Should I dare to ask?

When will it ever end?

Everything seemed to be going just swimmingly and I was ready to wrap up everything. Sunday was to be my last very very very stressful day of the year or so I thought. Maybe I was looking forward to it too much or maybe I was bragging too loudly or something but it all culminated into one huge panic attack on Sunday between the two first holy communions and taking Hubs to the ER.



Let's back up to last Tuesday night when Hubs was telling me his throat was kinda sore. We didn't think too much about it because I had just changed the tubing on his mouthstick so we kinda chalked it up to that and moved on but then Wednesday he had a dry cough. We wondered if I had left soap on the tubing but I was sure I hadn't and washed it out two more times. I gave him some cough drops and we moved on.



By Thursday, he had thick mucus and he could not cough it up. I was worried. He was coughing all night long...no sleep. I gave him some chest decongestant and made him some chicken with rice soup. Friday was a little more of the same but I tried a new medicine on him and it seemed to do the trick he was good by about noon. Then it started again the hacking and wheezing and being up all night.


But then Saturday it was all sunshine and rainbows not a cough or wheeze or nothin. But come night fall there it was again. It causes him spasms and between the two it's up all night.



Well come Sunday, I was freaking out because as the time got closer to church, he was getting worse and worse. In fact at just the time the kids were getting ready to go he threw up and then in the church he was lightheaded to the point of nearly fainting. The whole hour I just wished it would hurry by.



The girls made their First Holy Communions and we were off to the ER.

Of course, by that time Hubs was feeling better. Actually about the time he was feeling better I was starting to get very painful chest pains on my right side. They got worse as we drove to the ER and by the time we got to the ER I was in full panic attack.

I haven't had one like that since, well since before my friend Karlton died almost 10 years ago. I remember it because that's when I found out that Dads don't do the things that my stepfather was doing to me. I hadn't known until my friend Karlton, a father of 4 and a damn good one, told me the limits.

I hate them, my hands and face go numb, everything goes brighter like an overexposed picture or something and my chest. I feel so much pressure.

But God had sent me an angel to be with me. I still have a post that I want to write about this woman and how great she is and how much she has helped us already but I want to save that for a post of it's own.

After the attack finally passed, we went in and they called Hubs back. They did two x-rays and he was clear. He has a little bit of liquid in his right lung but supposedly it's been there since his last x-rays. They gave him a breathing treatment, prescribed him an inhaler and a z-pack.

I thought that meant we would be ok. But yesterday was the worst. For some reason my head hurt so bad and Hubs was having problems and I was just trying to cope. I couldn't find the vaporub and I just gave up. I felt like I had hit bottom. I keep feeling like I'm some kind of joke for God's amusement. I keep asking for help because it's all too much and it's like he's laughing and shoving me forward trying to make me fall and telling me to suck it up.

So I quit. I quit asking for help. I was just thinking whatever, I'll buy more vaporub, I'll do nothing and I did. Sort of. I picked up one of my Joyce Meyer books and I swear it's like that woman is talking directly to me. (Thanks Karlton!)

She was talking about women and how they are stretched too thin and they have high expectations of themselves and they worry too much and they just have to let it go and give it to God.

Last night, I thought I might end up having to call an ambulance for Hubs, he was having catheter issues and he was dripping sweat. He couldn't breathe and his blood pressure was through the roof. I tried everything and I told him we needed to get him out of the chair to check some other things that might be the cause. As I stood over him trying to help him cough out phlegm so he could breathe before I lifted him I looked over at his bed and there on the footrest was the jar of vaporub.

I asked Hubs if the kids had found it and he said no one had been in the room and the door was shut the whole time. This was true because I had their Communion dresses on my bed and I didn't want the cats to get them.

The vaporub just appeared. I took it as a sign to put it on and gooped him up. He stopped coughing and he could breathe. He actually slept last night for the first time since we left for the Adoption. The room is silent right now as I type. He occasionally wheezes or coughs but nothing like the past few days. Maybe I am jumping the gun, maybe we aren't past anything but I still feel somewhat relieved for now.

This morning I asked the kids. They don't even know what vaporub is.

I. did. not. find. it.

I sat the new box next to the old jar and I stared at it. Holding back the tears I thanked God for hearing me and helping me when I thought all was lost and when I gave up. I don't think we are out of the woods yet but I feel a little stronger everytime I see the vaporub.

Thank you