The long drive... the tears... my wife had to leave us

So it is after 2 am, I am sitting in my house. It has been a difficult day. And all I want to do is write. I don't know where I became such a writer, I just sit down and tap away on the key board.

A few weeks ago, I told my wife that my life was like a graph. The jagged line bouncing from point to point, seemingly to stop for a moment then jumping to the next dot. I told her that we were about ready to make another dot. And no, we are not pregnant. That is not what I am referring to when I say that are going to make a dot! I just felt that a life changing experience was around the corner and that our line was about to either jump up, or fall down. The dot has been marked, I do not know which way the line goes from here.

This morning I loaded my amazing wife, into our minivan and headed away from our little kids. She was nervous. I wanted to talk. She wanted to text. I wanted to talk. She wanted to look out the window. I still wanted to talk. Halfway to there, she started to talk. We talked about the amazing 14 years together, the ups and the downs, the turns and the bumps. We talked about how sweet our kids are and how much we loved them. We talked about how much we loved each other. We talked about what our future held. That is where it got a little more blurry, a little more undefined. I want to have a wife that is happy, she wants to be a wife that is fun. I want to be friendly with everyone, she wants to learn to be more friendly. I want to grow old with her, she wants to grow old with me. We have the same goals, the same love of family, and the same love for God and Christ. But 'Jane' is really sick, and this whole conversation involves a lot of crying and struggling to get through words. I want to help her, but I can't. I don't understand, and I cry as write this. I can do nothing for her. I am at a loss. She is in a hell that I cannot fathom and I don't know how she got in there, and I don't have the expertise to get her out. She knows that she is in this hell, and she does not know how to get out. The eating disorder has captured free agency, and he has just about got her life. She weighs 84 lbs now.

Last week, the doctor said she had days or weeks to live if we don't do anything. I wept in the doctors office last Tuesday as they pull up her sleeve to check her blood pressure and they had to leave the room to get a child's cuff as the adult cuff is too big. I hold back my emotions as they cannot read her blood oxygen sensor on the end of her finger because her hands are too cold. I am crying as they try to get blood out of her arm but cannot get the needle in any of her veins because they are too shrunken, once they do find blood, it is only a small amount and body won't give anymore. Dr. wants her in the hospital to get nutrients, she refuses. He tells her that she has a 50/50 chance of dying in the next month if she does not get into a care facility that specializes in eating disorders.

All the while, I don't have good insurance. I have a $20,000 deductible, it does not cover mental health. I fear that she is going to get the flu on Saturday before New Year's Eve. She is getting sick and she does not have the strength to be sick. Money wise, if she goes in on Monday and runs up a $20,000 bill at the hospital and is still in on New Year's day, I could be paying $40,000 in the next week on symptoms of a illness, not the cause thereof. I pray that she will stay healthy until the new insurance I have been trying to get turned on will take effect which will cover all the mental and physical issues. The Lord hears my plea and we make it to Jan 1 with out any hospital visits and I sigh in relief.

Everything starts falling in to place. People feel inspired to talk to 'Jane', prayers are offered, concerns start to grow. My brother has a frank discussion with 'Jane' and tells her what is going to befall her in the coming months if she does not get help. I feel some movement in her, small, but movement none the less. Her stubbornness is easing, we are talking more. She is getting nervous. This all goes on and she continues eating only 200 calories a day, taking diet pills, and exercising 2-3 hours a day. She cannot stop. I cannot stop her. My heart breaks every time I walk in the room and she is doing sit ups, or lunges, or running in place. I see her choosing to not eat and to over exercise  and death, over me and the six kids we love. I am mad, I am angry and it only pushes her further away from me, driving her to eat less and exercise more. Part of me wants to leave her alone and let justice take its toll, the other part wants to grab her and hug her and take away her addiction. I cannot explain the hear break or the explain the sorrow I have felt over this past month. I have been married to a girl I love and she would never let me into the hell she has experienced. I was working and raising kids and serving in the church but I could not discover her greatest battle, nor would she let me in even if I asked. We would talk about people who had eating disorder or mental illnesses  and I would take a hard line stance on both issues. What did they do to bring this on? Who would want to look like a holocaust victim and not eat? They look terrible! Just be happy, square your shoulders and serve others! Why would she choose to not eat and die, how could she do that to her family? I said all this things, all while my wife who was struggling with all of these issues was sitting right next to me, listening and remembering my hard line stance. Never wanting to share her biggest secret because of fear of how I would react. I wish I could take everyone of those statements back. It would have saved her a lot of anguish in her soul and I was so wrong.

