There was one week, though, that I knew as I was living it, it was a doozy.
Thus was born, the hardest week of my life.
It all started Sunday evening. My family was in Anderson checking on Mommom (my dad's mom) because she was doing pretty bad. While they were gone, one of the massive storms that we've had throughout the summer hit.
So. Much. Rain. It was insane.
My mom called me on their way home and asked me to check the backyard and make sure the basement wasn't flooding. It wasn't, so I went back to watching Netflix (because I'm just an extremely productive member of society).
As I sat down, I was overcome with a sharp pain on the right side of my lower back.
OH MY GOODNESS.
I can't even begin to describe this pain to you. I thought I was dying. I just knew there was a little monster inside me, trying to devour me from the inside out and if my family didn't get home soon, they would come home to find the little monster sitting on the la-z-boy in my place.
It was horrible.
They came home, we called the doctor on call, and figured out I probably had kidney stones and was sent to the ER. That's when I was thanking Jesus he sent that storm earlier because there was NO ONE in the waiting room except a very sick little baby who got there literally 30 seconds before we did.
So while the baby was being triaged, I'm sitting there writhing in pain.
Now, the funny thing about pain is it makes your body do weird things.
This pain was no exception.
I started to lose the feeling in my hands but that was the least of my worries. I still feel like I'm dying.
Then I looked down, and noticed my hands looked kinda weird. Ok, really weird.
MY HANDS WERE LOOKING AT ME.
When you look down and your hands are looking right back at you, it's pretty unnerving.
And they were stuck exactly like that. I could not move them.
I don't know if you know this or not, but that's not how hands normally look.
Minor freak out going on. No lie.
Finally I was triaged, told to take deep breaths (which fixed my hands), and put in a room.
Then a very traumatic thing happened. They needed to put an IV in my arm to get some good pain killers in me. I welcomed the meds gladly, but I DON'T do needles.
Here's the way I see it: God made our skin one big pice that sticks together so everything stays in our bodies. Why on earth do you want to puncture something so wonderful God made?! Pretty sure He would agree with me.Needles are a no-no.
At any rate, I didn't fight it because I knew the pay-off would be so great.
I made it through (with lots of tears), the meds kicked in, and I was in la-la land.
They wrote me a prescription for pain meds and sent me on my marry way.
I started throwing up so they gave me a basin to take home (just what I wanted! a souvenir!)
We got home around 1am (I think, I don't really remember. It was late. I was in la-la land) and I crashed on the couch for the night.
I woke up the next day with some pain, but as the day went on, my pain got better and better. Tuesday came and I was starting to do pretty good. Still exhausted but my body was kind of traumatized so that was expected.
Now, here's where the week really got fun.
That weekend we were celebrating Meemee's 80th birthday (my mom's mom). We had 3 of Meem's 4 siblings fly in from all over the country, as well as my moms sister and her husband. Jenny picked our aunt and uncle from the airport and they came to the house.
All of a sudden, I was struck down with pain once again.
Oxycodone to the rescue!
I spent the rest of the day doped up and woke up Thursday morning feeling pretty much the same.
I went to my family doctor to see what we needed to do. My dad's mom was doing pretty bad so he went to go spend the day with her and his brother.
Anyway, I'm still on Thursday and I was going to write up to Sunday. But honestly, I'm tired of writing at this point, so I'll break it down real simple.
Thursday: Mommom died. My mom and I cried our eyes out in the doctors office. In front of my doctor. Us Watson women like to keep it classy.
Friday: Hanging out with my moms aunts and uncle for my other grandma's 80th birthday. So much fun! They are quite a crew who I'm so glad to be related to.
Saturday: the actual 80th birthday party for Meem followed by the visitation for Mommom which I didn't make it to because I was still really sick.
Sunday: Mommom's funeral. I felt pretty horrible all day but survived on fruit gummies and granola bars. Meemee's siblings flew home and the craziness was over.
Meemee's party on Saturday. Isn't she just adorable?!
So that, dear ones, was the hardest week of my life. I'm sharing it with you not for you to pity me, but as encouragement. (Also so you can laugh at how weird my hands looked). That week sucked. I cried more that week than I care to explain.
But life isn't always fun. If life was always fun we'd never have to grow up and learn that things like needles really aren't as bad as they seem in your mind. Now I'm a pro at getting blood drawn or having an IV put in (just ask my mom. I still make her go with me, though). If this had never happened, I would still be living in fear of needles.
From the wise words of my favorite singer/song writer, Ben Rector "Here's the truth, life sucks sometimes. When it hurts so bad that you can't go on, life keeps moving on."
Ben's got a point, you guys. Life keeps going.
It doesn't matter if I feel bad or my grandma died or we're having a super fun party celebrating Meem-- life keeps moving on.
But even with the crap that happened that week, there were rays of sunshine that shined through.
The little victories that gave hope.
Celebrating Meemee and spending time with her and her siblings.
The times when Jesus gave scripture to comfort and encourage me.
The kind gestures from friends.
Even when things suck, God's got you there for a reason. It hurts really bad and you may cry a lot, but it's all part of growing up and learning to trust Him even when it feels like everything is out of control.
The great thing is, now I can look back and laugh at the weird way my hands contorted and crying in front of my doctor and living off of fruit gummies for a week.
I still miss Mommom and want to talk with her about things going on in my life, and grieving her loss is going to take more time than I realized. But now I can look back and laugh at all the wonderful times we shared together and fully enjoy those memories.
So when life feels like a big pile of poop, it's ok. It won't last forever. Jesus is faithful. Life keeps moving on.
Ben's got a point, you guys. Life keeps going.
It doesn't matter if I feel bad or my grandma died or we're having a super fun party celebrating Meem-- life keeps moving on.
But even with the crap that happened that week, there were rays of sunshine that shined through.
The little victories that gave hope.
Celebrating Meemee and spending time with her and her siblings.
The times when Jesus gave scripture to comfort and encourage me.
The kind gestures from friends.
Even when things suck, God's got you there for a reason. It hurts really bad and you may cry a lot, but it's all part of growing up and learning to trust Him even when it feels like everything is out of control.
The great thing is, now I can look back and laugh at the weird way my hands contorted and crying in front of my doctor and living off of fruit gummies for a week.
I still miss Mommom and want to talk with her about things going on in my life, and grieving her loss is going to take more time than I realized. But now I can look back and laugh at all the wonderful times we shared together and fully enjoy those memories.
So when life feels like a big pile of poop, it's ok. It won't last forever. Jesus is faithful. Life keeps moving on.
