Hanging On

Amusement parks make me feel alive.  I love rides that spin you ‘round, slam you left and right, and turn your whole world upside down giving you different a perspective of familiar things.  I love to scream, but I am very aware and thankful for the bar that holds me in and keeps me safe as I take a deep breath and let go.

It is sweet to see my dad walk into the hospital room each morning and hug my mom, although it isn’t clear who is holding up whom.  His hands are full, his head is spinning and while he has only his heart to give, he is constantly increasing the dose.  He is holding on tight, and I think I saw him trying to sneak a puff of mom’s oxygen.  I’m sure he could use it. 

My support bar, Keith, is miles away, but with Whatsapp and Skype, I feel well belted in.  I miss him, and need him more than these french fries, (although I do wear the catsup quite well).  If we only live once, and I have heard that is the case, I’m hanging on to him.  He is the net under the ledge, and when I go flying off the edge, he goes flying off as well.

Yes, you read that right:  I bought us french fries.  But don’t judge me, transfats are the least of our worries right now.  Our perspective has changed.  Also, when you are wearing a DNR bracelet, you can eat whatever you damn well please.

This has been a week of ups and downs and just hanging on.  Thrilling is not the word I would use, but I sure do want to scream.  As the minutes slowly tick on in this hospital room, life seems to be speeding by.  So we hold on to what matters, and leave trivialities like putting Shout on this catsup stain until tomorrow.

Sometimes it’s okay if the only thing you do today is hang on and breathe.