Stage 4: Hello, My Name is Overwhelmed

Overwhelmed: verb (used with object)

1.

to overcome completely in mind or feeling: overwhelmed by remorse.

2.

to overpower or overcome, especially with superior forces; destroy; crush: Roman troops were overwhelmed by barbarians.

3.

to cover or bury beneath a mass of something, as floodwaters, debris, or an avalanche; submerge: Lava from erupting Vesuvius overwhelmed the city of Pompeii.

4.

to load, heap, treat, or address with an overpowering or excessive amount of anything: a child overwhelmed with presents; to overwhelm someone with questions.

5.

to overthrow.

Overwhelmed. That’s what people have been telling me that is what I am feeling at the multiple appointments we have been to thus far since Joe was discharged from the hospital, every single nurse, doctor, therapist, and others have used this term to describe my life right now. The third definition is the tense of which they are saying I am overwhelmed, I am being loaded, heaped, and treated by many with excessive amounts of: appointments, questions, names, locations, terms, etc. I politely shake my head yes and move on. Overwhelmed doesn’t quite seem to fit the entirety of what I am feeling. Maybe I should suggest that they add to their list of terms on what I am feeling: anxious, exhausted, lost, and confused: like I have been on a merry-go-round for 48 hours straight. Although the term overwhelmed fits my current situation, it doesn’t encompass the extent of the feelings I am feeling.

Did I think that I would be “overwhelmed” when I got here, of course I did, but did I think it would be to this extent, HELL NO. This experience has put me in a place that I have never been in before. Having to keep track of appointments other than my own, having to push a wheelchair with my man in it that weighs more than I do miles on end, then at the end of the day getting my school work done, cooking dinner, and giving him shots: those things I guess I just didn’t think of during my dream of moving and living in a place with the love of my life. Life sure threw me a hard reality check. When I played house with my sister as a kid, I envisioned a beautiful home with my husband where we lived and loved each other forever and ever. Dreams don’t come true. There are clothes all over the floor, dishes in the sink that I still haven’t done, and the beds aren’t made; yes Joe and I still love each other and will forever and ever of course.

Discharge day was an incredible day; we were finally getting Joe out of the hospital and into the apartment for good. I thought we were going to walk out of the hospital, go back to the apartment and relax. WAY WRONG. We had to meet about 3 different people, get their information, report to his squad leader, get his meds (which took about a half hour wait), and fill out paperwork out the wazoo. Relax, what a silly girl to think that I would ever get a real chance to sit and relax.

Throughout this whole experience people have been telling me “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle”. I don’t know what God was thinking when he threw me this because I have multiple moments during the day where my mind races and tells myself that I can’t do this, there is absolutely no way I can do this. I am a 20-year-old college student who hardly knows how to take care of myself. My “selfish” moments are what I call them. Where my mind races about how this is affecting me, but finally God sneaks his way back into my head and reminds me that this isn’t about me, it’s about Joe. Take care of Joe; that is my purpose here as of now. Who knows what my purpose will be after he his discharged from the hospital, we will just have to wait and see.

I don’t know how many of you have had these moments with a loved one whether that is a your child, spouse, boyfriend/girlfriend, or friend, but when you can look at them and you just know that something isn’t right. They are acting in their normal ways, saying their normal things, but there is something else there that isn’t usually there. I have that connection with Joe. I can look at him, read his face and I knew there was something not right. He wasn’t eating the way he normally does, he was sleeping restlessly and sometimes not at all, and he was oddly quiet. Now, Joe isn’t the type to come out and spill his feelings and thoughts to someone. I knew that something wasn’t right and instead of drilling questions and asking him “what’s wrong” every ten minutes like I really wanted to, I let him do things the way he wanted to. I think that he has a persona that he feels like he has to hold in front of me, which I assume is common amongst most men and didn’t communicate his anxious thoughts with me. Finally, at about 9:30 at night he told me he needed to go to the ER because he felt he was having a panic attack and wanted something to help him sleep. At this ER visit they also informed us that they think that Joe is suffering PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), which is very common amongst people that return from war and/or are wounded.

I have plenty of history with panic attacks. They run in the family and I too have had many ER visits for medicine to help me calm down. What was frustrating to me is that he wasn’t communicating with me, the shock of “take me to the ER now” took me by complete shock, which in turn freaked me out. That is my job here; I came here to be his aide and he is hiding feelings from me. Why is he doing this? Am I upset that he is hiding this feelings and thoughts from me, of course I am. Do I blame him for not sharing some emotions that may seem “unmanly” to me, not at all. All I hope for is that he soon becomes comfortable with telling me these things because it is going to be him and me for the rest of our lives.

