Another surgery, another day.

Aaron had a minor hand surgery today. His right ring finger has been bent since he was injured; it began at a 90 degree angle but was corrected a little bit over the past 11 months. Hopefully, this surgery straightened it out more and will prove to be a little more functional than it has been. Even if it doesn't do anything, the finger straightening out is better than how it was.

We began before 5am. I thought about early mornings while we walked over in the dark to the hospital. Early mornings when he would kiss me as he left for work. All the early mornings last year when I slept on the cot in the hospital room with Aaron, always feeling tired. I was desperate for sleep for months.

But the most significant parts of our new story don't involve early mornings. When Aaron got on the bus to fly away to Afghanistan it was nearly nine o'clock at night. When people came to tell me he was hurt, it was nearly afternoon. Every other early morning was a product of that day, and the life we had to lead to get this far.

He's walking more each day- nearly half a mile. He might earn his knees sometime before the end of the year. Today was easy. He wasn't even put under general anesthesia this time- all the work-up took longer than the surgery. I was more distressed by the lack of recliners in the surgical waiting room than the outcome of the operation.

But it is often still exhausting. We don't often sleep very well, but our bodies have adjusted. Yesterday, we heard about some crazy directive that our company does not feel that physical therapy is an appointment and is no longer an "excuse" to miss Friday formation. I can assure you, as long as the "big Army" is involved, we will all have reasons to cuss up a storm. There isn't a single formation more important than Aaron going to physical therapy. His service to his country now is recovering from the wounds he received fighting a war he never questioned, even when so many of us did.

His Alive Day (September 7th) is drawing near. His parents, younger brother and wife, and older brother's wife and their daughter are coming. Despite being the anniversary of his maternal grandmother's death (which is terrible for Aaron's mother, I swear) September 7th will be a joyful occasion.

Life goes on. And we're getting there.

P.S. My counselor had to take another job and I am so sad she's leaving, but I suppose it will be a testament of our work together how well I do when she goes.