Not So Fun Fact Time

Where A Highly Unlikely Life Began

I would say “fun fact” time…but I don’t know how fun it is. Sad fact…probably. Sick and twisted fact..for sure. Not so much fun though. Let’s just stick with STORYTIME!

I’m sure if you walked down the street and asked random strangers if their life turned out the way they envisioned it when they were a kid, probably 9 out of 10 would undoubtedly tell you it did not. No one can see the future or plan for the unexpected in life….that’s part of the adventure! Seeing where life takes you and striving to make your dreams a reality amongst the chaos the universe throws at you.

My life is no exception.

The day Jason died I was alone…not physically alone, but emotionally alone. Being a military spouse, being alone is nothing new. We had only been stationed in Denver for a short two years. We did not live on base and were not surrounded by our military community. We had friends from church and work, but none of our immediate family or close military family were nearby. My cousin, Leana, that lives in Denver was out of town. Since I had sent my children to stay with family in the days preceding Jason’s death, it was just me, surrounded by Jason’s command and a slew of police officers…sitting on the side of the road, losing my mind with grief. I couldn’t go home and I had no capacity to think in my grief blinded state of mind.

The first sergeant called my mom and she called my sister, Michelle, who immediately jumped in her car and headed to Denver.

My boss and his wife took me to their house and offered a safe haven to not only me, but friends and family who arrived through the afternoon and evening, while I waited for my sister. I was incredibly blessed to have people in my life that took care of me that day.

When Michelle arrived, we came up with a plan to sleep for a couple of hours and then leave for my parents house so I could be there when my children woke up, and I would have to do the most difficult thing I have ever had to do…tell my children that their father had died at his own hand.

We went upstairs to my boss’s daughter’s room to sleep. We sat there in the dark and talked about all the details that led up to this tragedy. How I knew Jason was in trouble. All that was done to get him help. His response to those efforts. The support I had received in these efforts from Jason’s command. And the utter failure of his psychiatrist and the words he had spoken that set everything in motion.

After Jason was admitted to the military psychiatric facility, I had to drive to the base each day to meet with Jason’s command and have a conference call with the psychiatrist and Jason. During these meetings, the psychiatrist assured us that despite his initial diagnosis that Jason had suffered a psychotic break resulting in delusions, he was now certiain Jason had an adjustment disorder. He said past behavior is the best indicator of future behavior and since Jason had never before tried to harm himself or others in the past, it was “highly unlikely” he would ever do something like that now.

This was not the first time a doctor had said these words to me regarding some improbable happening. The audiologist that diagnosed Jordan as hearing impaired at five years old told me it was extremely rare, and highly unlikely for there to be more than one hearing impaired child in a family. Elaine was diagnosed with hearing impairment three months later. My gynecologist told me it was highly unlikely that I had undiagnosed endometriosis at thirty-one years old after having three children. She refused to do an endoscopy in order to give me a proper diagnosis. Eight years of suffering later, I finally convinced a fourth gynecologist that I NEEDED a hysterectomy. She gave me the same speech about how unlikely it was that I had endometriosis. After my surgery, she gave me pictures of all the endometriosis she had found inside of me and told me how it had gotten so bad that it had grown into my right ovary, and that’s what was causing all of my pain.

So as I sat there at the conference table with Jason’s command and listened to the psychiatrist tell me how very unlikely it was that my husband would harm himself, I thought to myself, “then he will”…because in my world if it’s highly unlikely, it’s practically guaranteed to happen.

Michelle said we should copyright that saying and have t-shirts made. I laughed through my tears and laid back on the bed to try and sleep.

As I looked up at the ceiling in the dark, there was a shadow of the unicorn head hung on the wall directly above my pillow. I jokingly commented on how it would suck if it fell and stabbed me with the horn. My sister said very calmly from her bed across the room, “That’s highly unlikely.” and we both busted out laughing like a couple of crazy ladies just grasping for a moment of relief from the sadness.

A few weeks after the funeral, I got a package in the mail from Michelle. It was a shirt. The front said, “It was Highly Unlikely” and on the back it said, “and therefore almost guaranteed to happen”. Dark humor became my closest ally to protect me from my grief, and my sister understood.

Several months later, another of my sisters, Francesca, came to visit and see my new house. She was telling me about her blog site and encouraged me to start my own. I agreed, thinking I would probably never write anything, but since my therapist had also recommended writing, I may as well set it up. As I sat in front of the computer screen, the site prompted me to name my blog.

There was no question in my mind what the name should be; it would be the story of my highly unlikely life.