One thing that I was very excited about when I was moving down here to live with him was to sleep in the same bed with him again finally. The last time Joe and I slept in the same bed together was in October. Now, I’m not talking about extracurricular bedtime activities in the same bed, but to finally be able to sleep and feel him next to me and not my dog. Then he told me the news; he didn’t want to sleep in the same bed. Automatically, I freaked out. Why doesn’t he want to sleep with me? Does he not like being in the same bed? Then I started thinking about it more and more (I obsessed about it and continue to today) and started to realize that he didn’t kiss me or hug me as much as he used to anymore. He doesn’t call me pet names any more. He hardly tells me he loves me and when I told him that I loved him, I would get a mumble at most as a response. Being heart broken for him over the fact that he is injured and so angry at the world on top of being personally heart broken and scared that I am going to lose him again is an uncomfortable combination. Sometimes I find myself with tears streaming down my cheek and I don’t know if they are tears I’m crying are for myself, him, or both of us.

So far it has been a lonely world here, my only friend and person I really converse with is Joe when he isn’t having one of his moments where he would, rightfully so, just want to be completely alone with his thoughts. I don’t have many friends here on base, but will hopefully meet more as we get more settled here. I wore a hoodie from my high school volleyball team to his appointments one day. The head volleyball coach for the Walter Reed team stopped me and asked if I still played. I said yes and told me to come try it out to see if I would enjoy playing on the team. I haven’t played super competitive volleyball since high school, but played on a city league team in Sitka. I think it will be a good release for me and will give Joe and I a chance to take a little break from each other. We are together all the time, our only alone time is when either of us is taking a pee or showering. Joe thinks I should go for it and agrees that it will be good for me to release the amped up, frustrated, energy I am holding in because I have no where else for it to go. A volleyball will be a great victim. 

At the end of the definition of overwhelmed it states, “ to overthrow”. I hope that eventually I will be able to overthrow my overwhelming feelings. I hope the Joe will overthrow his sad and depressed feelings throughout his rehab. I want to just get rid of them and start to be in a place that is tranquil and peaceful for Joe and I. I hope that these doctors are doing what is right for him and that I will eventually have my Joe, the one that teases me about being short or mixing up my words, the one that kisses me back when I kiss him, the one that pulls me in close in the middle of the night just because I rolled away from him, the one I fell in love with, back.

Stage 4 in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected. 

Stage Three: Strange City, Strange People, Strange Noodles.

“Hillary, when are you coming back?” started the adventure of moving to the east coast. We had originally planned on me living in Sitka for the duration of his rehab to work and make us some money so that when he is discharged completely from the hospital we will have a good financial start. A week later, I got this call from Joe. Everything I had planned was completely turned 360 degrees. My response to him was, “ well hon, when do you want me to come back?” “ Yesterday”, is what he told me. HOLY F***. I told him that I would the best I could and hung up. My mind went racing, what am I going to do with Trigger? What about your car? WHAT ABOUT YOUR JOB? How am I going to manage to pack my whole entire life in the matter of days?  Then after about 20 minutes of my heart pounding out of my chest, I stopped. My mind stopped. I gazed out of my office window and thought of nothing at all. I hit a WALL. For a straight month, my life had been in complete chaos. I forgot what day it was, what month it was; my life consisted of waking up, anxiety pills, trying to get through a work day and actually get something accomplished, and going to bed sometimes as early as 7:45 at night.

 From the time I got home to the time I left again from Maryland, I watched Kung Fu Panda 2 every…. single…. night. Don’t ask me why, but I did. That is where I got the title of this blog. Po, the main character who is a warrior panda, sets out on an adventure to save China and all of Kung Fu because an evil peacock is threating to take it all. Po comes across his father (a goose) and the father tells me to stay home because he is going to “ a strange city, with strange people, and strange noodles.” I feel like Po, the confused panda that has no idea what he is doing, but knows he has to do it. His parent is scared and nervous for him, but he lets his son go out on a big, scary, full of the unknown adventure to do the right thing. I really could relate to that chubby little panda in the movie, so maybe that is why I watched it so much. If that panda can do it, so can I. Granted I’m not saving the world from a evil peacock, but I am going into a world full of strange noodles to do what I need to, the right thing to do.

That weekend, I went into full get sh** done mode. I managed to pack and load up all the boxes I need in the matter of a day. I labeled them and sent them to New Jersey to meet up with Joe’s family where they will soon be reunited with me :) I found a wonderful home for Trigger with two fantastic people that will love him so much, I sold my car, and I was able to keep my job by working remotely on a laptop. Things seemed so chaotic, but in the end it all worked out.

The part that pissed me off the most was waiting for the people who arrange my tickets to do their job. I was supposed to be on my way to Maryland the weekend of the 18^th, but they didn’t get their paperwork done, so I had to wait to the following Tuesday because Monday was President’s Day and nobody would be in their office. When I got the call on Friday the 17^th that I would make it out, I was told, NO PROMISED, that I would be flying out on Tuesday. I told my boss, co-workers, family members and friends that I would be leaving Tuesday.

