Monday, May 30, 2016

If God doesn't give us more than we can handle, He must think I'm freaking incredible

Hard week. 

Hard.

Third grand mal on Tuesday, mid-lecture on consciousness and neuroscience. Yeah, that weird. Also, I'm not blaming myself, but I am taking responsibility for the breakthrough event, since I failed to stock my husband's medication tray with his anti-seizure meds after I refilled the prescription two days before. Two missed doses in a day, morning and night, is all it takes to get the electrical storm in his brain sparking. I lectured straight through it, instructing the students what they were seeing, helping them remain calm until the paramedics arrived and my husband flew off toward the ER without me. I'm getting far too good at managing crisis. The social workers at the hospital kept coming back, waiting for me to crack, until they just stopped checking on me because I was the one reassuring them that everything was okay. CT scans show no new damage. He got up and went to therapy the next morning out of defiance. Fighter-boy. That's who I married.

Thursday, while pursuing official volunteer status from the university in order to procure a travel grant for a Criminology conference in New Orleans where a paper co-authored by Mr. PNU was accepted for presentation, we were informed administration at the Pie Tin doesn't approve PhD adjunct volunteers on campus because it's "exploitative." Because the Pie Tin would never exploit its adjunct staff. Rather than lose our opportunities with the Integrated Studies and Philosophy department by giving the names/departments/course titles to the woman questioning us, I waived my hand in front of her face and said, "Jedi mind-trick. We are not the droids you're looking for." And then I wheeled my husband quickly across campus away from the administrative offices. She probably thinks I'm nuts. I'm still trying to figure out how to fix this morass in order to secure our place on campus. I may be a little crazy, but I'm not stupid. It has to be dealt with, and unfortunately, the situation is likely going to give me an opportunity to practice *cough*my ultimate strong point*cough*—diplomacy. 

Saturday, I got a bill for $12K from Social Security, due immediately. The explanation for why this is even a thing is so convoluted, you're just going to have to trust me that one's trials can amount to indomitable absurdity.  

I woke this morning with a headache. 

Our kids were off celebrating the holiday with Ex. No. Awesome and his family at a cabin by a lake, somewhere four hours north-eastish. So Mr. PNU waited patiently while I nursed the throbbing in my head with Diet Coke, a couple Tylenol, and four ibuprofen. Finally, I gave up and threw in the give-a-care towel.

I packed the Kia with a cooler lunch, several drinks, the cane, a urinal, the wheelchair, a couple of extra shirts incase the temperature dipped, and my husband. We drove into Provo Canyon and spent the day in the mountains surrounding the Alpine Loop, sometimes talking, sometimes silent, sometimes accompanied by 80s New Wave. I got out every so often to run up a trail here or there to take a few pictures, and then brought them back to the car to share. We ate our lunch at the Aspen Timpanogos trailhead, and then drove over the summit in search of a connector portion of the Bonneville Shoreline Trail that is purported to be paved. It never turned up, even after asking a forestry employee. (I don't know how she got the job. She'd never heard of the Bonneville Shoreline Trail. How can a Utah forestry worker not know about the Bonneville Shoreline Trail?) We reached the end of the Alpine Loop, at the mouth of American Fork Canyon, and debated our options.

Mr. PNU promised that Cascade Springs boasted paved paths and boardwalks—at least it did when he visited last, twenty years ago. He was certain I would like it, he said. I agreed to give it a shot, and we backtracked several miles to the summit where State Road 92 forks toward the west.

The rest of this story is that I've had the loveliest Memorial Day in memory. We left the dead to themselves, closed the doors on the painful past, and instead, soaked in grace.

Today was a "worth-it" day. One in which, when at the same time I am tried, I am also richly blessed.





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