{All in a month} PART TWO: The Surgery

Then my boy 'Topher went under the knife. All things considered, it went pretty great. They managed to cut his knee right down the middle, grab out the patella tendon, and then drill a few holes through the knee, connecting the new tendon to the femur and some other important bone. All went well.

The recovery was a minor hell.

I'm being dramatic.

I'm not. It really was that bad.

I'm just going to put this out there: I married the world's best human. He is kind, patient, patient, and kind. After surgery... He wasn't. AND THAT'S NOT WHO I MARRIED, GOSH DARN IT! Why can't I just be apathetic? Why? The ugly truth is I can't. It's not in me. I tried to find it, and my soul just screamed back at me, "You are an angry, impatient, fool with those that suffer!" 

I know. I'm not proud of it either.

Sorry babe.

But, I mean, Chris should say sorry, too. 

I mean, he was the one was acting like a two year old.

Am I the only one laughing?

TRUTH: I'm no fun to be around if I think you're being a baby. True story.

But listen guys. We were campin' out at the in-laws, sleeping on a blow up mattress in their front room, with small humans and a dog named Doug, running in and out of the room, often feeling the need to leap onto said mattress with said cripple, causing much weeping and wailing on all parts. AND all our belongings either at the storage unit, sold away, or strewn through various boxes on the side of the house, with the love of my love either stoned on drugs and worthless, or writhing in pain in agony and worthless. 

And with no car.

And for almost two weeks longer than intended.

It was not lovely.

So, let's talk about the no car part. 

And the overstaying our welcome part. 

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At some point in time, we were driving from Orange County (for like the billionth time in 5 days), and were planning on leaving to Utah the following day. To get to the The Shire, you have to drive up the side of a mountain (read: cliff), that winds and turns for miles. I have driven that devil road too many times to count, and each time I swear a couple times under my breath. I am telling the truth.

This time, it was around 11:00 PM. With a car full of youngin's, 1/2 a husband, and random belongings stashed throughout the car that didn't fit in the Uhaul the first trip up the mountain.

AND THEN MY TIRES BLEW OUT. Can you believe that? The two tires on the right side of my car just exploded. Now, for clarification: we didn't hit anything. But we did. We had to of. But, we never felt it, or saw it. BUT, you could have stuck a small sized Grif inside the gashes that were once tires.

That moment was my favorite part of the whole month. Hands down. I was so happy to be stuck on the side of the mountain, with  two lanes of cars zooming past. In the middle of the night. With cranky, sleepy children. And a husband that was dissolving before my eyes.

Favorite part.

Truth be told, we didn't even realize there was more than one tire casualty, until a kind stranger pulled over to the side of the road to help us, jacked up the front of the car, dug out the spare tire that was conveniently buried under who-knows-what, then inefficiently tried for so.very.long. to get the stupid tire on, took jack off, and were ready to take off, that we actually even realized that the back tire was ALSO FLAT. 

Are you feeling my frustration??

So, I called road side assistance, and before too long--- but not before Hugh insisted we were dying 531310 times---- a tow truck man was there.

Car towed.

Humans into Grandma's car.

Off to bed.

In the morning, the car man called to tell us that he would have it ready by Monday (it was the weekend. Of course. Weird stupid car things only happen on the weekend when places are actually closed.).

BUT THEN IT GETS BETTER: Monday, he called to tell us that "SURPRISE! Your actual WHEEL got cracked. And we need to special order it. And it will cost about three times what the tires did. And will take about a week to get here. YOU LUCKY DOG."

And, even then, the wheel magically ended up taking longer than expected to order. Naturally.

Basically, almost two weeks after getting to Ramona (it was supposed to be a couple days), we had to high tail it out of there, in order to even make it to my brothers wedding on the 17th.

And that whole lovely time, my husband was bedridden with his pathetic excuse for a knee, and just plain miserable and off his rocker.