The weekend passed, Monday passed, and I was ecstatic about my early morning phone call on Tuesday to get my tickets arranged. People over the east coast tend to forget that Alaska if 4 hours behind them, so most of my military calls come between 4 am and 6 am my time. 4 passes, 5 passed, 6 passed, F***!!! So, I decided to call them. “Hello ma’am, my name is Hillary Martin, CPL Joe Mille’s fiancé and I was told on Friday that I would be getting a call this morning to set up my tickets to fly over to Maryland today and I still haven’t gotten a call.” I explained. “uhhhh, ummmm, well, I don’t know what you are talking about Hillary, I have no paperwork of you here.” My jaw hit the floor and I wanted to pick a flight with the girl. After getting a call or text almost every day asking when I’m going to be there and saying, “I will be there Tuesday or Wednesday morning at the latest”, hearing that not only let me down, but would in turn let Joe down. “But the girl on Friday told me that it would all be done TODAY, I have been packed and ready to go for a week to leave today.” I told her. “Well, let me make some phone calls and send out some e-mails and let you know what I find out.”

I get ready for work, even though I told everyone that I wouldn’t be there, and waited for my call. I got to work, explained to everyone what was going on, and started working. Three hours passed and I still did not get my call. NOTE: For those of you that are new to the military as a girlfriend, wife, significant other, etc., get used to HURRYING UP AND WAITING! It sucks huge ones, but you can’t really get them to do things any other way, but their own. So, I took things into my own hands and called her back, “Hi, this is Hillary again, I wanted to know what the status was of my travel.” “Well, Hillary, I called around and talked to some people and no body has seen your orders and I don’t’ know where they are. You might have to wait until THURSDAY”. Again, my jaw hit the floor and I was full or rage. “Well thank you and I will try again tomorrow to see if that changes.”

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! WTF!!!!!!!!!!! JOE WANTS ME THERE NOW AND THEY ARE MESSING UP MY STUFF SO BAD!!!! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO??????

Back to composer. I let my and his family know what is going on and his dad decides to take this into his own hands the next morning. He called multiple people and only got message machines, and then he FINALLY got one gal to answer. He explained my situation. She told him that a majority of the nurse case managers were out of the office at a conference and many wouldn’t be back until later in the week because my information was more than likely just sitting on one of their desks. She told him that she would get things figured out and get the ball rolling.

Our new kitchen

Wednesday in the late morning, I finally got my call and was set to fly out of Sitka that night. My family had signed up to work the basketball game against our biggest rival and were not able to see me off at the airport because we had spent the entire last week thinking that I was leaving that prior weekend. I felt bad because not only had I confused my entire work crew, but also my family which directly affected them seeing me off at the airport, but my grandma, older sister and niece (who were visiting Sitka at the time) came to see me off. I got on the plane and thought to myself “this is really for real happening. I am getting off the rock, I’m going to be living in the continental US, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m going to have to figure it out fast."

I took an unusual route to get here. Usually, to get down south, we fly through Seattle, this time I flew through Anchorage. My route went: Sitka to Anchorage (2 hours), Anchorage to Chicago (5 hours), Chicago to DC (2 hours). LONG A** DAY. I finally got to DC, but had to take a shuttle to get to Walter Reed. What usually takes about a half hour to get to the hospital from the airport took us almost 2 hours because we had to drop off other random people. I finally got to the hospital and waddled my 4 bags up to his room, since nobody told me where I would stay. One person told me that I would be staying in the apartment they would put Joe and I or that I would be staying in a hotel room. I had no clue and I don’t think that they did either.

our new bathroom :)

            After all the stress, hard work, chaos, confusion, and anxiety attacks; seeing him made all those feelings vanish. I was so happy to see him and finally be there. Even though I didn’t have a place to put my stuff, I didn’t care. I was with my honey and I could really care less about anything else, but I did have things I needed to take care of. I went up to the Family Center (SFAC) and asked about my rooming and financial situation (I get paid daily per diem for being Joe’s NMA). That turned into a mess because I couldn’t be in the apartment without Joe being discharged. I was on the wrong orders at the time because you can only be on NMA orders if the soldier is out of the hospital, and they ended up telling me just to come back the following Monday to figure things out because they didn’t even know what was going on. FUN STUFF!

            Luckily they got me a little room to shower and put my bags for the night and I would be able to put my things in the apartment the next day when Joe got on weekend pass. I dropped my luggage off, showered, and rolled out back to Joe.

Hillary and Joseph's new bed

            Joe’s sister, Marissa, and her friend, Rachel came down from Jersey to help Joe move his stuff to and from his hospital room and get everything situated in the new apartment. It was so nice to have a few extra hands to help him out of the hospital room. I am so thankful that they were there to help him because there is no way I would have been able to do everything all on my own.            

             We needed a lot of things from our apartment. Everything was very blah and not very cozy. The girls and I went to Target and went all out. I got kitchen supplies, food, new bedding, and other nice things to make this apartment feel like home. So far, I enjoy our new little abode, its cozy and perfect for the two of us.

            This strange city, with strange people and strange noodles is going to open my eyes to the world of down south and independence. Leaving the rock is something I have always wanted to do, but never had the courage to. I hope that I have what it takes to not only take care of myself on my own, but to take care of the most important person in my life when he needs it the most.

