He was a slacker and I was in junior management. He wore khaki shorts to work with a t-shirt that said ‘Hate Me’ across the front and wouldn’t stop spinning around in his chair; I would not be seen without full makeup, heals and business-casual appropriate attire. I wanted a promotion and he wanted to hang out in the cafeteria eating sausage wraps. I said things like “I would like to hear more empathy on your calls with customers, and you’ll need to personalize each call by saying your customers’ name at least 3 times before you deliver a professional closing” to which he would whip off his headset and reply “did you just say that you think I’m totally hot?”.

Eventually, he was handed a management position and was sharing a desk with me. One day, I was explaining to him the importance of always saving his emails in a special folder and making triplicate copies of every written form that his direct reports had signed, and he was busily hitting DELETE DELETE DELETE on his inbox and saying “Yeah! Uh-huh! Yes!! Oh! Mm-hmm!”. I had gotten quite used to this. I reminded him that it was almost time for the management meeting in which we would share the cookies we were all required to make the night before at which time he immediately grabbed his plate of cookies and ran. I had gotten pretty used to this too but was in no mood to be defeated again. I grabbed my plate of cookies, tucked them under my arm and headed for the other door at a sprint.

Now, the building we worked in housed about 1500 employees – all of which were now slowly standing up one by one, trying to find out who was blowing by their cubicles, screaming maniacal phrases including “NOT THIS TIME!! YOU WILL NOT WIN THIS TIME DAMMIT!!” and “DID YOU JUST LOOK AT MY PACKAGE??”.

Although he’ll probably tell you differently (he’ll be lying), I won. But most importantly, it was one of the many moments that made it glaringly apparent to me that I couldn’t spend one minute of my life without this man.

We got married two years after we met, and tomorrow will be our two year anniversary. Sometimes its hard to believe it’s already been two years, and then sometimes its hard to think that he hasn’t been by my side for my whole life, cheering me on and pulling me through, like he does now.

Who knew that the same guy that insisted on teaching  me, loudly, how to properly dance the Sharks vs. Jets fight scene from West Side Story in front of our entire department, would be the same guy that taught me the meaning of beauty and grace. Who knew this was the man that would give me every single thing I ever wanted or needed – and then more? Who knew he’d be my every single thing? Who knew that?

I love you, Mr. Darley. Forever and ever, Amen. Thank you for every single minute. They’ve been perfect, scary, wonderful, terrible, awesome, beautiful, exhilarating, exciting, powerful, and amazing – and I’m greatful for each of them, and for all of the ones to come.

Click here to celebrate with Maggie and all the survivors who have finally found their voices.

It was Don that called me that morning – JDs boss. All of JDs co-workers started calling in late and when one finally said to Don that she was late because she was stuck behind a wreck – it all clicked. JD was late and not answering his phone and that was just not like him.. if someone was in a wreck on the road to his work, it was probably him. Don sent one of them to find out what the car looked like that was involved in the accident and get back to him, but she called him back and said the officer on-site wouldn’t let her near it. He told her only that this was ‘not yet classified as a fatality accident’ and that the driver of the car involved was being taken to Brackenridge. Don left work to see for himself and that’s when he called me.

The hospital social worker that called met me at the front desk and again told me to stay calm and to breathe. She just kept saying that JDs injuries were ‘very serious but not life-threatening’ (a phrase that became increasingly confusing each time I heard it) but that we couldn’t see him until they were done stitching up his head.. she put us in a room to wait and said that she would come in soon and explain his ‘very serious’ injuries.

Eventually, she came back and blurted out a whole bunch of information that sounded like a big math problem: a clean break in C2 along with several small fractures in the same bone; fractures in T5 and T8; with most of the ribs on his right side broken and a head wound that required 21 stitches. I felt major panic that none of this would ever make sense and that I was going to miss something important because my brain was going a million miles a second and I didn’t know what any of that meant. The diagnosis in layman’s terms is that he broke his neck, back and ribs and cut his head open. There were several times that I thought I wished she had said it that way, but its probably a good thing she didn’t – I still can’t say that all out loud without getting a lump in my throat.

JD was in the hospital for 10 days – they initially put him in a TLSO brace and said he would stay in it anytime he was sitting up or standing; anytime he was laying down, I could take it off of him and he could wear a neck brace.

At JDs 2 week appointment, the doctor had ordered another set of xrays, and immediately sent him to get a CT scan. He called the next morning and said that he was referring him to a spine specialist because the break had shifted in such a way that he wanted more assistance from an expert.. within a few hours he had an appointment to meet with a neurosurgeon the next morning to be fitted for a halo brace in order to take away all mobility from his neck.

JD has been in the halo now for 2 weeks and has been told to expect to keep in on for 2-3 months. It is big, bulky, awkward and painful at times, but will keep his spinal column safe and the bone immobile for long enough to hopefully fuse it back together. It’s a wait-and-see game for now, but we do have a great neurosurgeon and a bigger-than-we-knew support system, and things certainly could be worse.

He’s my hero. He’s the strongest and bravest person I know. He has been the brightest spot in my life since the day I met him and this has only made him brighter.

