Near Death

Saturday night I think I came the closest to death that I have ever come. I've undergone an 8 hour surgery; have a 7 3/4 inch scar on my right arm; flown in an airplane; fell the wrong way 2 stories from a tarzan swing at a campground lake and torn the ligaments in my knee, but Saturday night I actually thought that I was going to die, on the toilet, with my pants around my ankle. My last thoughts, or so I thought at the time - please, I don't want to die, I want to see my kids grow up. I don't know what I had but I had pretty much the worst stomach ache of my life. It's about 5 p.m. and I'm lying on the couch, trying to sleep, as my kids are eating dinner. I'm in and out of sleep because I'm such a light sleeper, but I at least am resting. A bit later Dave is standing by the stairs and he says "Little One, get down the stairs, you might fall," or something like that, and the next thing I know I see him flying down the stairs and hear him wail. I run over and pick him up. I see his eye swell. I get the phone and call the doctor, telling Dave we might need to go to the ER. As I'm on the phone and holding Little One I get so nauseaus and light headed that, in the middle of him screaming and talking to the operator on the phone, I have to hand both to Dave and I run upstairs. I feel like ice is poured over me, enveloping my brain. I'm in such pain and am so cold. The feeling passes and I lie in bed. I sleep, on and off, until morning, where I am definitely starting to feel better, even though I'm not totally out of the woods. Dave knew I must be feeling bad because never, in a million years, if I didn't have to, would I have ever given up Little One for anything unless it was absolutely mandatory - unfortunately, it was.

Now, Monday, I'm definitely better - 100% better I'd say.

Boy, I love my kids. I never want to leave them - no matter how much attitude they can give or how frustrating they can be - I love them more than I love myself.