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Today, I had an appointment with my new neurologist for an EMG. A very nice, over-achiever originally from Spain, my doctor is just beginning to learn who I am after this third appointment.

In his office, on the exam table, I was instructed to lie down and scootch over as close to the wall as possible. I did so, then the doctor picked up my left hand to start putting electrodes on it. It was at this point that I said, “You know that’s the wrong hand. Right?”

Still holding my arm, he paused. He glanced briefly over his shoulder at his notes, then said, “That’s what I thought. Turn around.” I turned around on the table, presented him with the correct arm (my right), and we continued.

After a few minutes, the doctor apparently decided to strike up a conversation. 

CONVERSATION 1: “I thought you were divorced,” he said.

“I am,” I nodded. (Big conversation there. Huh?)

“But you are still wearing your wedding ring,” he protested.

“I thought we went through this last time.”

“Tell me again,” he responded. “I forgot what you said.”

I did not mince words. I simply said, “Legally divorced is Biblically married.”

“Oh, yes,” the doctor answered. “I remember now.”

I gave a curt nod in response, then remained silent. For me, this is not really a topic of conversation. It is just what I do in obedience to Jesus’ commands regarding divorce. Most people seem to disagree with me and a lot of them even used to try to dissuade me. But once a person understands my position, my opinion is that there is really not much to discuss about it unless they need my advice regarding their own situations. If a person needs my advice, they generally ask. Otherwise, I just keep my mouth shut.

Still, the doctor was not quite satisfied. He said, “It is not often, these days, to find someone who is so dedicated to their marriage.”

I just laughed, “These days.” I was thinking, “of course that is how it is in The End of Days,” but I did not say it. I just shrugged and became quiet again.

“So you talk to him a lot, then?” It was more a statement than a question.

“No,” I answered.

The poor doctor. I think I was confusing him. “Why not?” he asked.

“His mistress is too jealous. She would not like that.”

He nodded and was quiet only for a moment before another reasonable thought occurred to him and he asked, “But he talks to your son all the time?” Again, it was more of a statement than a question.

I corrected him about the ages and genders of my two children, because he was obviously thinking my boy was the one still at home. The boy is the 25 year-old living on his own and the younger girl still lives with me. Then I asked, “Do you mean, ‘does he talk to our daughter a lot’?”

The doctor nodded.

“No, he does not — and he does not talk to my son, either.”

“Why not?” was, again the doctor’s question.

“His mistress would not like that either. She is too jealous.”

“Even of the children??” was his surprised response. “That is just not right.”

My response, pointed and clear, was a single (hyphenated) word. I emphasized the movement of my lips as I said it: “HOME-WRECKER.”

This time, the doctor was the one who answered with body language. His lips turned briefly upside down as he bobbed his head up and down. “You have a good point there,” he admitted. Conversation over, but I don’t think the good doctor has quite figured me out yet. On the other hand, he did feel comfortable enough to loosen up during the exam just enough to actually laugh a little. That was nice.

CONVERSATION 2: Earlier today, I went to a different appointment with a neuro-muscular specialist who is trying to help me with an ongoing problem with tension in my right leg and arm. I have not talked to her since just after Christmas, so she was interested to know if my personal prodigal has communicated with either my daughter or me since she and I last talked. I told her that he is still resistant to all communications. She surmised that he probably feels too guilty to talk to us. As I would later do with the doctor, I just shrugged. I don’t know if he feels guilty or not and I don’t really care. His guilt or lack thereof does nobody any good.

“Has he remarried yet?” She prodded. I wanted to tell her that there is no such thing as remarriage while your covenant spouse is alive, but I did not bother. There was no point.

“Not to my knowledge,” I answered. “But I would not marry a woman who cheated on her husband, and destroyed her own kids’ lives by divorcing their father for her personal selfishness, if I were him, either. He would have to be nuts!”

The therapist agreed that he would have to be pretty stupid to marry a woman like that.

I added, “I think that on some level he realizes that, too.”

The therapist nodded and changed the topic. Conversation over.

Please note that neither one of these conversations today was solicited by me. BOTH conversations were initiated and perpetuated by the other party. I seem to have quite a few people both confused and intersted to see what will happen next. As the doctor, an extremely educated man, pointed out, “It is very rare, these days, to find someone so committed to their marriage.” Although I think it is more common than he realizes, I will say that it is extremely rare to find such an obviously blessed, intelligent, successful person as I am who is so committed to obedience to the Lord’s Laws in the face of abandonment and extreme personal hardship. But then, my obedience during times of great hardship is exactly why I continue to be so incredibly blessed. So why would I ever stop?

