The Stories We Don't Tell

Everywhere I look there is an excuse not to write.

Countless books to read or rooms to straighten or times my children need me.

I've been a little stuck and the real truth is I'm not sure I can finish so I just never start. There's this idea kicking around inside my brain and writing about anything else feels untrue and forced. While my last post, which was some time ago, was about moving on, I also feel the need to revisit my memories in the hospital and share them.

I hesitate, more like stall for months, to do this for a couple of reasons. I don't want to be perceived as dramatic, morbid or attention seeking. I've tried my hardest to bat this idea away.  I've filled pages of my journal of what I experienced and that helped tremendously with moving on. I've tried to yet I still can't help but wonder who else could benefit from hearing a patients perspective. I think about healthcare workers and families undergoing tragedy, people on the outside wanting to help but not sure how to. I think about those who are support people for the chronically ill or elderly and spend their days running back and forth to the hospital or nursing home. I wonder about people who are blissfully unaware of situations like these who may be curious and fearful. I've fed myself the line that not all stories need to be told and some details are better left unsaid.

But I've often wondered what happens to our stories if they aren't told.

This brings me to my second hesitation. I don't want to dredge up sadness for close family members and friends who are doing well to leave the events of our experience in the past. In our household, we have come to end of using the phrase "when you were the hospital..." I feel very fortunate to have went through those events with a tribe of amazing people around me. It has brought us closer together making us appreciate each other and life in general so much more. I would never intentionally want to bring them an ounce of pain. To those people I very gently say: you have express permission not to read. I will still feel supported by you if you chose not to relive this story through my words. I've tried weighing out the importance of sharing our stories and being vulnerable with preserving and protecting loved ones feelings and privacy...and it's a tie. I'm just not wise enough to decide so I'll try my hardest to be discreet and genuine at the same time. My hope is you will not find it insensitive.

So without further ado, here is the first part of my mini memoir:


CVICU


If you want a refresher or haven't followed my story from the beginning this post written while I was still in rehab may be a better starting place.

Day 73 and Counting


Thank you for going on this journey with me. I can't begin to tell you what it means to me. I may have said it a million times over but its worth saying again: my people are what got me through this insanely difficult time. God's grace has never manifested itself in so many different ways. If you're here, taking the time to read and understand this, that includes you.