Friday, September 17, 2010

It Takes a Village to Care for An Idiot

I just have to pop in and say that I am the blessed recipient of the most amazing care. Everyone pities me, which is rich - you just don't GET that every day. And then they feed me.

We have had over three weeks worth of loving friends bringing meals, flowers, and even groceries. I've had friends, and an aunt, lay on the bed with me and just hold my hand and even sleep. You KNOW you're comfortable when you fall asleep with other people on your bed with you. I've had the loveliest cards and texts and phone calls. One friend even dropped off a pin that says, "I Love Pain Meds." And I DO.

(I've also seen more Dr. Feel than I ever care to again but I did glean a few tidbits to help me tidy up the emotional wreckage I like to call my personality.)

Something you probably don't know about me is that I really want to entertain. And I RARELY do. I used to. A lot. I know this because I was reading my son's baby book to him while on my back and it had a calendar with the dates we had people over for dinner and shopping trips for Christmas party supplies. I threw a whiz bang Christmas party every year for our friends. Then life moved on. Our friends changed as we all went in different directions. And our furniture got rattier and we ripped out the carpet and bought wood flooring to install. The only room done? My daughter's and she doesn't even live here anymore. The furniture finally got replaced but the flooring still isn't finished. But I want EVERYthing to be done before I entertain again. And you know what? Life is passing me by.

Being on my back in bed for three weeks made me throw the doors open wide and say, "Here it is! All our imperfection is open for inspection!" This has been an incredibly humbling experience. I have friends with E.X.Q.U.I.S.I.T.E. homes and I have friends who live very simply. I didn't pick ANY of them for their home and I know for CERTAIN they didn't pick me for mine. Why do I care? I can give a lot of reasons, and some of them valid, but the reality is we just don't get do-overs for a life.

My constant prayer has been, "Lord, let me entertain again before I can't." He answered me through this recovery time after surgery. Gee, thanks, Lord. I have entertained in the lamest way possible. Others have provided ALL the food and the decorations while I supplied nothing but feeble "thank yous." However, I've had all these different people into my home so at least the barrier has been broken and I'd like to think of that as entertaining. (I can convince myself of almost anything.) Other than the occasional kid friend, people are once again being admitted into "Imperfect Land." And they keep coming.

Why? I have no idea. It's not because I'm a wonderful person. It's because they are. So what was I so worried about?

Hoping to be back soon!

With Love,


©Copyright 2010

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Oh The Things That I Could Tell You.....

That you'd never want to hear. BUT.I.CAN'T.SIT. for more than five minutes, and I only get that if I'm lucky. I have an iPod which keeps me from feeling like I've been dropped in a nunnery in the Swiss Alps. At least I have contact with the outside world. But I can't write. I can't visit. I can't even check Gmail (which is my blog email account) because of the computer meltdown. When I've tried to visit blogs on my iPod it takes forEVER to write a comment and then, more often than not, I lose the whole thing so that idea is dead.

(OH.MY.GOOD.OLFACTORIES! If my dog, who is laying at my feet, does ONE MORE OF THOSE THINGS, I'm passing out right after throwing up!)

I had planned to at least visit you guys but THAT hasn't happened. I planned to horrify you with the details of my surgery. THAT hasn't happned. I planned to write more chapters in my book. Well, you get the idea. I'm a deadbeat. I have had pain that should have its own book and agent but who'd read it or buy it? I'd have to pay people to perform those chores and that's not a direction that feels really fruitful. I am NOT back to my life. I don't know WHEN I'll be back to my life. I'm grumpy. I'm WHINEY. I'm not unaware that others have far more difficulties. So I'm also GUILTY which makes me whinier and grumpier. I'm gangs of fun.

Wish you were here!

©Copyright 2010