Less Than a Week

Chest tight, heart pounding...I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest and it's hard to breathe.  Tears are very close to the surface and I struggle to keep it together just as much as I struggle to eat my ahi tuna wontons and goat cheese salad.  Keep breathing.  Keep breathing. 

"Take my pulse."  "What?"  "Take my pulse," I say again to my sister the RN.  "I don't have a watch."  "Use your phone," I tell her, "Please, my chest is so tight."  She pulls out her phone and puts her fingers on my wrist (how do nurses always know the right spot to touch, when it'd take me 10 minutes to find my pulse on my wrist?).  I watch the seconds on the stopwatch on her Iphone tick by.  She takes her fingers off my wrist and says, "72."  "That's normal, right?"  "Yes."  Oh. 

But I am not relieved.  I notice my breathing is shallow so I force myself to take slow, even breaths.  I choke down my food and try not to throw up.  My stomach hurts and I just want to curl up in the fetal position and cry.  I know what it is.  I've been here before.

We finish our meals and the waitress brings our bill.  Stinky is asleep in her car seat.  "Let's walk," I say.  I need the physical activity, something to do to occupy my body and my mind.  There's too much energy inside me.  None of it good. 

We walk down the row of shops in the strip mall, head into an Old Navy, and don't see what we are looking for.  We walk back the other way and cross the street to the next row of buildings.  Breathing and walking, breathing and walking. 

It's hard to force my mind away from the fact that in less than a week, at the end of the week, my husband will be leaving for Afghanistan.  It's all I can think about. It consumes my every thought.  And I want to cry, to just have a good bawl, and feel better. 

We go into Famous Footwear.  I joke about needing new shoes as I can't continue to wear my Mary Jane style Crocs as dress shoes as Paul looks for Crocs to wear to and from the showers.  The sand and rocks tear up flip flops and Crocs hold up better he's been told.  I try on a cute pair of pink wedges and another pair of black wedges.  Both on sale and Paul tells me to get them.  I haven't bought new shoes in a very long time and I'm delighted with my purchase.  They'll go well with my nursing tops I joke. 

As we leave the store I realize the crushing pain in my chest is getting lighter.  I can breathe easier.  I have survived another anxiety attack.  And I finally feel relieved.  It's over for now.  We head back to the swagger wagon to continue our day.

Wii Zumba--a lot harder than you'd think

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Pre-deployment

It is hard to believe how fast the last 4 months have gone by and that it is already just about time for Paul to head off to Afghanistan.  We spent our last Saturday together yesterday until he returns from overseas running errands and going out to dinner and icecream (which I did not drop this time, nor did I drop the baby).  Today we went to Bob's Clam Hut in Maine and had to eat outside even though it was a little cold (but not raining) and then on to Yummy's candy store.  As I type this Paul is upstairs packing.  He leaves tomorrow for Ft. Dix and I have really struggled all day not to cry.  It's hard to believe that when Paul found out he was deploying I was 9 months pregnant and now here we are with a 3 1/2 month old.  What a crazy whirlwind we've been on, but our journey has been amazingly blessed so far.  I tried to get lots of videos with Paul and Emma this weekend so she can watch them when he's deployed. 

I know Paul will miss our sparkling conversations such as the ones we had this weekend:


Me (yelling out the mini van window at the women in the car behind us who wouldn't back up to let me fully back out resulting in me having to do a 3 point turn): Thank you! (sarcastically)

Lady: You're welcome.

Me (yelling back): Douchebag!

Paul: I can't believe you just yelled at an old lady.  You should tweet that. 

Me:  People in ME are just as rude as people in Massachusetts.  I thought they'd be nicer for some reason.

On the way home we stopped for gas and there was a giant lobster you could stick your head through for pictures.

Me: I want a picture in that lobster.

Paul: Really?

Me:  Have you just met me?

Paul:  I was hoping you were kidding.

Driving home I pulled a screw driver out of the side of my door.

Me:  Here's a screw driver. 

Paul:  Why do you have that?

Me:  In case I need to stab someone.  Do you think this would be better or a flat head screw driver?

Paul:  For stabbing someone probably that kind.

Me:  Then I'm going to keep it just in case.

Paul:  Why would you need to stab someone?

Me:  You know if someone tries to reach in the car or something. 

Paul:  I'd hope you would just hit the gas.

Me:  You clearly do not spend all day watching Investigation Discovery channel.  A lot of women get abducted from their vehicles.

Paul:  You really think you'd stab someone with a screw driver?

Me:  Oh I would.  I'd stab someone if I needed to. 

I mean who is going to have those conversations with Paul in Afghanistan????  He is going to miss us for sure!