            

Stage 2. Warning: Contains Graphic Material

          I am the first to tell you that the last place I would spend a majority of my day is a hospital. Now, in the circumstances things changed a lot in many ways, so I had to suck it up and take it like a woman. The “way to clean” smell and laboratory lighting made me feel uneasy at first, but I wasn’t there for me, I was there for Joe. Hospitals are not the most G-rated places in the world, so I cannot make my blog for this particular stage G-Rated either. Reality is reality and I am not going to sugar coat it for you all.

One of my best days there: his first day in the wheelchair :)

If half my leg was blown off, my backside was tore up, and my other knee hurt like a royal SOB… the last thing I would care about was being clothed. I would want to be as bare as the day I was born into this world and I wouldn’t care who saw… neither did Joe. For some humor, from now on I will refer to Joe’s penis as Little Joe. Little Joe didn’t care if the nurses saw him, Little Joe didn’t care if his mother saw him, Little Joe wanted to be free d*** it and I don’t blame him. Also Little Joe had a tube in it, which Joe referred to as the “piss tube”. Now the “piss tube” was one part of the plethora of tubes that was connected to various parts of Joe’s body and was also the one that was the biggest pain to deal with during our hours of repositioning to make sure that Joe was comfortable. I am jumping ahead a couple days from my first visit to Walter Reed, but since we are on the topic of Little Joe and the “piss tube”, I want to finish our story on our experiences with the pain of removal and horror of replacement.

About a week into my trip, we got the most excellent news that the “piss tube” was going to be removed. Joe and I were delighted to hear the Little Joe wouldn’t have to deal with being violated by the d*** “piss tube” any longer! The doctor and assistant came in with their “piss tube” removal equipment and both of us looked at him and Joe asked “aren’t you going to numb it up or are you just going to pull it out?” “I’m just going to pull it out”. My jaw HIT THE FLOOR. I (mentally) flipped out on them. “DON’T YOU PEOPLE REALIZE THAT I NEED THAT LATER?! PEOPLE EXPECT ME TO HAVE HIS CHILDREN AND YOU ARE JUST GONNA PULL IT OUT!? YOU ARE GOING TO RUIN BABY MAKING FOR US! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?! “ Joe’s face went emotionless as he mentally prepared for Little Joe to be seriously violated. I watched as they pulled a tube out of Little Joe and managed to not pass out. After about 3 seconds of complete pain, yelling, and a little bit of blood, the piss tube was out J

A sigh of relief came from Joe and I when he had one less tube to deal with… unfortunately for us, the moment of relief lasted about 4 hours. PAIN. WORST PAIN EVER. His body had gotten used to having the “piss tube” in that he couldn’t pee and his bladder was to the point of explosion I swear. So, the “piss tube” team came in to replace it. I though watching it getting taken out was painful… think about Little Joe having to deal with putting it back in. Once again there was no numbing of Little Joe and I (mentally) flipped out on them, “ OH NOW YOU GUYS HAVE REALLY RUINED BABY MAKING FOR US! He will never be able to have sexy-time with me or have babies now that you guys are gonna shove a tube up it.” Watching a tube go up something that isn’t meant to have a tube made my gut go into my throat and Joe about punched the doctor and his assistant while he called them dirty names. I watched as Joe went through complete pain all over again. My crotch hurt with imaginary pain that a tube was being shoved up Little Hillary and once again, almost passed out. Once the team left, Joe had sweat running down his face, I sat on my chair and took deep breaths and tried to recollect on what had just happened to Joe. Relief came across Joe’s face with the removal of about 100 CCs of pee from his bladder… which was followed by a pain of pure disappointment that the dreaded “piss tube” was back into our lives. After a Google search and a text message from his mom, I found out that the baby making parts of Little Joe would not be affected by the removal and replacement of the “piss tube”, THANK GOD. About two days later, when I wasn’t in the room, they went through the removal and replacement procedure all over again. I am glad I didn’t have to see that again because I probably would have really passed out and that wouldn’t be good for me or for Joe.

            Day one in the hospital was a good start and introductory day to what my life was going to consist of for the duration of my time there. After I had got done saying my hello’s, I love you’s, and explaining my days of flying to Joe, I saw that he was lying on about a dozen pillows. “Hey Hillary, can you lift my leg and adjust this pillow for me?” “Uhhh, do you really want me to touch your leg?” was my response. “Ya, just lift it up”. I was completely terrified that I was going to hurt him that when I lifted his leg, I felt like I was handling an egg during an egg toss. “Doesn’t this hurt?” I asked him. His response was, “not if you lift it up slow and don’t squeeze it too hard.” “Ok, I won’t do that.” Well I did, a lot, during my time there. I hurt him; I know I did because he told me I did. I hated knowing that I was hurting him. We spent 75% of our day repositioning the pillows that were keeping Joe comfortable.