On Sunday, I fasted and prayed with many others for my wife. I did not know what to expect. I did not want my wife to go to church. She has been sick and we had not seen the other church members  recently and I was worried about how our friends would react to her gaunt look. I was sure rumors would fly. In our church, once a month we have the opportunity to go in front of the congregation and share some of our feels towards God. My daughter wanted to share but only if I did. I felt like I had control of my emotions, so I went to the pulpit. I bore testimony of the mercy of Christ, of the passing of my grandma, and how God would be the Judge. He will take all things into account. I don't have to Judge, He will take care of it. Everything was going well, my words were well placed and I was in control. And then the emotions hit. I have never wanted to run off the stand so bad, like Napoleon Dynamite (it is a movie, I watch it when I am down, weird, but funny!) when he is done dancing. I even pictured Napoleon running off the stand, awkwardly leaving a wondering congregation behind. My lips quivered. I was shaking. I was seconds from having a full on bawl in front of hundreds. I kept it together and stood there for about two minutes saying nothing. I gathered my wits and bore testimony that Christ will always be with us, even in our darkest hour. I closed and sat down. All eyes followed me to my seat, wondering what got me all worked up, it couldn't be his deceased grandma, he even said he did not know her that well. My eight year old daughter got up, and was so cute and confident. Minutes go by and 'Jane' stands up. She does not do this very often, its kind of a big deal. Poised and collected, she stands and the pulpit and for 6 or so minutes, she bears an amazing and solemn testimony of the Savior's love for her. Eyes are being wiped all around me, something is up with the us and everyone knows it. Is it cancer, drugs, terminal disease? 'Jane' looks sick, she cannot hide it. I am a mess, tears flow. Now everyone knows something is really up. The meeting ends, everyone cautiously looks at us, only a few venture to question us, vauge answers are given. The nurses in the ward know, they have seen the haunted gaunt look of anorexia too many times. 'Jane' knows what needs to happen now, I do as well. The decision has been taken out of hands and there is only one option. It is drastic, it is sad, it heart breaking and it the hardest thing we have ever had to do. We will separate for awhile.

Monday rolls around. It is a huge day for us. If everything lines up perfectly, we will know our next move. 'Jane' has a interview with a counselor to get some info. It goes good, but really it goes bad. The counselor is worried about the physical and mental state of 'Jane' so it should be easy to get her help. She also knows that 'Jane' is the mother of 6 little ones, not only could she lose her life, but it will affect a whole batch of kids. The insurance clicks on at 11am, $6350 out of pocket, $300 per month. Everything that is medically needed for both body and mind will be covered. The counselor calls back and says that she is convinced that we need to move fast. 'Jane's' legs are both numb, her mouth is numb, her lips are numb. Preapprovals are given by the insurance company and we are good for Tuesday morning.

