What's that smell?

Yesterday was a crazy, crazy, crazy, kinda fun in a weird way, yet emotionally draining day for me.

The day started normal enough...

I hit snooze like 1/2 a dozen times and finally dragged myself out of bed and got dressed and got Jon ready to took him to school.  Dropped him off, while dodging the other parents (who are really horrible drivers!!!), and made it to work to sit in my seat for a few minutes before I had to leave to go get Trent and take him to the doctor. 

Got back home, got Ella dressed, got to the doc and she referred us to the specialist and prescribed different meds for Trent along with a medicine for nausea.  Called the specialist and she is able to see him the same day...but really needed to see the X-rays they took in the ER.  Called the hospital and asked to have the X-rays prepared for me to pick up.  Drove to hospital, and got the X-rays...and on my way back to the car I made a little pit stop.  And that's when it happened.

I don't know what it is about the bathroom in general, but it seems like the best place to have a breakdown and well...hospital bathrooms are no exception.  But this wasn't a breakdown because of all the running around or stress and worry.  No...this was a "I am having flashbacks" breakdown.  A year and 2 months ago, I was in the same hospital.  I was 36 or 37 weeks pregnant and had been admitted through the ER for pancreatitus.  After having been in the hospital for several days, I started having severe kidney pain.  They thought I had kidney stones and took me to have an ultrasound.  Turned out I have two ducts leading from my kidney.  One that twists and causes pain and one that works perfectly fine.  Anyway...it was the SMELL of that bathroom (located in the exact same hallway I visited 14+ months prior) that took me back and stopped me dead in my tracks.  I felt panicky.  Scared.  Sick.  Alone.  I remembered vividly the FEELINGS that I had at that time and I just collapsed a little on the inside.

I got back out to the car and had to take a couple seconds to compose myself.  And then I told Trent about what happened.  I don't know if he understood or not...but it was nice to have someone to spill it to right away because otherwise I'd probably still be in the bed today.  I am a pretty emotional gal...but this was just a little too much for me to handle.  I am so thankful Trent was with me at that point.  He said that a lot of soldiers have the same feelings when they come back from war (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).  Well...now I know what it feels like.  Go hug a soldier, RIGHT NOW. 

So, we left there and headed back towards my office so I could finish a report that needed to get out.  Then we went and picked up Jon from school.

After that we finally got to the specialist.  And waited for what seemed like a millennium.  And when she finally called Trent back, my precious angelic children went absolutely INSANE.  I have no idea what happened to them, but I told Trent when we left that I can never ever go back there...and he asked:  "Where they that bad?"  Yes.  They were.  Ok...they weren't destroying anything...they were playing, but it was a small waiting room and it seemed to echo at every sound and my kids laughter and screaming and foot tromping was sending my nerves over the edge!  AAAHHHH!!!!!

Anyway, the specialist gave Trent this gnarly boot like thing to wear.  He can walk with or without crutches now and is already noticing more flexibility in his foot.  I think this is the turning point for him with this injury. He has more mobility while it is healing and I think it is helping with the pain some too. 

So...what about this could possibly make me happy?  It makes me happy that I am alive to tell the tale.  And to be annoyed by my children's untimely, wild, and unbridled joy...  In fact, later that night we "celebrated" with a pizza party at the house and even though I have been a total crab apple since Monday (because it is just how I handle stress)...I am truly, truly thankful.  And happy.