DISCLAIMER: THE EVENTS IN THIS BLOG HAPPENED IN 1997. I AM FINE TODAY.
A faithful reader, LeeAnn, brought to my attention that I never finished this saga. Sorry about that. I got caught up in other things. But apparently, inquiring minds want to know the rest of the story, so here it is.
When we left off, I just got out of the hospital and the Good Chaplain was leaving for a TDY to Malaysia the next day. My biggest concern was how I was going to survive on macaroni and cheese for the next four weeks because that was all the girls knew how to make. The answer came in the form of neighbors, chapel friends and the squadron.
I am not a person who can ask for help easily. I like to think I am the strong, independent military spouse expected of me. So when something like this happens, well, it is a humbling experience. I couldn’t drive, I could barely walk and I had two children to take care of. But I also had the best friends in the world.
One friend, Nancy, cleaned my house. Another friend, Cathie, drove me to my doctor’s appointments, and a third friend coördinated meals for us for four weeks. Cathie even kept me supplied with Twizzlers and cleaned out the refrigerator when I could smell something bad. And Nancy had the dubious pleasure of helping me up the stairs for a shower. Anything I needed done, happened.
I couldn’t imagine that happening in the civilian world. Maybe it would have if I lived in a neighborhood for a long time, but in the military, it is the rule and not the exception to automatically get that kind of help. In fact, it was a great lesson for me to learn how much people care, if I would just ask.
Since that time, I’ve received help and given help when I can to my military family. Because as all military spouses know, nothing goes wrong until your spouse leaves for any length of time.