I am out of town on Monday, there is a lot of snow. I remove it off the properties I maintain as fast as I can. In the process, I see a burning house with flames shooting our of the chimney. I stop and tell them to get out of the home and call 911. I plow two other driveways for people who have no equipment. I get paid with a perfectly aged raw steak. I love the West. I talk and cry to friends all the way home. Joel Osteem keeps me motivated on the radio. 'I can do this, I can do this' rings in my ears in the sweet voice of mother. I come home to a doubting wife. 'I am not sick' she says. I knew this was coming. I convince her that she is. She is not sure if she agrees. I shower and put some nice clothes on. I gather the kids and 'Jane' together and we sing 'I am a Child of God' and 'Families can be Together Forever'. My kids have no idea what is about to hit them, they think it is just another family home evening. We say a prayer. I start to talk and tell them that their mom is really sick. She needs help but we cannot get it here. She needs to leave for 3-6 months. My oldest sons face goes blank, then melts into a wave of tears with uncontrollable sobbing. Then the second oldest. Then the girls. My youngest son's reaction is different, he just folds his arms and smiles and says, 'this is weird.' My four year old continues to run around on the slick floor and slide are her slippery jammies. I tell the kids that this is not a decision we take lightly,  we have fasted and prayed and this is our only option. I tell them that we can either say good bye to mom for a few months or for a very long time. Only the boys understand. Our bishop comes over to help me give blessings. I am not sure I can get through a blessing on 'Jane'. I think that my emotions are rung out, like a wash cloth that has been rung out too many times. I place my hands on her head and the revelation flows. So do my tears. And my snot. I bless her with fortitude, strength, love, faith and healing. I picture Christ with His hands on her head. There are cries and sobs ringing through the room from our six little kids. I finish and I ask if any of them would like a blessing, four of them say yes and tender, sweet blessings are given. Simple, but powerful. We finish with the Bishop blessing me, I need it more than ever. This new endeavor will be my hardest, sweetest, strongest and most challenging, but I have no choice. It is being dealt to me and I feel alone in so many ways but, so loved in so many more. My tears flow more free then before, I know that I will get through this one way or the other. The eternities have been written, covenants have been made,  and what ever comes, I will accept. The blessing ends and my baby loses it, she is crying uncontrollably. I have three kids in my arms, 'Jane' has two. She is bawling, I am bawling, the kids are bawling. Except my youngest son, he just sits there, arms folded, wide smile across his face. The Bishop goes over to him and sits next to him on the couch and puts his arm around him and gives him a gentle squeeze. Two small tears come out. We will take what we can get. I know he is sad, he just deals with it different than the rest of this sobbing bunch. We hug and cry. My daughter won't stop. I decide that we should pray as a family before the Bishop leaves and we kneel around our octagon table, all holding each others hands  in the middle. I ask my oldest to say it and he agrees. He starts strong, but it gets to be more of a yell as he tries to get his words out in between his cries. He prays for his mother like she really needs it, because she does. He closes with a muffled amen and we all hug around the table for another ten minutes. The bishop leaves and I tell the kids to cry it out, because tomorrow we have to be strong. Our mom needs us to have happy faces, reassuring hugs and confident smiles. They agree and we hug some more before we go to bed. This has been the most tender moment of my life.

Tuesday morning I am in my office at 5 am finishing up some work orders.  A little head with messed up hair pokes around the corner, my little girl is awake. I asked her how she slept and she says 'good'. I ask her how she is feeling and she says 'Good, but not really. My heart hurts and I am sad. But I am not going to cry for mommy. I will be brave.' I smile and wonder how I got such a sweet little girl. I tell her that she should go snuggle with mommy one last time and she says, ' I want to, but I know she is really tired and I don't want to wake her up when I am moving around. She needs her sleep.' I assure her that mommy is most likely awake and I know she would love one last snuggle. She bounces off my lap and finds refuge in her mom's arms.

We drop the kids off to school, and we are back to where I started. I drive 'Jane' down to the Center. The closer we get, the more nervous she is. This is now becoming real. We arrive at the hospital and we sit in the car for a minute. Our lives will never be the same and we are both going to be changed forever. We go inside. We are welcomed and taken through the hallways to 'Jane's' new room in the intensive care eating disorder unit. We walk through the cafeteria during lunch and I recognize the same haunted gaunt look on the faces of the 50 women in the room. I woke up to that same look over the last few months. I am very somber, I realize the magnitude and complexity of the sickness that affects my wife so deeply. I want to hold her but I realize that we are too late for that, I can do nothing and I must now hand her over to others. I want to cry but I want to be strong, she needs a comforting and confident husband right now, she wants to run outside and never come back. We admit her, sign all the papers, one last hug and kiss and I say good bye, trusting her to the expertise of the doctors and nurses and to God, knowing that I did everything in my power to help her.

You may judge 'Jane', I have done it many times, but only Christ knows her heart and mind. I know that it is pure. I don't know the 'why' or 'how'. It just is. And whatever may come, we will embrace, doing our best along the way. Thank you for your thoughts, fasting and prayers. This is not is not the end, nor is it the beginning. It is just part of the journey that she will be on for the rest of her life. Love her, don't treat her any different. She will come out of this kinder, friendlier and more confident. I will come out of this with more compassion and understanding for those who feel the pains of sorrow from mental anguish and a love for my wife that will be stronger than ever. Pray for us. Pray for 'Jane'. If there was ever a time she needed strength from God, it is now. He lives, I know He does.