Getting past dark clouds

Sometimes when it rains, it pours...then a car speeds by, splashes you with a puddle just as someone socks you in the chin and robs you.


Maybe I’m the only who’s had those days, but I doubt it. You know how it is when every possible thing that could go wrong actually does. Yeah, I know. You’re nodding your head in agreement, right? Those days are the worst.


As I write, I’m peering over at my eldest son, Charlie, who’s finally sleeping peacefully with an IV line trailing from the back of his little hand, making sure he’s good. I’ll be pulling an all-nighter at the hospital tonight. This time, surprisingly, it isn’t for me. However, I wish it was me rather than my little soldier.


I woke this AM the same way I had for the past three months after being off “Mr. Preddy”: body stiff as a board with my joints screaming for a timeout. {cue the showers} With a rain cloud mirroring my every move, I practiced, came home, kissed the wife, hugged the boys, kicked the dog* and ate a meal like I usually do.


“Why that cloud gettin’ so big?” I thought as I sat at the dining table.


Trying to ignore the faint rumbling and sound of rushing water, I chew my last piece of broccoli. Not twenty minutes into my aching recovery do I find my four year old sitting on his bed crying next to what looked like blended spaghetti and corned beef. And it was exceptionally large. I’m talking that adult-sized “I’m never drinking like this never ever ever again” type of large. It happened four or fives times in succession before my wife and I decided to rush Charlie to the emergency room. 


{Now the rain is really starting to come down.}


Halfway there, as my wife tended to my boy in the backseat she started to complain about her stomach feeling weird. You can guess what happened thirty seconds after she said it. Yup. Blaaah. Both of my babies were in the back singing a tune, and it definitely wasn’t the John Legend that came from the speakers.


“Wow, that Ferrari is going mighty fas....” SPLASH! “Hey, give me back my wallet!” POW! {sigh}


But after hours of pandemonium, my big fella is asleep and Erica’s home with a happy baby Roman and feeling better than earlier. So while I write to you, drenched, broke, with a bruised cheek bone, I realized that there was something that helped me get through this wild night. I realized that my thinking wasn’t on why all this was happening but rather what I needed to do to get through it. When I was first diagnosed with ITP, all I worried and complained about was why it happened to me. It took years to realize that I needed to be proactive if I wanted my life back. Tonight, had I sat around bitter and wondering why, the current situation could be much different. But instead, I locked in on the how and it gives me the peace to write to you about it in a positive light.


Make no mistake about it: I prayed and texted fam and friends to pray as well. But if I don’t get to the ER safely and timely or if I’m not calm, listening intently to the doctors, coaching my son through the IV insertion (he didn’t cry) and cleaning up his accidents throughout the night, how much worse would this situation be for all of us?


Next time you’re caught in the rain, don’t worry about why it had to be on that day. Keep an umbrella with you, kindly step out of the way when a speeding car approaches the puddle in front of you and try no to chill in places where you might possibly get mugged.


More importantly, remember: Don’t ask why. Figure out how.


You’re on your way. Don’t let a little water ruin the trip.



*No animals were harmed in the making of this post.

Posted on March 3, 2014 .