Normal

"You look good! Everything back to normal?"

"How are things going? Are you finally getting things back to normal?"

"I bet you are happy to be home and getting things back to normal."

" Well, just take your time and things will get back to normal soon."

Normal. Webster's dictionary defines Normal as 1: perpendicular to a tangent at a point of tangency 2 a: according with, constituting, or not deviating from a norm, rule, or principle b: conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern.

Normal. This has been a word that has been haunting my thoughts ever since I awoke on August 10th. Once upon a time my life way normal. I had normal problems and normal concerns. And despite my Sickle Cell disease, I lived a fairly normal life. But when the events of August 2008 occurred I realized something that most people just don't understand- for me, normal doesn't live here anymore.

"From this point on Michelle, your life and your husband's life will never be the same again. You now have to redefine what normal is for the both of you."

Out of all the hundreds of conversations I had with doctors and nurses and family during my stay in the hospital, it was that one comment above from my social worker, Evonne, that really stood out for me.

What I have gone through physically and mentally is comparable to what a solider in war goes through. After seeing so much blood and violence, after seeing your own hands stained with the death of strangers that you killed in order to survive, after your nostrils have been filled with the scent of death, how can you return home, sit in a cubicle at work and go back to a 'normal' life. The answer is, you can't. And neither can I.

No, I didn't have to fight overseas and kill people for survival. But my body did go to war. It felt betrayed when a part of it's system stopped working. It fought to stay alive. It has fought to relearn how to walk and talk and lift a spoon to feed itself. And now my body and mind fights to figure out what all just happened to me and what the hell it all means.

Trauma changes you- sometimes for better, sometimes for worse.

Now, here I stand having been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder , the same thing many Vietnam vets suffer from and now many of our solders in Iraq are being diagnosed with.

The 'normal' life I had before August 3rd is gone now. It died along with my liver. Now I must pick up the pieces of my old life, try to salvage what I can and -with time, help and healing- fashion a 'new normal' for myself and my family.

So, in response to every one's comments and questions- no, things are not back to normal and they never will be. But each day the pain gets a little less painful and life gets a little bit easier to live with. Just thought you should know.

Going Forward With The Past

Wow, I can't believe how long it has been since the last time I updated the family blog. Ray has been dropping hints to me weekly about updating the blog. Everyone has been kind enough not to put direct pressure on me, but it is easy to tell how much my blog has been missed.

I never realized how many peopel looked forward to what I write. I don't consider much of what I say on these pages to me of much importance. Just a simple update to keep the family informed of our comings and goings.

(I guess I should stop here for a minute and give a little warning: If by some strange reason you were left out of the loop of what happened to me last August, please stop right now and read the following article: http://www.mercurynews.com/peninsula/ci_11427040. Otherwise, none of the stuff I talk about from this point on will make no sense to you.)

Thank you to everyone who followed the day by day drama and left notes of encouragement on the Caring Bridge website. Thank you for the cards, the food, the gas money, the prayers, the babysitting, the hugs, the blood donations, the love, the faith and the patience. A HUGE thanks to my mom, Carol and mama Linda. You have no idea how powerful the prayers of a mother can be!

I also wanted to thank the greatest hero in my life- my husband, Ray. Any boy can buy you flowers and chocolates and say 'I love you', but it takes a real man of faith to stand by his dying wife and have the strength to believe everything will be alright, even when all the facts around him said otherwise. That, my friends, is love.

So, now I will attempt to continue where I left off. Forgive me as I rewind to the past in order to catch up to the present. Wish me luck!