February 7, 2017 Tuesday
I’ve been the chauffeur as Chris is just not quite up to driving yet. I don’t mind it at all. In fact, I’m happy; it gets me out of the house and we get some time together. Today I was particularly happy to drive (vs him driving) as it was quite icy, after snow, rain, freezing, rinse and repeat the past few days.
We ran our errands and did what we needed to do and on the way back in, I stopped to pick up the mail before proceeding up the long driveway to the house.
I got out, no problem.
Got the mail, no problem.
Returned to the car, no problem.
Attempted to get in the car, however, epic fail.
While lifting up my right leg and putting it in the car, my left foot began to slide under the car. I grasped the door and the steering wheel determined not to hit the ground. I am not exactly sure how this looked to the driver’s passing by on this fairly busy road, but I assure you to me it felt like slower than slow motion and nothing short of a circus act. I pulled on the steering wheel and pushed down on the arm rest to no avail. Down I kept going.
I eventually gave up the arm rest and opted for two hands on the steering wheel, at which point my left leg was completely under the car and my right one was behind the gas peddle. Those who know me well, know the worst things are the more I tend to laugh.
In high school I went on a family trip with a friend on mine and went to pet the mule outside a trading post store. The mule licked my hand. Oh so sweet! Then he ate my hand. The entire hand part of my hand (as opposed to the finger part of my hand) was serving as a dental mold for this mule who would not let go and I all I could do was laugh hysterically. The problem with this is that I cannot speak when this is happening. I can only laugh more, so NO ONE KNOWS I’M IN DISTRESS! My friend’s dad had to bonk the mule on the face several times before he let go. Which is odd because later on I discovered that a mule does not/cannot let go mid bite, but rather must complete the act before it can unhinge.
But I digress.
Anyway, here I am in some sort of inverted yoga scissor pose gone very wrong and laughing with tears running down my face, hardly able to breathe. Chris, my Knight In Shining Armor is on the phone with a work call, not reacting at all to my dire straights. Eventually I give up the fight, let go of the steering wheel and gently eased down to the icy ground to slide out from under the car. I make another attempt and land successfully behind the steering wheel as Chris is hanging up the phone.
Without missing a beat he says, “What’s with the dancing and messing up my phone call?”
We both burst into laughter (another bout of not being able to breathe). Ah, it feels good to laugh again.
This is Chris. The unexpected humor that is uniquely his own and has been MIA since the stroke. One of the things that made me love him was his unique ability to say the most off the wall things to ease tensions and facilitate levity. He hasn’t been that quick on the ball, and sounding more passive aggressive than anything. It’s what has gotten us through some really tough times before and now when we needed it most was absent.
This was the first glimmer of his old self returning. My first real shred of hope that we will be ok. If we can laugh we will be ok. That’s the rule.
Honestly, if you can laugh about it, it isn’t that bad, right? I mean tragedy isn’t funny, so if you can find something funny it must not be tragic. At least that’s our story and we’re sticking to it.