I can only imagine that being stuck in bed is driving Mr. Erb nuts – we once nicknamed him “Houdini” for his attempts to leave the hospital after bypass surgery a few years ago.
Of course, that has all been happening while life is still going on. The kids have still had tee ball games, dance rehearsals and oh yeah, school.
Report card conferences came and went. Amy was very Amy, garnering super grades but not getting Honor Roll because of her behavior. Kate earned Honor Roll and in the Katie-est of ways, could care less.
There was more drama with Charlie than the girls. He is slated to enter kindergarten next year. Only the School District of Philadelphia has other ideas. We received a letter this week that kindergarten is officially to be half day (see efforts to stop this here). Yes, in fall. The amount of notice we’ve been given is generous (yes, insert dripping sarcasm here). Now, I get to scramble to make other arrangements. Most private schools have already closed their applications. Fortunately, Charlie’s preschool offers private kindergarten and I’m reasonably certain that it’s not too late to apply – so his application goes into the post this week. Sigh. I was so looking forward to having all of the kids at one place. One drop off. One pick up. It sounded so heavenly.
On the good side, in the middle of all of this, I ran the Broad Street Run. It’s a 10 mile race. I ran it with about 30,000 other people. And I finished. And I didn’t *just* finish, I rocked it (for me). My time – complete with bathroom break – was 1:35. That’s about 9 and a half minute miles for ten miles. I was so proud of myself, I couldn’t stand it (yes, I wore my finisher medal all day long). This from a girl who, just a couple of years ago, couldn’t run a whole mile. I have since lost 60 pounds and 12 dress sizes. Yep. On the day of the race, I squeezed into my Calvin Klein size 6 dress. I still have my size 18 suit jacket to remind me of my former self. I had actually stopped buying clothes after that jacket because I couldn’t bring myself to buy another size up.
It’s been a bizarre journey. Not just because of the weight loss but because there’s been a bigger transformation. There are lots of changes going on inside, too. I’ve become a different person. Or maybe not different. Maybe the same and I just express it differently.
At any rate, there are some major changes in my life right now. And some of them are apparent – new clothes, smaller boobs (don’t get me started), redder hair, another tattoo.
And some of them are not. But they are just as important. Maybe moreso.