Thank you all for your prayers and well-wishes and love. I had no idea so many people could come out of nowhere with exactly the right words that we needed, exactly when we needed them.

Just like every other morning, JD kissed me goodbye while I was half asleep and reminded me of such-and-such that had to get done/paid/resolved that day and I murmured a half-hearted “mmhmm-I know-mmkay-loveyoutoobye”. I got up, got the kids off to their respective bus stops, and was making coffee when my phone rang.

“JD’S BEEN IN AN ACCIDENT-YOU HAVE TO GO TO BRACKENRIDGE NOW”. My first thought was not, I guess, what one would expect, but instead “What an asshole. What an awful thing to say to someone”. I almost hung up. “ARE YOU THERE? HE’S BEEN IN AN ACCIDENT AND THEY ARE TAKING HIM TO BRACKENRIDGE. YOU HAVE TO GET THERE NOW. I’LL BE THERE WHEN YOU GET THERE. GO NOW.”

“Is he ok? What? What accident? Is he ok??” .. “UM. I JUST KNOW THAT HE’S STILL ALIVE”.

Everything goes a little fuzzy after that. I know that I hit my knees. I know that I prayed and begged and pleaded and bargained with God in a way I never have before. I know that it did occur to me that people don’t go from Manor, Texas all the way to the Trauma Center at Brackenridge Hospital in downtown Austin, bypassing several hospitals along the way, unless there is a major problem. I know that for some reason, I felt selfish -but didn’t care- when all I could say out loud, over and over was “Please God Please please don’t take him from me – please don’t take him from me please”. I was in Jack’s room, looking for socks for his feet when I realized I had no idea how to ‘get to Brackenridge’ and called my mother – and that’s when I realized that I was sobbing. I don’t know what I said to my mom when she answered, or what she said back to me, but when I knew she was on her way, I know that I sat down on Jacks floor and concentrated on breathing and praying and counting his socks over and over.. for some reason, I remember that I simply couldn’t make sense of them.

At some point before mom got to me, the social worker from the hospital called and said “Mrs. Darley, I need you to breathe – in your nose and out your mouth. I’m with your husband and I’m going to tell you about his condition, but I need you to stay with me”. Again, my first thought was “what an awful thing to say to someone” but I did what I was told and forced air into the phone so she would just say something. She said his injuries were very serious but not life threatening, that I needed to concentrate on getting there safely, and that he was able to tell her three things: my name, my cell phone number, and that I was pregnant and going be terrified. He had also told her to tell me to “please be calm”.

One hundred years later, the social worker stepped into the family waiting room they had put us in and said, again, that while his injuries were not life threatening, they were very serious. As she listed his injuries in doctor-speak, I struggled to follow the meaning – I just wanted her to say “and he’s going to be just fine” but she didn’t. I zeroed in on her words just long enough to hear her say that I would be allowed in to see him as soon as they finished something-rather. It wasn’t until days later that I realized “broken neck” and “broken back” would become parts of our regular vocabulary.

There are weird things that stamp themselves on your heart during surreal experiences like these. The site of JD’s boss, who was the one that called me, wiping tears from his eyes as quick as he could before he thought I saw him. The site of his dad, looking down at the threshold at the doors of the ER – pausing to take deep breath and then holding it as he  stepped through. And when they let me in to see him, as broken and hurting as he was, it was the site of tiny droplets of blood hanging on to his eyelashes that I can’t let go of. I can’t put logic on that part. I don’t know why that vision still makes my heart cave in. I know that there have been several times over the last 10 days though, that I have run a finger over his lashes and thanked God with every inch of my soul for letting me keep them.

He is, eventually, “going to be just fine”. He has more broken bones than we’ve been able to count, has more bruises than one body should have to hold, and is carrying around a body brace that no-one should be subjected to – but he, after all, is alive – and that’s what counts right now.

Um. I forgot I had a blog. It’ll never happen again. So ANYWAY.

Here, I’ll catch you up:

• There was Halloween.

Bella & Veronica/Zombie Cheerleader & Cheeta Cat

Trevor & Billy/The Hobos

Jack/The Baby in Halloween Jammies

• And then everyone in the house got disgustingly sick.

But Jack was the only one nice enough to let me take pictures of that part.

• Then I got to go on a date with my husband, which happens like, once a year. Dinner and then to see Blue October play at Stubbs.. with NO KIDS which happens like, never.

We were sort of excited.

My handsome husband.

Fun was had by all *SQUEAL*

• Then Jack turned one.

He's very good at cake.

Very very good.

• We had Thanksgiving.. in which I did not have to cook anything because that’s how awesome my husband is.

Notice how you cannot see me anywhere near the food?

• And then we found out we are expecting kid #6. Yes, 6.     I’ll keep you updated on this one, I swear.

So now you know where the heck I’ve been. Where the heck have you been?

The results came back on Monday and SURPRISE! The ultrasound tech never even looked at or clicked a picture of anything on the left side.

They said the concern in the right side was a 5mm nodule in a lymph node with non-cancerous characteristics and ‘nothing to be concerned about’ unless it changes. I’m not sure what that means – I have would have no way of knowing if it changes since I never knew it was there to begin with..

