Do you know that in Montana even the snow defies logic? It doesn't fall down, it goes sideways due to the 50+ mile per hour winds that usually accompany it. It's mesmerizing to watch it swirl and fly by from inside your window curled up with a cozy blanket and a cup of hot cocoa.
It stinks to drive through it 30 miles one way to pick your TBI husband up from work because his migraines have gotten so bad at 11 PM that you have no choice but to drive in and bring him home safely. But you load up the kids, warn them to silence, turn on the radio, and make a go of it anyway through the horizontal blizzard while praying silently in your head while you sing out loud mindlessly to the tunes that you make it there alive.
I arrived over an hour later to a husband who's speech was slurred and vision was clearly off. His memory was worse than normal and his movements reflected the rest of his state. I was glad I made the choice to drive in and get him - there was no way he could have even gotten himself safely to a hotel in town, much the less survive the drive home.
I took a moment while filling my gas tank to thank God that it happened today instead of the past two days when I was sick with some variety of food-borne illness. I thanked God I'd had the sense to not put the kids to bed on time. I thanked Him for the friend that stayed up chatting with me about baptism outfits for our sons until she couldn't stay up anymore. I thanked Him for kids that were quiet, that McDonald's was still open at 10 minutes to midnight, and knowing that when I got home, this blog and my FOV friends would still be here to hear the words I can't say to anyone else.
While standing there I couldn't figure out why I was so cold...then I realized I'd left the house in such a rush I forgot to put on a shirt...well, that explains it. Took a brief moment to thank God once again for a thick, heavy winter coat that no one would be able to tell that under.
As I drove home the experience varied between treacherous road conditions, a husband that was apologizing profusely for "making me come out in this", and a husband that is scared to death he may not be able to work anymore because of these migraines. My mind was preoccupied with what I had to do when I hit the door - and not just the normal "get everyone to bed". My mind is focused on the phone calls I'd need to make, the emails I'd need to send. Who I need to get on board to help solve the problem? What was the name of that neurologist we saw back in 2009? Where did I put the phone number of the new local VA employment guy that I can't even remember the name of right now?
Tomorrow will hopefully hold a pile of phone calls and possibly a few meetings - if I'm lucky a run to the doc's office and a trip over to the pharmacy. Tonight will hold fear - while he sleeps I will have nightmares of what the next few months will hold.