 
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Posted by on June 22, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

PTSD

Pitch black. I awaken to a faint whimper. Feeling around the foot of my bed, my dog is not there.

“Maybe if I ignore him, he will go back to sleep,” I hope. He whimpers again. Reluctantly, I look at the clock. 2:20 (AM). I pull my feet out of bed to drag them toward the bedroom door.

Thump-thump-thump, I hear a tail hit the floor in excited anticipation.

Whoosh! Out the door like a shot, he races. Then down the stairs as I groan and follow, bleary-eyed. Making a mental note that my dad is not up playing video games tonight, I turn on lights as I go. Too tired to think, I approach the door to the garage and pause.

“What if there is somebody out there?” I wonder as an invisible hand squeezes my heart. “What will I do?” My brilliant, early-morning plan: I will ring the doorbell to wake people up as whoever is out there pulls me out to try to get in.

Fear grips my heart as I open the door. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that nobody is there. I go into the living room to sit in a recliner. My eyse close as I wait for my dog to finish his business. After a few minutes, I begin to wonder what is taking him so long. The invisible hand is back again, squeezing my heart and making it difficult for me to breathe. I get up and go to the door. Holding my breathe, I slowly turn the handle. It opens. There is my dog, wagging his tail, happy to be let inside. My breath releases in relief as I close the door behind him and lock it.

Upstairs, I try to fall back to sleep but cannot. I am haunted by memories of the night I was awakened from a sound sleep by the noise of my locked dog door crashing in and my daughter’s scream as my own husband violently broke into the house at 11:30 on a Sunday night, 3 1/2 years ago. The man I had married, who had sworn to protect me and in whom I trusted my life and the lives of my children, forever violated my sense of security. I will never be the same. 

It was months before I could sleep through the night again and I needed to buy a security system before it was even possible. When I emailed my husband about my restlessness and my nightmares, how every noise woke me up, he emailed back that I needed to “knock it off” and that I should not be telling my friends and family such things. Later, he accused me of buying the security system to try to get more money out of him. Everything is always about him. All I really wanted was to be able to sleep again. As you can see, that is still not possible every night.

I live with my parents now in the house where I lived when I was in college. It is a sub-rural community with well-educated residents who wave at each other as they pass on subdivision streets. Next year, after my daughter graduates from high school, I imagine this house might be sold. Regardless, I will not be in it. I have purchased a place up North.

The house I bought is a fixer-upper, right downtown, in a small city. The lot is very small, with a highway in front of it and an alley behind it. On the other side of the alley are two pubs that play loud music well into the night, especially on weekends. Sometimes I go to work on the house, like I will do in a few days. I have a little trouble sleeping because of the noise, but it is really not so bad except when I am alone at night and my dog barks out the bedroom window or growls at the front door from halfway down the stairs. Then fear closes my throat in on itself until long after he stops his noisy defense and I cannot sleep again.

I learned how to use a gun about a year ago and have considered buying one. It might make me feel better to be able to protect myself. But then I wonder if I would be able to use it or if it would more likely be used against me. I have to admit, the latter is the case. So I have scratched the gun idea. Getting a big dog is out of the question. Even my small dog is almost more than I can afford these days. Besides, I would not want my dog to get hurt during a home invasion. 

I would like another security system but, again, I no longer have money for one. I have thought about a law suit against my husband to get the money for it, but the statute of limitations for prosecuting what he did expire about the same time I was learning to use a hand-gun. Unfortunately, the statute of limitations only governs actions. It does not govern the effects of them, and they remain as my solitary burden. Even my daughter, who was present during the attack, is not quite as marred as I am. Although she should have been sleeping, she was working late on homework and was still awake when it happened. Awakening out of a sound sleep to the crashing in of a dog door really adds an element of terror to home invasion.

So I turn to God. But God has a tendency to do things in His own time, not ours, not the time of home-invading evildoers, and He is really more interested in spiritual development than physical or emotional needs anyway. So I kind of have a suspicion that He does not offer the best home defense. Yet what else can I do? I have no other option.

Oh, how I long for the days before my illusion of safety was forever demolished by a husband with eyes clouded by adulterous lust. How I yearn for him to return to the good and loving man I married so that I can once again feel safe in his arms, even if nowhere else.

“Soon,” God says. But how long will He say that? To Him, 150,000 years is equal to about 7 days. “Soon,” could mean only 1000 years. That is too long for mortals.

It is now 5:30, time to wake up. The dog is rested, at least. Thankfully, I do not need to drive until tomorrow.