            On day one I also learned about phantom pain. My first encounter with phantom pain completely freaked me out. Joe shot up and started rubbing and grabbing the end of his stump (the term stump is for the remaining part of his leg after amputation). I was asking him what was wrong and he responded to me, its the phantom pain. I kept asking what I could do to help and he said to just rub the end of his stump. He explained phantom pain to me like this, “ my brain thinks I still have the rest of my leg, so it sends messages to my foot that it hurts even though it isn’t there. I have to tell my brain that I am moving my non-existent ankle so that it doesn’t hurt as bad even though it doesn’t really help at all.” Basically, his body has to adjust to having the end of his stump be the end of his right leg. Until that point, it will feel like Joe’s nonexistent foot is being rolled up over itself until it reaches his amputation site. It is excruciating. All I could do to help was rub and rub and rub his leg to help his body realize that it has a new end.

He lost a lot of weight since his accident...

            After about 6 hours in his room, reality really set in. It isn’t that it did before hand, but he was sitting right there in front of me, I saw his leg, I saw the wounds in his backside, I saw the cast and brace on his left leg, and I saw the agony of pain in his face. In my mind I was thinking to myself that I would trade places with him in a heartbeat. I don’t need my leg! I sit at a desk and type on a computer for my job, I don’t need a leg. All I need to succeed in my life is my brain and what is in my pants. I WISH it was me in that bed and not him. Is that weird? That I wanted to be in his spot instead of him? Who in their right mind wishes that they could trade places with someone that is in almost constant pain? Well, I guess I am not in my right mind.           

I broke down the next day when I got to my hotel room to shower and change clothes. I cried until my face turned blue and snot was down to my chin. I cried until I had no more tears to cry out. I think I had finally reached the point where my body couldn’t create more tears. Then when I let myself think, I told myself, “You KNEW that this wasn’t going to be easy. You came here to be his rock and you are doing a pretty bad job of that right now. Straighten up, get your head back on your shoulders, clean up your face because you look terrible right now, put your big girl panties on and get back over to Joe because he needs you right now. STOP BEING SELFISH HILLARY.” I took my shower, put my face on, and marched my little butt back to my man.

            When I was in New Jersey, I had my first experience with Battle Dreams. He was jumping, twitching, and mumbling words that I couldn’t make out, but when it was over he rolled over and grabbed me in his huge arms and hugged me while still asleep. The next morning, he remembered that he had a dream and brushed it off like it was no big deal. The dreams he had in Maryland, were totally different. My second night there, at about 2 am I woke up to screaming. “HILLARY! HILLARY! DOCTOR! DOCTOR! DOCTOR! HILLARY!!” He was screaming all while asleep “WAKE UP JOE! COME ON BABE WAKE UP! YOU’RE OK! YOU’RE OK!” I was trying so hard to get him to wake up and get back to reality. When he woke up, engulfed me in his arms and gave me the big kisses that I love. He looked up to me and said, “I love you Hillary. Not many girls would do what you are doing by staying by my side through all this. You have seen a lot and done a lot of things to help me. I love you so much.” My heart melted, he had come back to me from a world of horror in his dream. “I love you to babe and don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” Throughout the weeks I was there he had more dreams and most he didn’t remember the next day.

            Our relationship went to a whole different level while I was there. We got to the stage where we did things for each other that may seem embarrassing to the other. He had multiple wounds to his butt. The explosion had sent him backward and shrapnel had punctured his back side in a lot of different places. The first couple days I was there, the wounds were leaking really bad due to healing and sitting on them for so long. There were pad-type sheets that I would change out every couple hours so that he wasn’t sitting on wetness. “I’m sorry, but can you help me like wipe up my bottom, to try to get the moisture off?” “Hon,” I told him, “, you don’t have to be sorry and yes I can do that for you.” I told him that there were going to be times, like when I start popping out his babies that I was going to need him to do weird things for me and that this is what people do for each other when they really love each other. When your significant other is hurt or ill, you don’t think twice about seeing or doing things that seem “gross” or “disgusting” for the other. I added that to my definition of love while I was down there.

            I may sound like my whole time down there was full of him telling me how WONDERFUL I am ;) but there were times that he wanted to scream his head off at me, especially when I touched his leg too hard or lifted it up too fast. Or when I didn’t turn the TV up loud enough, or grabbed the wrong thing for him, or was plain being annoying (I have that tendency according to Joe). We had a genuine Hillary/Joe moment while I was there, for those of you that had the pleasure of going to high school with Joe and I, you will know exactly what I mean by a Hillary/Joe moment. We are both completely and utter SMARTASSES. There is no nice way to describe us other than SMARTASSES. I went to rub his leg and I rubbed it a little too hard…again. “ Hey uhh Hillary, have you realized that half my leg has been blown off yet?” started the battle of smartass-ness. “Oh really babe? Half you leg is gone? Thank you for reminding me because I forgot about 10 minutes ago… you probably need to remind me again in about 10 minutes cause I will forget again” I replied. “ Can you just think with common sense for once?” he replied. He won.

