Since February, it seemed like we were grasping for anything that felt "normal". I would have killed (or severely injured) to see Mark watching TV, sitting back having a frosty Mt Dew or working in the garage. It's funny, before February, I would get frustrated that Mark was working in the garage late into the night after working a long day. How the tables had turned- I wanted nothing more than a greasy, gas smelling husband to make me feel like he was coming back.
Mark started talking about a track day- YES! I saw him working in the garage and feeling confident as he took his bike apart and reassembled the pieces. It made me cry. It made me happy to see my husband doing something he loved.
He went and raced at the track. All through therapy, the track has been his happy place- not a sandy beach but wearing leather and a helmet, hugging the curves of race track on his bike. It made my heart sing. It also pulled me through a relapse of sorts- that ONE good day made me realize that Mark is still in there, fighting every day to get back to BETTER.
Primary Presentation
2 days ago