 
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Posted by on June 7, 2011 in Dark Memories, Grumblings

 

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Posted by on May 1, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

It Takes One to Know One

Monday night, I lay on a camping cot upstairs in the broken, old house I am renovating.with my family’s help. Anne and I were just up for two nights this time and she had gone to take a shower, so I was alone in the bedroom. After a hours of driving followed by renovations work to complete the day, I missed Dave so much that my heart physically ached. I kept remembering the hundred year old house we renovated together during the early years of our marriage. Dave should be here with us now, using the skills he had honed during that renovation, to build our future now. But he is not with us.

HouseAlone in the bedroom “camp” while Anne showered, I really needed company to keep my mind off my intense lonliness. So I picked up my cell phone and called an old friend. Thankfully, she picked up. I explained where I was and how I was lonely for Dave. No longer with a significant other, my friend sympathised with me.

“You’re lonely for him because you’re doing so much ‘man work,’” she explained. “I know I always miss [boyfriend's name] more when I am doing manly work.” Her comment made sense to me. It helped me feel a smidgeon better. We continued talking for a while, me feeling better simply for my friend’s company.

“Do you remember,” she asked, “way back [reference deleted] when I was having so much trouble with [boyfriend's name] and I would call you?”

Of course I remembered. She continued.

“I remember that you would turn to Dave while I was on the phone to ask him what he thought. I was always so impressed that he knew just what to do. But now we know why. No wonder he knew! I guess it takes one to know one!”

Strange. The reason I asked Dave for his opinion in my friend’s situation was exactly for that reason: It takes one to know one. At the time, I was thinking it takes a man to know what another man is thinking. [Of couse it does! Men do not think clearly!] My trust in my husband did not allow me to even imagine that he might, like my friend’s boyfriend, be unfaithful to me. As it turns out, I was asking questions of the right person for the wrong reasons. Go figure,

What my friend cannot remember is how, after we hung up, I turned to snuggle my husband. I felt so thankful to know that I had married a faithful and good man who loved me and would never do to me what [boyfriend's name] was doing to her. I miss that feeling of deep trust in my mate.

 
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Posted by on April 29, 2011 in Dark Memories

 

Update on “Worry” (from 3/25)

I met my new neurologist today. He seems nice enough. He has a definite Latin accent. At first, I thought maybe he was a native speaker of Portugese. But it turns out he is from Barcelona (Spain). I think what threw me off was a combination of his inflection and the way he pronounces his “S”es. (They are perfect, which is unusual for Spaniards.) Wehn I asked how long it took him to learn how to say the consonant, he said, “A very long time.” Then added that it did not take quite as long as his two 13 year-old daughters (twins) have been taking to learn their Spanish “R”s. Interesting. I like him.

[Poor doctor. I just about jumped down his throat when he asked me if I have “moved on.” I showed him my wedding ring. (“But it has been years,” he protested. Well, I guess two years qualifies for the plural. Doesn’t it? — Not that it matters.) I asked if he knew anything about Infidelity Trauma. He said no, so I asked if he knew anything about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He laughed. (Uhh… duh.) He answered that, yes, he did.

“Infidelity Trauma is a type of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” I announced. Then I asked how long he thought it should take me to get over it. He shut up. Smart man.]

This morning when I went to pull out my medical records, I could not find them. This is very irritating because I have records that are so old even my doctors have not kept them. Now I can’t find my records. The last time I remember even seeing them was in Texas. So what am I going to do? There is important information in there! Maybe I will just have to do everything over again.

Well, the doctor did a thorough exam on me after I explained the problem. He says the name of the pins and needles thing I have is “paresis.” I looked the term up online, though, and paresis means a partial paralysis. That does not make sense to me. I have no paralysis. It us pins and needles! Well, it doesn’t really matter. He wants to medicate me to get rid of it. (Yeah, like that is going to happen. Not.) First, though, he has ordered a couple of CAT scans, two of my brain and one of my spine. He also ordered a bunch of blood work. One of the blood tests was not covered by my insurance, so it did not get done, but I now have poke holes in both my arms. The CAT scans have not yet been scheduled. I am waiting on a call from the hospital.

So far, what the neurologist suggests as a possible diagnosis seems to conflict with what my general practitioner suggested. It is very frustrating to have no diagnisis at all! Hopefully, these tests will turn up more information. It would be nice to finally have this resolved.

So that is the status update on the whole situation with the diagnosis for the cause of my “paresis” for now. I will try to keep this blog updated with information as I receive it. Next, on to the CAT scans!