            Joe has thick skin, literally, you can’t tell if he has veins or not and the nurses couldn’t either. Every day they came in to take some blood for testing and they would test three or four times over because they couldn’t find his vein. So, they decided to place a pick line in his arm. A pick line is like a super long IV that they have to in-patient surgically place into his harm. I didn’t know that before I watched them place it… I dressed in a full gown, a facemask, and gloves and had no idea what I was about to watch happen to my love. They numbed up his arm and they grabbed this 2 foot long piece of what looked like silver fishing line. “What in the world are they going to do with that?” I thought to myself as they then proceeded to start shoving it up his arm. Joe sat there and didn’t quiver once. Beads of sweat began to roll down my face, I felt like I couldn’t breathe cause of the stupid mask, and my legs felt like noodles. Luckily I didn’t’ fall flat on my face because that would plain be embarrassing and would not be helpful to Joe at all. They finished their procedure and Joe didn’t feel a thing at all, thank god.

            After the “piss tube” removal and replacement and the shoving of silver fishing line up his arm life had gotten a bit easier. He had three surgeries the first week I was there, one that was 9 hours long to close up the wounds on his back side and put a plate and screws in his broken femur (the x-ray looked like someone attacked his leg with a nail gun), the second was about 4 hours to do a wash-out of his wounds and last was about 2 hours to do another wash-out. The waiting was the worst part of surgery days, but a plus is that I became very good at Bejeweled and knowing that even through he was getting cut open and having pieces of him pulled back together, he was getting closer to having his wounds and injuries completely healed. Before the last surgery he had while I was there, he was able to get into a wheelchair :) It was the most amazing thing to see him get up and out of the bed that he had been bound in for weeks. We went on little strolls around the floor and went to visit Tharp a couple times. We also went to another part of the hospital so that he could get his hair cut. Being able to get out of his room together made me feel like we owned the world. 

Joe and Rex

He had another surgery before I left, about 7 hours, to fix all four of his damaged ligaments in his left leg and to do a skin graft for his left calf. That was one of the more painful surgeries, he had a massive, leg-length brace on that weighed about a 100 pounds that I could hardly move on my own and knee surgery is not the most pleasant of surgeries. The inner athlete in me quivers with the thought of having a single torn ligament in my knee and he had all four damaged…

            Pain drugs bring the best out in people. I had countless conversations with Joe while he was in a whole different dimension and while he was in a drug-induced sleep. The first went a little like this:

            Joe: “HILLARY! HILLARY!”

            I pop out of bed preparing for another battle dream.

            Hillary: “ Ya honey?”

            Joe: “Didn’t you want to talk?” (I talk a lot, so this seemed reasonable)

            Hillary (puzzled): “Ummm, well sure, what do you want to talk about?”

            Joe: “ No, into the microphone.”

            Hillary (chuckles a little bit): “ Well, sure babe I’ll talk into the microphone, where is it?”

            Joe (looks into space trying to find the non-existent microphone): “Ohhh, well never mind I guess.” (then passes out).

             

This was my FAVORITE of them all; it was the day before I was about to get on the plane to return to Alaska.

            Joe (from a dead sleep): “ WHERE’S MY HELMET?!”

            Nurse that happened to be in the room freaks out.

            Hillary tells the nurse to get out of the room.

            Hillary: “ Honey, why do you need your helmet?”

            Joe: “ I NEED MY HELMET RIGHT HERE” (moves stuff on his table around and taps on the clear space he wants his helmet)

            Hillary: “ Joe, your helmet is on its way, it is still in Afghanistan”

            Joe: “Ok, ok. Hillary, where is your helmet?”

            Hillary: “ Honey, why would I need a helmet? I don’t have one.”

            Joe: “ YOU NEED YOUR HELMET! You’re getting on the helicopter soon.”

            Hillary: “No honey, I don’t need a helmet, I’m not getting on a helicopter.”

            Joe: “ YES Hillary, you told me you were leaving soon and you can’t get on the helicopter without your helmet.”

            Hillary: “Honey, I am getting on a regular plane, not a helicopter.”

            Joe: “You still need your helmet and I need my helmet.”

            I could tell that I was going to get nowhere, so I went with it.

            Hillary: “Ok babe, I will be sure to put my helmet on before I get on the plane and when yours gets here, I will put it right here.”

            Joe: “Ok, good.” He falls back asleep.

I wish I could read a magazine like this...

            We had many more conversations like that. We had one about a device or building he had created to protect the former presidents, another was about how I sucked at basketball and needed to go home to Sitka, and another was between him and an imaginary person (that one freaked me out a little bit, but I was able to tell him that there was only him and I in the room). Although these conversations make me laugh now, they were very scary and confusing when they were happening.

           

            The time was nearing for me to get home and the anxiety of leaving was starting to attack me. I really did not want to go home, I knew that Joe was still going to really need me and I really needed him as well. I arranged my tickets home and spent as much time as I could with him. The morning that I left was harder than the day I left Jersey. I woke up at 3 am and started to arrange the room for Joe so that everything he needed was within reach. We hugged, kissed, and said I love you dozens of times. The nurse came in to take his vitals and give him his meds, which was an indication to me that it was time to go. As I walked out his hospital room, I looked back to see him one last time and even though I promised him that I wouldn’t cry, I did.