Tomorrow morning at 9:30, I’ll start the whole thing over again at a different facility so as not to run into the same pleasant ultrasound tech as last time.. and my boobs have never been happier. No really.

Me, patiently waiting for my mammogram.

Because I found a lump in my left breast: the left one.

The first thing I learned was that although they schedule you for an ultrasound, you aren’t getting one unless something is wrong.

“I have an appointment at 10 for a bilateral mammogram and an ultrasound.”

“Ok – I please fill this out. So you know, they will most likely only perform the mammogram; we only schedule you for an ultrasound if we see something concerning. We just make sure you have enough time allotted in case something is wrong”.

**Note to front desk girl: please refrain from using “in case something is wrong” when speaking with women checking in for their mammogram.**

The squish-your-boobs-machine wasn’t horrible. I prayed a lot. I thought about how much worse being engorged with gallons a milk felt. I thanked God for having a very nice tech who obviously knows how intimidating the squish-your-boobs-machine can be. I babbled. I told her all about how J.D. took me to a prom and got me a tattoo for my 30th birthday because I didn’t want to feel old. I bit my cheek to shut myself up.

Eventually, the tech left the room, came back, left the room again, and came back.

“We are going to try again to get that lump in another picture, and the radiologist just wants a few more shots of that right side.”

“Left. It’s on the left. The lump is right here – on the left side.”

“No, the right. He just wants some shots of the right.”

“oh. ok.”

So I did as I was told, discovered something called ‘the cleavage hold’ that would have been a really popular bar trick back in the day, and posed for a few more shots of boob #2.

I could have worn tube socks home.

“Just go ahead and stay right here – I’ll either come back in to take more pictures or I’ll come back in to take you to an ultrasound. He’ll more than likely ask for the ultrasound – its very difficult to get that lump in a picture, and he’ll want to take a closer look at that right side.”

“lef.. ultrasound?”

“Hm?”

“nothing.” (something is wrong, then, right? That’s what he girl said, right?)

So she left and came back and said “yes, we’re going to go ahead and take you over to ultrasound. How do you feel about sitting in a waiting room with men while you’re wearing the gown? Do you want a more private place to wait?”

“No. Hey, so, is this the part where you tell me not to jump to conclusions or worry?”

And then she did the honest smile. The one that you carefully practice that specifically means nothing, so that later, if something is wrong, the person on the receiving end doesn’t feel like you lied to them.

I sat in the waiting room listening to a woman talk to another woman about her bone scan, and a man talk to his kids on his cell phone. “We’ll be home as fast as we can – me and mom are taking care of something and then we’ll go out and have junk food”. The tech came and moved me to the ultrasound waiting room where I listened to a nurse talk about her daughters’ birthday party and watched Dora The Explorer on the the T.V.

Ultrasound tech: HI ARE YOU SHERRI? HOWAREYOU I’LL BE DOING YOUR ULTRASOUNDFOLLOWME.

I already didn’t like her.

“So you have one lump on your left that you can feel and an area on the right, right? We’ll be just looking at the right side. An area is all. Ok? Uh HUH! OK.”

She spent a few seconds looking for the lump with the wand and said “you’ll have to point to it”.

“It’s right h-”

“Just point to it with one finger”.

*point*

*pokes me with the wand* “ok!” and moves on the the ‘area’ on the right, where she spent a good 10 minutes with her wand and a ruler – clicking her mouse and typing and clicking. “OK! Stay here and I’ll be back!” and she was gone.

She came back, stared at her paperwork, signed something, and said “He wants me to tell you that we don’t see anything suspicious were you think you found a lump, and you need to follow up with your doctor.” and hands me a check out paper.

“But so what is it then? That’s normal? And what’s on the right? What now? What happens next?”

“He wants me to tell you that we don’t see anything suspicious were you think you found a lump. And that you need to follow up with your doctor.”

“Where I *think* I feel a lump? But you feel it, right? It’s there. I feel it and my husband feels it and my mom and the other lady- she felt it. I don’t have a doctor. What do I do next? What’s on the right side?”

“Sometimes your breast tissue changes and you think you feel something. You’ll need to follow up with your doctor.”

“That’s not regular breast tissue. Where you able to see anything on the ultrasound?”

“He wants me to tell you that we don’t see anything suspicious were you think you found a lump. And you need to follow up with your doctor.”

“I DON’T HAVE A FUCKING DOCTOR.”

So that’s that. Needless to say, I was a bit frazzled and slightly homicidal when I left there – but I feel better because I tracked down the ‘what to do next’ portion..

Tomorrow, Sarah from the Cancer Center will call me and we will go over what the notes in the system say together- and do whatever comes next. If it means going in for another ultrasound and having someone actually look at the left side, I’ll do that. If it means a biopsy, I’ll do that. If it means [fill in the blank] on the right side, I’ll do that. So ‘whatever comes next’ is the plan.

Ridiculously, if I did have insurance (and a doctor) this part would take 2 weeks – as it is, I only had to wait out the weekend.

P.S. Have you squeezed your boobies today?