"More importantly, where are YOU?"

Ah, many ways to answer that one. Instantly my brains says that question rings of transference and an attempt to turn attention to something else instead. I will answer it none the less.

I have been busy. My wife is no where ready to take on what would be her normal routine, so many things are now being handled by me besides the extra attention that she needs. She has to wear this knee-to-under-breast body suit/corset to help her abdominal muscles heal. It is crotchless( no fun with it till much, much later) that has hook and eye fasteners up both sides and then zips on top of those. She has to wear it for about another 4 weeks. Under said device is her dressing for the scars across her lower belly and up to her neo bellybutton. These things need to be changed every few hours for her comfort. Luckily her drain tubes are now out and she can shower with my supervision because the higher temps and her lighter breaths causes her to overheat and she gets light headed. Repositioning of pillows in a bed I harldy get to sleep in calls every 30-45 minutes. The caregiver life is draining me.

tune in

Lacking the ability to write at this moment. The distraction of my blog, no longer well, um, distracts me. Too many things take focus in my mind that randomly seem more important when they are recognized.

I have passed thru the electronic windows of my friends' houses and peered in, but didn't stop by to talk. There is one though that I stopped, stared and wonder where she went.

I feel odd, in control yet in servitude. I tend to my wife's every need because of her discomfort. I see her still as beautiful as ever even with drain tubes hanging from her wiating for me to drain. Her scars fade into her to where I do not see them, but only her. I long for the day that I can hold her tightly without hurting her.

Why must I be blind to the simple happiness that I am surrounded by?

Maybe I should shave today.

Maybe we could be figs even.

Mental Noise

Right now I am sitting in a room with windows for one wall. The glass wraps around in a quarter circle allowing you to view the concrete parking lot. It is starting to show what would be daylight, but the clouds and the rain keep darkness around for a little longer. I have been here since 6 A.M. this morning and will be here for about 6-7 hours. I will try to get some work done, but the light conversations and the sounds of the local newscast are distracting but does not ease my thoughts. Today happens to be Friday the 13th. Sort of a gloomy day to think about and the environment I am currently in fits it. The weather reflects this, the local news cast* reflects this, the mood I am in reflects it. The soothing earth tones of the walls and the art work that coordinates with the bronze colored fabric of the furniture does little to calm my feelings.
Yesterday I did carpool. It is no express lane to pick up your children from school, just another form of lemmings. Move 10 feet, then wait, move, wait. You stare with an emptiness at the children waiting for their escape from this place of learning. As I make my way up I barely notice the commotion of a few small children. Oblivious because of I am waiting to get to the spot to load up and drive off. When I finally arrive I see my oldest talking to my youngest, consoling him with his face hidden inside the opening of his Star Wars back pack. I vaguely overhear the principal saying "tell his mom I'll find out tomorrow." My children get in the car and my youngest is crying. It takes several minutes to get him to mumble anything. My oldest say someone hit him, knocked him down and shoving his face into the concrete. I eventually find out that earlier during the day at recess this same child took my youngest shoe and was keeping it from them, eventually giving it back via hitting them in the face with it. I tried calling the school as soon as I found this information out, but no answer. Instead I sit and think of what I should do.
The windowed room is not the principal’s office or even the school. The windows are here to brighten the waiting room at a surgery center. My wife is having an abdominal hernia repaired. It is the second time for this. Her abdominal muscles separated during the birth of child #2 because of the emergency action that was needed during that birth. It was repaired a few months after that, but she has bared two more of our children since then. The muscles need repair again. She will also be getting a belly-button, something that went away from the first surgery many years ago. She was supposed to remove all of her jewelry before coming here, but was unable to remove her wedding band and engagement ring. She says she has gained too much to do so, I said she was perfect. They put surgical tape over her rings. I know that this is not a life endangering procedure, but I still sit and think about her. I sit and think about my children and how I can protect them from what has happened.
It is hard to come up with a solution that doesn't involve me doing something that could make the situation worse. I do not want to set an example that shows me being a bully or threatening. At the same time, I don’t want to leave it all up to the hands of the school. When it comes to the protection of those I love, there is nothing fear. I must control my impulses, react but not over-react.

score

I wonder what will be of my children. Should pretend to be happy forever living a lie? Do I be realistic and show my dis-enchanted feel of the world? What is the correct path to honesty within yourself if you must set an example of what things could be, not how you perceive them?

My own thoughts murder my intentions. My view has an overlay of anger. I can see things that should be overlooked. Each one growing in intensity as I look at the world, only to be the things that blind me.

The searing pain that scars my mind doesn't stop it from thinking. It consumes my logic to try and prove it point to myself.