Stage Two in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected. 

Stage One. The Call, The Flight, The Warrior

Us in High School

            If you were to ask me three years ago where I would be right now and I would say, “In college far away from Sitka, trying to find love again, and hopefully not fat.” The only thing that remained correct in my prediction is that I didn’t gain the “Freshman Fifteen”. Never did I think that I would return to my hometown to go to school online, work full time, and reunite with my high school sweetheart who joined the Army right after graduation. If you told me that this is actually what would happen three years ago at the age of 18, I would have laughed at you and said “no, that won’t happen to me”. When I got back with Joe during his R&R in October, I knew that he would return to the deserts of Afghanistan for his second half of his deployment to protect us here at home, but NEVER did I expect the 5 am phone call.

            I knew what I was jumping into when I decided to rekindle Joe and I’s relationship, I KNEW that there was a possibility that he wouldn’t come back, I KNEW that there was a possibility that he would get hurt, but what I didn’t do was EXPECT it to happen. Expecting the worst would only make the wait that much harder and who wants the worst to happen? In October, I surprised Joe by flying across the country to New Jersey to see him during his R&R which was the best thing I have ever done with my life. I had spent two years away from him and spent the entire time thinking about him and how much I missed him. I had made HUGE mistakes during those two years, but for the sake of my blog, I will leave those out. The most important thing is that I found my TRUE LOVE again in the midst of complete chaos and war. The week I spent with him was exactly what I wanted it to be; I had finally found where I was supposed to be.

            January 10^th is not only the day I got the dreaded 5 am phone call, but is also my grandmother’s birthday. January 10^th is a day that I will remember my grandmother who I love dearly, but also the day that Joe survived. While Joe was away, my ringtone was set as Mine by Taylor Swift. Most of my 5 am calls were from Joe, due to the 12 ½ hour time difference between Afghanistan and Alaska, my most treasured calls were at dawn. The call I received at 5 am that morning wasn’t from Joe, but rather his sister Marissa (Missa). Seeing her name and not his made me automatically think the worst (just writing about it right now makes my heart remember what it was feeling at that very moment). I truthfully almost didn’t answer, but I did. Her voice explained it all to me, something VERY bad had happened. Her voice was trembling and her words were blending together. All I got from Missa was “something bad has happened”, “he lost half his leg”, and “I love you”. “Stay Strong Missa” is what I responded to her without a tear. What she doesn’t know is that once I hung up the phone, I broke down and cried my heart out. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding. What am I going to do? Am I going to get MY JOE back or a totally different Joe? I wish I was there with him NOW so that I could help him! And finally when I had somewhat gathered myself, I thought, what is the next step? I told myself, “Hillary, this is what you signed up for; you KNEW that this was a possibility, now you have to figure out what the next step is. JOE needs you to be strong right now and tears aren’t going to make his wounds heal or make his leg grow back.” Now, I like to make myself sound like a strong individual, but don’t let my words paint a picture of a rock-hard girl. I had moments where I fell on the floor and cried my eyes out, I had moments where I didn’t know what day it was, I had moments where all I did was stare out my office window at the snow-tipped peaks of Sitka and asked God “why US?” Joe doesn’t like to see me cry, he never has. So, when tears started to flow down my cheeks, I could hear him telling me, “No Tears. No Tears, Hillary.”After my many moments, I figured out that God must have known that he and I were strong enough to handle the toughest of times, God must have known that we love each other with all our hearts and can tackle this hardship that we have unwillingly been thrown into TOGETHER, God knows that we will come out of it even stronger individually and as a couple. I don’t consider myself a religious individual, but in these circumstances, why not talk about Him?

Us in Seaside Height, NJ

            After uncountable phone calls and a dozen different stories on what had happened in Afghanistan, I had gotten the real story on what had happened. While on a patrol, Joe was team-leader for his group. His fellow soldier, Tharp, had knelt down and hit the first IED. Joe ran to his aide and hit the second IED. Joe had multiple wounds on his back side, broken bones in his left foot, all four ligaments in his left knee were torn, he had a deep laceration to his left calf, his right femur was broken in 4 places, and his right leg was amputated 13 cm below his knee. Tharp also lost his right leg. Both warriors were transported to a medical center in Kandahar.

