April 17th, 2012

Quiet - that is where I am sitting right now.  Frank is still sleep, I think all of his additional self-imposed rehab is catching up with him.  The house is still with the kids at school, the dogs are looking out the front window at the world, and I am sitting on the couch, laptop in hand, finishing up my morning hot chocolate.  My iPod is on, not sure I will leave it on, it is almost too much of a distraction right now, but there is some fear on where my thoughts would take me if I allowed the silence all of the way in.

I have been taking stock in the level of commitment that Frank shows to his recovery each day.  There is no break, no slacking off, no reduction or pause  in his drive.  I have stated multiple times that his drive will not be what holds him back from success.  He has one goal each day and that is to do better than the day before, by whatever measuring stick he is using for a task.  It is incredible to watch, and at times, painful, because I glimpse my husband in there, struggling to come out - and he just cannot quite break through, and he knows it - and so do I.

Frank talks about the fogginess that covers him, like a haze, and he asks every few days how long it will take to go away.  I make the presumption that it is his brain continuing to come out of the coma, but it could also be caused by his meds, which he has to stay on right now.  I wonder if it is impeding his progress - but we won't know now, since he must stay on them until we are sure he has passed through some of the harder stages of coma recovery.

Days continue to slip by us, heading toward summer so quickly.  I feel adrift, without purpose, even though each day is busy and filled with goals and tasks that must be completed.  I am floundering to find my place in the world - life that was so focused is still not clear for me, and I am looking for direction.  I asked God last night for strength, and for clarity, which I know I will get when I need it.  I am thankful for my steadfast belief that I will never be given more than I can handle, and that my path will be given to me when I need it.  But the imperfection of fear, and worry about the future still lingers.  I still have a family to support, and a husband to believe in, and children to raise.  Trust comes with a price, and that price is patience.  I have to work at patience, it is not something I have an abundance of when it comes to focus and direction.

I worry for Frank as well - we have never spent this much time together in our marriage - I think few spouses do - most of us go to work, kids events, etc, and have some time apart each day.  Frank and I are together continuously, and I worry that he will start to feel isolated.  His work life and gym life were his main areas of guy time, and with both not available without me being there, it concerns me that he will start to feel like he has no friends.  I know that is not true, but it keeps coming back to me.  It must be hard to rely on me all the time, and also feel fear when I am not there to help bridge some of his communication and memory issues.  What a hard place for him to be knowing what a proud independent person he is.  It makes me sad.

I am thankful that Frank is still with me, and thankful we have the opportunity to continue our life together.  Our purpose together will be given to us when we need it.

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