When I teach writing I try to encourage my students not to start their writing with a question. If we practiced that technique then I would be looking at hooks like this: Have you ever had a bad dream? Do you know someone that makes a difference? For the struggling writer I accept them, but for those with a stronger skill set I try to encourage them to do more with their opener.
Today I am a struggling writer. Today I will start with a question.
Did you know a heart can break just after it has been put back together? I know. I am there, rather, I am here. Here in the same hospital room with competent nurses and guardian angels. We are here and I will tell you, honestly, I am glad to be here because a few minutes ago when I reached my limit and slumped into a ball on the couch, a loving nurse sat by her bedside stroking her hair and holding her hand. I am a weakling.
Today we are walking through a different kind of nightmare. But even in this horrific dream I can still praise God that she is breathing! Praise God for improved lungs! I will praise you in the storm. Now our storm consists of an ugly word. A word so ugly that reality shows are made centering around the nasty effects of this word.
Today this is my least favorite word. As a matter of fact I loathe this word.
The last leg of this race is detox which means getting all of the narcotics and sedatives used to calm her out of her little body for good. FYI - she was taking a dose large enough for 4 grown men. This is ugly. No mom is ever prepared to go through the storm we've experienced. But no mom is EVER prepared to see the nasty effects of these drugs seeping through the veins of their little one. Withdrawal is a beast made of twitching limbs, rolling eyes, delirium, restlessness, irritability, spasms, irrational cries, and blurred vision. She has been battling these hateful warriors since 9pm last night. She has slept 15 minutes since midnight. She is still fighting this battle.
Since being weaned from the drugs her speech has lost some meaning. Night before last she thought she was part of the movie Soul Surfer, which I had taken her, as well as 40 girls from Dubach, to see on the Friday before she got so sick. The Friday she started running fever. She kept talking about catching the big wave, how she wanted to go back out there. That is so her. It seems crazy now, thinking back to the movie. I sobbed through the entire thing, holding my cherub in my lap, thinking about the mom and how strong she had to be for her daughter, Bethany. I sobbed at Bethany's strength, determination and faith. During the movie Harper said aloud, "When is it going to be happy again?" Oh sweetie, I wish I knew. I am so ready for happy. Now her delusional mind seems to be stuck in the movie with sharks, waves and a brave girl. She is the brave girl. I am trying to be the brave Mama.