Life has changed. I have big news. Horrible news.
Two weeks ago, my husband had an accident. He missed his footing, fell badly and landed on his head. He sustained a critical brain injury and remains unconscious in hospital.
I don’t know what his prognosis is. It is still too soon for the doctors to quantify the nature of his injury. They just tell me the situation is grave.
I don’t know what this will mean for his future.
I don’t know what this will mean for our future.
I don’t know what this will mean for my future.
The situation is so huge, and so unknown, that the only option is to proceed one day at a time.
I miss my Honey Bunny
Yes, we may be in our late fifties but we call ourselves soppy names like Honey Bunny.
And my Honey Bunny isn’t home at the moment. Maybe one day, he will be able to walk through the door of our house again, after a long period of rehab.
Or maybe he won’t.
Who knows.
I don’t know what this will mean for my writing
This is the first time I have sat down and written since his accident. I had taken a short break because we had been away on vacation. We had a lovely vacation in Cornwall. I’m so glad we had this wonderful quality time together. Happy memories of a beautiful holiday at the beach.
Since the accident I’ve been reeling, trying to stabilise my energy levels and visiting him when I can. He is in a specialist hospital in London and we live an hour on the train from there.
I don’t know where this leaves Gentle Creative. I love writing newsletters to you. But I will be proceeding gently.
Maybe I’ll write about writing. Maybe I’ll tell you what’s happening in our lives at any given time. Maybe I’ll go quiet.
More unknowns.
Here’s some things I do know
I know that we are surrounded by love. And prayer. And support.
Everybody in our lives are being amazing in their care for us. I am so well looked after.
Friends have rallied. They have sat with me as I cry. They have changed the sheets on my bed when I was too tired to do it myself. They give me a lift to the local station when I get the train into London to visit him.
They listen to me as I ponder our options and try and make sense of everything. They offer me guidance on how to pray to support Graham. They send me beautiful text messages just to say they are thinking of us. They even toasted us at a 60th birthday party which I wasn’t able to attend.
And so much more.
On the day after it happened, my best friend said that she wished we could heal him with love. And we are doing just that. The doctors and the medical staff are using their clinical skills to care for him. And the rest of us will heal him with love and prayer.
There are blessings
When I knelt next to Graham’s bleeding body, as we waited for the ambulance, my initial thoughts were how was I going to cope? I have chronic fatigue. Since getting ill, I have dreaded the thought of a family emergency as I can’t offer as much practical support and do as much.
How will I cope with this, I wailed. How can I support him when I have been so diminished in my own capabilities?
But here’s the f*cked up upside.
My fatigues means I know all about self-care. This is so crucial now as, despite the fact he needs so much attention, I must look after myself. My body will crash if I don’t.
Because of the therapy I was already undertaking, I have the tools to cope with this. I know how to manage my energy. I am comfortable saying No to things I can’t do. I already have the right therapeutic support in place.
I wouldn’t have this without my fatigue.
My body would have probably crashed anyway with the trauma of everything I witnessed and the endless hours in hospital.
And I would have panicked. And tried to do too much. And burnt myself out. And made myself a whole lot worse. And I wouldn’t have known how to cope.
Instead, I am surprisingly calm – most of the time.
My novel might be on hiatus at the moment. But these experiences will be in it. My character suffers a major trauma with her loved one.
Now I know how she wails like an animal. I know how her heart aches. I know about what goes through her head in the early hours when she can’t sleep.
One day I will return to this project, with so much more knowing.
There isn’t any more I can say now.
I hope to be back in your inboxes soon. With what, I don’t know.
Tell your loved ones what they mean to you. Give your friends a hug.
Plodding gently.
Cali x
Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash
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Cali. I'm so sorry to read about this. I never imagined life could be as challenging as it is. Sending love. Hal