Light at the end of the tunnel and a bend in the road.

Today, God willing, was Aaron's last surgery. His skin grafts took nearly 100%. The wound vacs are off and any "serious" dressing change can be done down in recovery with a little twilight drugging. Everything else is bedside. Anesthesiology signed off on him, which is amazing news too. That means his pain management is doing so well that he doesn't need them anymore.

Our bend in the road is that we might have to transfer to another facility, for a little while, to do some poly-trauma care. His upper body is very weak and he might need some extra-special rehab for that. It would be great if everything could be done here, but it can't. Those recommendations and decisions will come in the next week or so. Anything can change, at any time. That alone is exhausting.

There have been parts of this process that feel like I'm trail-blazing. We would like to think that at this point, every step would be a flawless brick in the road. Unfortunately, that's not the case. The parts that I have fought for are not insignificant, but fortunately they don't have anything to do with Aaron's care. These military nurses, medics, LPNs, and corpsman are truly proud and humbled to serve our war injured.

War injured: Almost out numbers the Vietnam dead. I know, though, that while this at times as felt like a complete and total nightmare it is some widow's dream. Every day, 100 times a day, I could cry just from feeling so lucky, blessed, and overwhelmed that I have my husband.

Someone wins the lottery everyday. Aaron won his when the IED was triggered and it went off directly under him. I won mine when he came back to me alive, and spiritually whole. He's himself.

This next part goes out to a red-headed blogger who doesn't grace us with her words often enough (cough, you know who you are):

Lives not wrecked by injury and death are not insignificant. You stand and watch others go through this pain, but perhaps ignoring your own. You can observe and articulate what you see. You can tell us what it's like to care for man who delivers the bad news. You're also a newlywed, and there's weight in that experience, as well. Please write if it's in you. If you don't feel like it, I understand. But if there's something inside of you, get it out!!!! Share with us. Be angry. Someone will understand. A lot of someones, actually. Maybe someone will challenge you and you'll grow from the experience. Who knows. But don't not write because you feel there are too many other bigger issues going on.

Life still happens. I talk to my friends about their boyfriends, their babies. I miss my friend who died four days after Aaron's incident. I still have to call the bank about the car payment.

And it's all significant. I'm just in a different bubble at the moment. Promise.