Before this situation, I know that I never really thought about fate, but someone special was looking over my Joe at this point in his life because THE FATES sent him the most amazing surprise. When we were freshman, we had a senior named JR Ancheta to come into our lives; at the time we didn’t know that JR would be our guardian angel. JR was in Kandahar, Afghanistan! OK, LET’S THINK. Sitka is a town of about 7000 people total. Our high school has around 400 people in it. We have 14 miles of road from end to end of our unknown island. Now, I am no mathematical expert, but I would love to know the likelihood of two small town boys meeting up with each other thousands of miles away from home in a war stricken country. Anyways… JR happened to go to the very medical center that Joe was at on that day; he was on a project to photograph the war with a Stryker Brigade from Fairbanks, Alaska. I had talked with JR when I found out that he was in Afghanistan, it was Christmastime, and told him he should try to see Joe while he was over there; he said that it was very UNLIKELY that he would be able to see him. He almost didn’t go in because he didn’t want to see so many people hurt, but he did, something pulled him in. At first, he went to see Tharp and told him he was from Alaska. Tharp’s reaction was “oh, the guy next to me is from Alaska (that being Joe). “ JR Ancheta,” Joe said slowly, “what the f*** are you doing in Afghanistan” (my honey is kind of a funny guy). My guardian angel, JR, took care of Joe for the rest of the day. All Joe wanted from JR before he got on the plane to a different medical center in Germany was to call me because he knew I would be “freaking out” and to “tell his story”. Joe couldn’t remember my phone number, but before he got on the plane, he managed to remember and gave it to JR.

The next morning, I got my call from JR. I broke into even more tears because I was so happy that God had sent JR to my love to care for him when I couldn’t. JR was a little concerned over how much I was crying and gave the phone to his colleague, Cheryl Hatch. Cheryl and I had a wonderful girl –to-girl talk and she gave me an overview of Joe and how he was doing. That girl-to-girl talk gave me so much more hope and gave me peace of mind because I knew that he was in good hands, the hands of good people like JR and Cheryl.

Joe made it to Germany, where THE FATES had sent me more guardian angels, my big cousin Tiffany and her husband Chris. Now, Tiffany and I haven’t been the closest and we grew up in the same state, but pretty far away (Alaska is pretty big…). Chris flies Apaches for the military and they are currently stationed in Germany. Tiffany had contacted me when she found out what happened to Joe and told me that she was a three hour drive away from the medical center where Joe was going and that she and Chris were going to drive up to see him. Again, the likelihood of the series of events that happened blows my mind, but anyways… Joe made it to Germany and he was able to meet my cousin and her husband. He was in the ICU, so they weren’t able to stay long, but they got to see him which gave me more peace of mind that he was ok and in even more good hands, this time in the hands of family even for a short amount of time.

Joe had to stay in Germany a little longer than Tharp because he had started to form blood clots in his lungs and flying wouldn’t be a good idea. In the meantime I was sitting and staring at my cell phone waiting for a call to set up tickets to fly east to see Joe at Walter Reed (the medical center). Minutes…Hours…Days… time could not have gone by slower. Joe was sent state-side and I was still in Alaska. I had many what the f*** moments, but I finally called the travel department to figure out what was going on. Joe had to sign paperwork saying that he wanted me to be by his bedside and until then they couldn’t get my tickets set up. Joe had been asking where I was and couldn’t figure out what was taking me so long to get there. More minutes, hours, and days passed and they finally called me at 5 am (I don’t know why everything happens at 5 am, but oh well). Living on an island has is ups and downs, a major down is trying to leave the d*** thing. Seattle happened to be in a major ice storm that week and the main hub of Alaska travel south is Seattle. So, I didn’t fly out the day they called, but rather the following day. My bags had already been packed a week before and I was ready to get off the rock. The weather is Sitka was gorgeous, but the weather in Ketchikan (a town south of us) was sucky. The storm from Seattle was moving north. I was hoping that we would just bypass Ketchikan and keep heading south, but we landed…and got stuck. Now, I don’t really play the “better safe than sorry game” while travelling, but under these circumstances, I wanted to play that game. I “knew” I was going to miss my connection in Seattle, so I called up Sneed (my travel guy) and had him change my tickets. The “better safe that sorry game” bit me in the butt as soon as I got off the plane in Seattle. The plane I was on… WAS MY CONNECTION (insert sad face here). I ended up staying in Seattle for 4 hours and catching a flight east at 11 pm.

Joe and I in Seaside Heights, NJ

I was smiling, a tear or two rolled down my cheek, and I smelled terrible when I landed in DC. I had been wearing the same clothes for over 24 hours and my makeup and hair looked like Snooki the morning after a hard night of partying, but at that point I didn’t care, all I wanted was to be with Joe. I ran to my baggage claim only to realize that my bags were going not only on a totally different route than I did, but to a totally different airport. So, I filed a report for my lost bag and hopped into the car that was there to pick me up.

The people that picked me up had to bring me to my hotel to check in even though I really didn’t care about checking in because I had no bags or shower equipment. I ran to my room, dropped some of my stuff off and ran back so that they could bring me to the hospital. The gal I was with was trying really hard to do things professionally and the right way, but all I wanted was to find Joe and get rid of her. We got to his floor and I booked it, I don’t know where she went, but I went running to find his room, # 458. AT LAST, I found my love. He was lying in bed and turned his head when I walked in and gave me a little smile. I didn’t look for his injured leg; all I wanted to see was his face. I don’t think I said a single word to him; I just walked to his side and gave him the biggest kiss I could without getting tangled in his plethora of tubes. I looked down and saw what remained of his right leg and told myself, “No Tears. No Tears, Hillary”.

Stage One in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected.