White-Knuckler

I used to enjoy roller coasters. I don’t ride them anymore. I don’t need to. My life seems to have taken the amusement park equivalent. Did you know that stay-at-home moms don’t receive a paycheck? Did you know that with a bladder infection and a fever, stay-at-home moms still prepare lunch for their young kids, clean the dog poop from the living room carpet, AND, unplug the toilet while nursing a migraine? White-knuckler.

Ushered to the emergency hospital while experiencing various scary visual and auditory sensations that defy logic. That’s a white-knuckler. Finding that there is a medical reason, and accompanying medications, for the trip to emergency. Preceding what will be a lifestyle of seeking knowledge-bound-for-health-and-equilibrium. A white-knuckler.

After passing blood for three days (and no mention to me) my husband slumps to the shower floor. It was later explained that the blood vessels, starved for flowing blood, had to dilate to expand the flow and the rush sent him down. The thump was HUGE and of course very alarming. I opened the shower door, noted the color of his face, and thought he was dead. White-knuckler.

So, that’s just a partial story. I will treat the reader to the details of the hit-and-run (that left me spinning across freeway lanes) some other time. That, too, was a white-knuckler.