Beautifully Broken

Cathi, being the nurse that she is and having thrown the rulebook out days ago, assured the doctors that Josh would be making it on the flight the next day—no matter what. And so began his breathing treatments every thirty minutes for the next fourteen hours. Josh was given a device that has three chambers with a ball in each chamber. The chambers are connected to a tube that goes into the patient’s mouth. A patient with average lung capacity can put the mouthpiece in and, with one deep breath, push every ball to the top of its chamber. When Josh tried for the first time, he could not move the first ball, which is the lung capacity needed to blow out a candle. He inhaled as much as he could and when he exhaled, a fit of loud, crude coughing and wheezing would begin. Cathi reported that the worst smoker on earth could not compete with this cough. He coughed up masses and masses of a mud-like substance. Cathi would make Josh do ten inhales every treatment, knowing that every deep breath would result in two to three minutes of nonstop coughing, spitting up crud, and gasping for air. By the time he was to the fifth try, he was almost ready to pass out. He begged his mom to let him stop. Cathi just reminded him that this was the only way he was going home the next day. The doctors were not going to let Josh on a plane at that altitude with his breathing that bad. So, they pressed on every thirty minutes for fourteen hours straight.

Back in Alabama, I did my best to stay awake while I knew Cathi was working on Josh. I would slip in and out of consciousness, while Josh’s aunt Christie continued to do tireless research on ways to get me a passport in twenty-four hours in case I needed to go to Germany. I spent the day waiting around, trying not to let my thoughts get the best of me.

My mind wandered to the days leading up to Josh’s incident. I remember sitting at our kitchen table in Tacoma and crossing off the sixtieth day of deployment from my calendar. Only seven more months to go, I cringed, wishing this deployment would stop being so “exciting.” I had been constantly looking out for blackout emails or messages from Josh, where I only had mere seconds to respond before he would go offline again. My only hope was the growing list of events I was adding to my schedule. I planned to volunteer, run 5Ks, spend extra time at work, read a ton of books, and find a church whenever I had a day off. Finding items for Josh’s care package was the weekly mission. I made a newsletter for Josh with updates on our family, pictures of Washington in the seasons he was missing, and updates on the Red Sox. Snacks were also a must: Teddy Grahams, Jolly Ranchers, beef jerky, and any other novelty that could potentially fit in his pocket made it in the box. Knowing that other guys were not getting packages every week, I often added items that other people needed.

I was happy to be able to communicate in any form with Josh while he was deployed; we were able to share Facebook messages at times. There were only three computers that could be used to talk to family, but if the guys had their phones, they could message us through Facebook without needing cell service.

May 29, 2012 10:41 am

From Josh Wetzel:

I want you to know that you are my everything. You have been the best wife ever. I couldn’t have asked for better. I don’t know if I ever told you why I fight so hard here… I fight hard so that I can bring our family honor. And so that you know your husband gave everything he had to bring all of his men home. I love you angel. I have to go to sleep. Remember I will be gone for like 5 days. You are my everything. G night.

May 29, 2012 10:45am:

From Paige Alyce Wetzel

Oh honey. I love you too. You’re my everything. I stay strong bc I want you to be proud of me when you come back. You make me so happy and you are the poster of honor and integrity. I miss you so much. I love you please stay safe.

Knowing I was somewhat helping Josh pass the time made me feel good, but those highs vanished in seconds. No matter what, I was still alone 90 percent of the time. Thinking about Josh too much made me upset. Even the most pleasant thoughts would round the corner and arrive at I wonder what he’s doing right now. Then, my imagination would spiral out of control. With my eyes squeezed shut, I demanded that my mind resurface to reality. I battled internally—the dialogue went something like this:

Just because I’m not thinking about it doesn’t mean it’s not happening.

He could be over there fighting for his life right now.

Yeah, but what’s the point in stressing about it right now?

I am not stressing about it. I’m trying to just accept the truth.

If I can at least imagine what he’s going through, maybe he won’t hide it from me later.

Well, that’s later anyway, so why ruin your day?

I finally concluded that the best thing to do was Let the nightmare come to you. Don’t go looking for it.

My prayer life had morphed from dead to angry. The anger stemmed from not being able to talk to anyone about anything ever. I couldn’t even talk to Josh about it. My demons were outgrowing me. When I prayed, I did everything short of cursing. I didn’t know this at the time, but David often cried out to God in angry ways accusing God of betraying and abandoning him. God didn’t rebuke David much for this;