Say A Little Prayer For Cyndee, Please
If this column seems a little disjointed, please excuse me. I’m just not myself today.
Many of you know my wife suffered a serious injury at work last September (her foot was crushed by a 400 lb. power wheelchair) that has drastically changed her life – and our life together – forever. She’s all but permanently handicapped, must walk with a cane and a limp, oftentimes loses her balance and falls, and is in constant agonizing pain.
If I could somehow take her pain away and put it unto myself, I would.
We have had to battle for the last several months for her to get the treatment and therapy that she needed. It has been nothing short of an ugly fight, forcing us to hire an attorney who has worked hard on my wife’s behalf.
Finally, today, thanks to our attorney’s efforts, my wife begins to get the treatment she so desperately needed – and should have received nearly five months ago, had the treatments not been deemed unnecessary by a third party that was more concerned about saving money rather than how much my wife could be helped – and then to have her forced back to work when she was nowhere near healed or recovered.
No one wanted to listen or believe just how bad of shape my wife was in. She was treated like a pariah by people she thought were friends. Some even had the audacity to think she was faking it. Let them spend one hour with her at home; they’ll quickly realize the tears she cries every day due to the pain she’s in are real. There’s no faking or subterfuge, whatsoever.
Or think about all the medicines she has to take every day just to keep the pain in control as best as she can, yet knowing that it never takes the majority of the pain away.
Thankfully, our lawyer fought for my wife and got the treatment she needs. If things go well, she’ll hopefully be a bit closer to leading somewhat more of a “normal” life – if being handicapped can ever be considered normal.
Which leads me to my melancholy feeling today. I’m taking her to the hospital early in the morning where she will first undergo anesthesia and then the procedure – the first of at least six she’ll have to endure over the coming weeks and months.
Needless to say, any time someone is “put under,” you get scared and anxious. My wife is beside herself, fearing that with all the bad luck we’ve had in our lives, especially recently, that this would be the ultimate turn of bad luck. She already has given me instructions on what to do if things go horribly wrong.
I’m trying not to think about that, instead remaining focused on finishing my book (hopefully by Weds.), doing my daily blog for ARD and writing several columns and features for ESPNChicago.com.
But most importantly, thinking about her getting through this and all the subsequent procedures and getting back to living life again, instead of being in a constant state of depression, agonizing pain and a fear that she’ll never get any better.
I’m trying to remain my wife’s strength, her rock of support, but it’s not easy. I’m normally a pretty tough guy, but when it comes to someone you’ve loved for over 31 years, you can’t help but feel the pain and angst they’re going through, as well. She hasn’t seen me cry very often about her condition, but believe me, I have shed many tears.
I want my wife back, dammit!
Deep down inside, I’m trying to remain optimistic and hopeful that I’ll indeed eventually get more of my wife back – perhaps a wife that doesn’t have to cry every day or feel a constant burning sensation in her foot every single minute, hour and day since last September.
I’m hoping everything goes well Monday morning, knowing that we’ll have to repeat the process at least five more times after – with each procedure becoming longer and more complex. And scarier.
Pardon me if I impose upon you. But if you get a free moment or two Monday, please say a prayer for my wife. We’ve endured and gone through so much in the last 10 months, starting with her foot being crushed to my being laid-off by Yahoo, from wiping out all our savings just to save our house, to my being unable to find a new full-time job, that any words to the big racing fan in the sky will be greatly appreciated.
If I don’t write a column for Tuesday and maybe even Wednesday, please understand why. Right now, my mind, body and soul are totally with my wife. I don’t ask for much in this life, just a roof over my head, food for my family, peace and harmony at home and a good job with a decent salary.
But nothing is more important or valuable to me than my Cyndee.
And all the things I want in life pales in comparison to what my wife has to go through on Monday. I want her back to the way she used to be. I want her to stop crying and start enjoying life again. I want her to smile and laugh again, to be able to run down the street with our dogs again, instead of fearing she’s going to once again lose her balance, fall, and hurt herself even more.
I don’t think I’m asking too much. Do you?
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