Imagine that I am a professional juggler. (I can be wearing a brightly colored court jester outfit, if that helps you establish a solid mental image.) Got it? Good. Now I am no spectacular juggler by any means. But I’m adequate. I’m good enough to keep entertaining the King’s court without being beheaded… or whatever they did to really sucky jugglers back in the day.

Each of my balls are smallish in size. Nothing too tricky. I don’t necessarily do any frickin awesome tricks with them, I just manage to keep them all in the air.

One of my balls represents the kids. Their general health and well being. My ability to remember and successfully transport them to their various activities is represented by another ball. There’s a ball for Jon, a ball for keeping the house in semi-functional order, a ball for my church work, a ball for school volunteering, a ball for social time (lately that’s been a very, very small ball), a few more balls for whatever. I’ve really tried to focus more on my writing for the last year or so. That ball got a little bigger, a little brighter and shinier… but it fit into the rotation okay. All of my balls were still in the air.

Last year Jon got sick with a weird heart thing — which, luckily, turned out to be nothing horrible — and for a while I was juggling that. Only that wasn’t represented by a ball. A ball is something that any competent juggler can handle. ER trips and medical bills and uber-anxiety weren’t things that I was used to handling. So Jon’s heart thing was something more of a bowling pin.

So I had a bunch of balls and a bowling pin. But still, everything was still in the air. It wasn’t super pretty, but I was keeping it all up there.

Then Deacon had his hospital stay. Deacon’s thing was way beyond the scope of my normal juggling abilities. Deacon’s hospital stay — and all that whole ordeal encompassed — was represented by a large frickin dining room chair. It was hard, and foreign, and — if not handled properly — could have poked out my brain via my eye socket. When one gets a dining room chair into the juggling mix, one is bound to have some balls fall. And some did. I started fumbling, balls started dropping, and I imagined hearing the people of the King’s court booing me. Threatening to behead me… or whatever. But as flustered as I felt about dropped balls, my main concern was just keeping the damn dining room chair in the air. Just the chair, baby.

But the chair passed. I got to toss it out of the rotation. Got a short reprieve. I was back to my usual balls.. even though I couldn’t quite get back into the rhythm of my simplistic juggling routine. The chair really threw me.

Then Jon got sick. And we couldn’t figure out what it was. And he stayed sick. And we still couldn’t figure out what it was. And he got sicker. And they only sorta figured out what it was. And he’s still sick. Jon’s poor health is a long and drawn out situation. It can only be represented by something heavy, weighty, and fatiguing. Watching him in constant pain and frustration feels not so much like something impossible to handle, so much as something that is mentally, emotionally, and spiritually draining. Sort of less like having your legs torn off by a shark, and more like having them sucked dry by leaches.

So picture me again: bright jester suit, pointy shoes. Balls in the air, accompanied now by a bowling ball. A real heavy sucker. And the bowling ball has precedence over everything else, because it just has to. The bowling ball’s not going away. And dude, if you could see me trying to keep everything up in the air… wow. I’d be beheaded for sure. I’m fumbling, faltering. Balls are falling and rolling away. And kindly people are stepping down from the King’s court to help me with my dropped balls. They are picking them up for me, tossing them back. Some people are keeping my dropped balls altogether, pocketing them until I seem able to handle them again.

People are kind.

My juggling act is a joke. But not a haha joke… just a sad-ish joke.

I miss my simple, adequate routine. I miss seeming plain, yet competent. I miss sleeping well. I miss being completely awake. I miss my husband being happy.

And I so very much look forward to the day when I can drop the bowling ball out of the rotation, when all of my balls are back up in the air.

8 Comments »

1. Aw man, that must be so scary and frustrating. I’m so sorry dearest internet buddy. I wish I could handle a few of those balls for you from here in Cali… though you would take them back from me immediately once you realized what a spaz I am. I do have to say, though, that this post is a freaking awesome piece of writing even though it is a big bummer. Hang in there!

   Comment by Heather — February 25, 2010 @ 10:53 pm

2. PLEASE let me help you with something. Meals, babysitting, company while shopping/eating/movie-going. Also call me so Jon’s team at work can do something. They are just waiting to grant a (medium sized) wish of yours. Let’s be friends.

   Comment by Krista Hansen — February 26, 2010 @ 9:03 am

3. I love you Suz. Hang in there. Your post was beautiful.

   Comment by Diana — February 26, 2010 @ 11:14 am

4. Ahh Suz - this is indeed a saddish kind of post. The bowling ball is going to fall out the rotation soon, it has to and when it does lets get that social ball back up there with a movie or lunch or pedicures, anything. I love your writing, this is absolutely beautiful.

   Comment by Shahara — February 26, 2010 @ 10:36 pm

5. Beautiful, fair Jester. I pray that if you can’t drop that dang bowling ball, you gain the muscle to hurl it in rotation. I’m sorry it’s been such a rough year.

   Comment by lisa milton — February 27, 2010 @ 9:44 pm

6. Suz, it’ll get better. It has to. And I bet you’re a better juggler than you think.

   Comment by Leslie — March 1, 2010 @ 12:14 pm

7. I love you and all your poetic prose, I love you for the strong, wonderful woman you are. You are a fine fine writer and an excellent juggler. Thank you for being you.

   Comment by Nerak — March 2, 2010 @ 8:53 pm

8. I am sorry for the struggles; I would take a ball or five for you, for sure.

   blessings & prayers from here

   Comment by stephanie (bad mom) — March 3, 2010 @ 9:14 pm

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