I live in the Midwest. We tend to stand on the porch and watch as the storm clouds roll in, and the thunder begins. But, once the weather gets strong enough, we head back in to our protective covering. And, if the siren goes off, you better believe we're headed to the basement. We aren't taking any chances. We know how to appreciate a storm, and we know when to retreat to safety.
Today, I took my three trips to the car. First, I loaded our diaper bag, and gear for the day. My second trip, I buckled Asher in. And, as I stood on the porch locking the door and holding Shilo, it began to sprinkle. She was my last trip. I got her in her seat, and hurried around to get in, and out of the rain.
I drove off. The rain wasn't very heavy. I was headed west. The rain was headed southeast. So as I drove, to the left of me, the sky was dark, and promised a good storm. To the right, there was a reminder that the storm was going to pass. And just ahead of me, very faintly, stood a rainbow you could only see half of. I drove towards it. It appeared to be just beyond me, giving the illusion if I drove just a little further, maybe, just possibly, I could pass under it into some magical utopia full of great things.
But, I knew that wasn't in the plan for the day. I was going to head west for only so far, and then my destiny was due south. Right through the storm. So I took a deep breath, gripped the wheel, and turned on my headlights.
It wasn't long before the downpour was so hard that even with my wipers on high, and a slower speed, I could barely see any of the other vehicles around me. But, I trudged forward, at a slower pace to remain safe. I didn't have much choice. I had to be somewhere, and the only way to get there was to drive through that storm.
By the time we reached our destination, the sky was beginning to lighten. There were only reminders of the passing storm in puddles, and wet things. We made it safely to where we were going.
As I was driving through it, I kept thinking about how appropriate it was to be in that storm today. How it felt like a metaphor for my day. It started with picking out a wheelchair for Shilo. It needed to happen. We're so glad we did it. But, it was sort of like a light rain. Not horrible. You know it's good for the plants. But, it still feels a little less than ideal when you have to deal with it.
Shilo totally rocked it though. She quickly figured out forwards and backwards, and we got excited about the independence this could bring to her. There was a half of a rainbow, looming overhead after this storm.
But, the next appointment felt like the downpour. We sat in the neurosurgeon's office discussing what releasing Asher's tethered spinal cord would entail. It felt like too much. I could barely see, and was trying to navigate slowly. In the end, it's also good for the plants. But, it also can bring potentials with it that aren't as great. Things like lightning that can harm. Flash flooding. Slick roadways. So, we move ahead, cautiously.
For now, we are awaiting an appointment with cardiology to give clearance for the surgery. But, in the near future, the doctor will move bone, open up the membrane at the bottom of the spinal cord that contains spinal fluid, and remove the lipoma from his spinal cord. She will sew it back up, and then Asher will be required to lay flat for at least 24 hours. She's done this a million times. She's great at it. This is our first time. And, there are risk.
So for now, we cautiously head into this next storm. The other side should be blue skies. Fluffy clouds. Puddles to jump in. But, right now, we're driving slow with our headlights on. We've driven through a lot of storms. This just happens to be then next one.