Day 71: Christmas in the Hospital

During this holiday season, I feel the urge to write about Christmas, either the past or the present, but I never feel my words speak the emotions I want to convey.  Yet, as I look over the posts I wrote in advance, they fail to move me this Christmas morn. A Christmas that comes to mind happened fourteen years ago.

In a land faraway, my love celebrated without me and our children.  A conversation took place between us earlier in the deployment with shells going off in the background.  He reassured me they were outgoing rounds, but my fear escalated daily as the elections in Iraq grew nearer. 

Chest pains plagued me beginning in December.  I ignored them. I gathered the kids up and traveled to Libby.  I needed family for the holiday. Christmas Eve, the boys and I attended Christmas Eve Mass.  When we stood, my chest cramped, dizziness overcame me. I realized I had driven my kids knowing something was hurting my body.  I probably needed to see a doctor. As the pain receded, I told myself if it happened again during my time in Libby, I would go to the doctor.  I didn’t want to have a heart attack on the way home, wrecking the pickup and endangering my kids’ lives.

Christmas night, the pains came back around 8:45.  Fear consumed me. I drug my dad out on the porch and told him what was happening.  He called out to Mom that he and I were going on a Christmas drive. She bought it, thank goodness. 

By around 9:15, I entered the Libby hospital.  For the next couple of hours, the doctor and nurses ran quite a few tests on me.  My heart was in perfect health. My diagnosis was panic attacks. I was very relieved, but I was also very embarrassed.  How stupid was that? Panic attacks? Really? He gave me some drug, but I don’t trust doctor’s I don’t know. I waited until I checked in with my doctor back home and he put me on a milder drug that worked wonders.  After the elections with Jerry safe, I went off the meds and was fine the rest of the deployment.

Every Christmas, I think back to that time.  I have to say, that was by far my worst Christmas ever.  However, I learned about myself during that time in my life.  I do have the strength to get through crisis. I learned some of what all wives go through when their husbands are deployed in a war zone.  I am thankful my husband came home to us, and we have celebrated Christmas together every year since.

Merry Christmas to all, but especially to our military and their families.  I am praying for all our soldiers and their families this holiday season. God Bless you all.