My Lighthouse in the Darkness

Ten years ago I married my best friend. I married the man I love. I married the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. We have been together since I was 16. We promised in our vowes to love each other no matter what. We declared our love in front of a small group of our family and friends. We didn’t know what was in front of us, but we promised to do it together.

Only 4 years after we married, I had my accident. We thought it was a sprained ankle. We had no idea what was about to happen.
We didn’t see it coming. Like a truck with no headlights screaming around a blind corner, I was hit with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. The pain, the anguish and the torture was pure hell. It still is! It takes away your ability to live a normal life. It robs you of your dreams. But it’s not just me it unleashed it’s fury on. It’s also my husband.
He has been witness to the flares, the crying and the screaming. He has seen me reach my lowest of lows. He has seen me go from the happy, bubbly, outgoing person to someone we do not recognise. He has woken, I forget how many times, during the night to me trying to muffle my screams into my pillow. He wraps his arms around me in a bear hug and tells me to breathe. Just breathe.
He has held my hand at specialist appointments, dropped everything to come running when I need him. He has been through the battle of trying to get a diagnosis, and the aftermath.
He could have run away. He could have said that it’s too hard, that it’s too much. But he didn’t. He is right by my side. He faces everything with me, head on. He has actually been more receptive of things then I have. When my occupational therapist said it was time to use a wheelchair, he showed me that it was ok. That I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. When I want to hide my ugly CRPS leg from people, he tells me that I don’t need to. When I get frustrated with not being able to do something, he tells me that it’s ok. He tells me that we will do whatever it takes to find ways to cope, to find answers.
We are not perfect. We argue just like any normal married couple. We take the mickey out of each other. We laugh, we cry. He leaves his dirty washing on the floor and I forget to get meat out of the freezer for dinner. But at the end of the day we are there for each other.
CRPS doesn’t care who it hurts, or what devistation it causes. We need to remember to appreciate and thank those who we have in our lives. That person we rely on. That person who is there through it all.
Unconditional kindness is rare. I cannot begin to express the gratitude I have for this man I am lucky enough to call my husband. In my world of darkness, he is my lighthouse.








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