 
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Posted by on April 6, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

Trump for President?

I just heard the news on the O’Reilly show that Donald Trump is definitely running in the Republican primaries.

All I have to say is, “HURRAY! It is about time somebody with business smarts ran in the GOP!” The last business tycoon who ran for president was Ross Perot, but he did not run for one of the two big parties. He ran as an independant. That was a mistake because it divided the conservative vote. Now Trump is running, but he is doing it right. I will definitely be voting in the primaries this year.

I think part of the reason I am so excited about Donald Trump is that I heard the O’Reilly interview of him. Trump hit issues right on the nose as far as I was concerned. I loved his idea about the Afghanistan war. (Paraphrasing) “We want Osama Bin Laden. He is hiding in your country. You get no more monetary hand-outs till we get Osama Bin Laden.” It is just the way I would deal with a rebellious teenager!

Alright, so right now I am happy. That could change. We will have to see. The one thing I would like to suggest right off to Mr. Trump is that he might consider changing his hair and trimming his eyebrows before he hits the campaign trail. Presidential candidates should be well trimmed and clean-cut. Anybody know Donald Trump? Maybe suggest that to him.

 
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Posted by on April 4, 2011 in Politics

 

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Misnomer

Yesterday morining, I watched a Youtube video that was posted to Facebook. It was the testimony of a couple who divorced and remarried each other. It was such a moving and hopeful testimony that I actually emailed the link to Dave.

Later yesterday afternoon, my subconscious must have still been contemplating the video because a thought washed over me. In the video, the woman says, “Our marriage was DEAD.” How many times have I heard that phrase? Every time I hear it, it bothers me. But this time I was especially bothered because it was a Christian woman, restored in her own marriage, who was saying it.

There I was, picking up pizza, and I found my mind screaming in protest, “Marriage cannot die!! Only living things can die!” To prove my point (to myself), I tried to think of a simile. Here is what I came up with:

Marriage begins with a vow, an oath. What other oaths do we know of? My husband took an oath when he joined the Army. He was deployed to Kuwait and willing to die for the sake of that oath. It was his responsibility to keep his vow and there was no way out of it. Fortunately, he came home safely. After a couple of years of active duty, he wanted out. Oh, he hated it! But the only way out of keeping his oath would have been extenuating circumstances that would have led to a dishonorable discharge. Even though he was fortunate to be married to an extenuating circumstance, Dave did not want the negatives that came with a dishonorable discharge. Therefore, he finished his term of service. Now he has the benefits associated with an honorable discharge from the military.

Now imagine there is no dishonorable discharge available from the Army. No possible extenuating circumstances are justifiable cause for separation. (This makes it akin to marriage.) The only way out would be desertion. Well, what happens to deserters? They get shot. (Nowadays, I think they are sent to military prison.) But before they are shot, nobody ever refers to their military duty as DEAD. Oaths/duty can NOT die. That is why desserters can still be tried for treason years after their military service would have ended. It is also why retired soldiers can be called back to duty in times of crisis (and please note they keep their most recent rank when this happens).

But lets be reasonable. Lets try to think of another oath that might die. How about the oath of office of the president of the United States? I think Andrew Johnson was impeached. That would be like being divorced. Right? But we still refer to him as President Johnson, even after we impeached and replaced him. Don’t we? He took the oath. He served as president. He was replaced by another president but nobody ever refers to his presidency as DEAD. He is and always will be President Johnson. (Just like I will always be Mrs. David Durkee.)

Let’s think on a smaller scale. How about the Boy Scout oath? (Although I would like to think that marriage vows are much more important than the Boy Scout Oath.) Nope. Nobody ever says their Boy Scout Oath is dead. They may quit the Boy Scouts before they make it all the way to Eagle Scout, but “once a Boy Scout, always a Boy Scout.” Their oath is never considered “dead.” The scout is just “inactive.”

No matter what oath you can think of, I bet you can’t come up with one other than marriage that is said to be dead. Oaths do not die. Vows do not die. When a person is not happy in their marriage, even if they leave their spouse and children to start another family, the original marriage is Not Dead. By virtue of the way marriage is formed, by oath, it cannot die. It is not POSSIBLE. Marriage is never alive therefore it cannot die. Vows bind until their terms are met. They do not live.

I want the woman in the video to take back and change her statement, Her marriage was restored, but it was never dead. That is a misnomer (a misapplied or inappropriate name or designation) that does not belong in a Christian video.

 
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Posted by on April 2, 2011 in Grumblings

 

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