DON'T MISS THE JOY!
Can I get any sadder. I'm remembering that this once was a happy time when excitement and anticipation filled my heart. It has become a time to feel sorry for myself.
When I was growing up we were real poor. We rented a small house from, and next door to, the landlords, who weren't poor and who lavished their four grandchildren with gifts every Christmas. I helped shop, wrap, decorate, clean, cook, serve, pass out gifts, and collect the discarded wrappings. I was also filled with great envy. When I had children of my own, I tried to assuage that envy by lavishing them with gifts every Christmas. Every year my husband would look at the beautifully wrapped gifts piled high around our Christmas tree and would say, "Too much!" or, "You're sure showing them landlord kids." When my children left home, I tried to keep it up from afar. It just isn't the same.
I began to rock as the tear neared my right jaw line and another tear broke out of the corner of my left eye. Noticing the tears, my mind turned away from the sad thoughts I'd been dwelling on. I grabbed a tissue from a nearby box and wiped the tears away.
"I'm imagining that everyone else in the world is smiling. How ridiculous. I have chosen to feel sorry for myself and I can chose differently!" I thought as a spark of joy started to grow.
I think I will have myself a happy new day! After all, it is almost the most wonderful day of the year and I don't want to miss it by feeling sad!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
CHAPTER SEVEN
Let me just end it because I have another meme to write!
I had surgery on Tuesday. Wednesday I was washing, brushing and going potty in the bathroom in the hospital room, with the support of a walker. Occasionally I would sit in a chair across the room from the bed, maybe six steps. Thursday the therapists came, en mass, to teach me how to put on my clothes and walk up and down stairs. It was a long walk down the long hall to the area where the wooden stairs and other PT equipment was set up. I tried to crack some jokes, but, was unsuccessful. My devoted husband, who faithfully attended me once I was out of my delirium, was the only one to laugh.
That afternoon a handsome young doctor came by to say that Dr. P was out of town and that I could go home the next day because I was doing so well. Wooowhoo!!!
Friday my husband arrived around 8am. The nurse gave him gauze pads, tape and instructions for changing my dressing (The incision is high on the side of my thigh so it would take some of those contortions I talked about in the last chapter for me to even see it) prescriptions, as well as instructions for giving me shots everyday to prevent blood clots. It had to be done every morning for 24 days and was what I liked least about the whole process (I could do it myself, but, my loving husband usually spared me the task). A wheel chair was brought to the room for me, I wished my room mate good luck, then I was wheeled to the parking garage. My husband brought the car to the door. Getting into the car was not easy. I slept most of the 40 minute drive home. Getting out of the car was easier. The two steps up to our front door was a breeze.
To make a long story, that is starting to bore me, short, I will summerize quickly.My husband took excellent care of me. With hard work and determination it became less uncomfortable and arduous to get around. In record time, I graduated to a cane and the riser came off the toilet. Dr. P sent me back to physical therapy where H put me through the paces on the machines and doing exercises. I was walking on my own without a waddle before the allotted visits were up. I cried at my last visit. H said I could come back anytime to use the stationery bike, but, I haven't.
I now know that it is necessary for me to keep up the exercises. When I don't exercise. I feel discomfort in my affected hip and occasssionally I also have pain in the small of my back and the other hip, which scares me (I would prefer not to repeat this experience with the other hip). It is propably my muscles compensating for the new metal occupant that has moved in to replace my poor baby hip. Dr. P has said the ache in my hip would go away in about six months. I wonder what they did with the bone that they cut off my hip?
Let me just end it because I have another meme to write!
I had surgery on Tuesday. Wednesday I was washing, brushing and going potty in the bathroom in the hospital room, with the support of a walker. Occasionally I would sit in a chair across the room from the bed, maybe six steps. Thursday the therapists came, en mass, to teach me how to put on my clothes and walk up and down stairs. It was a long walk down the long hall to the area where the wooden stairs and other PT equipment was set up. I tried to crack some jokes, but, was unsuccessful. My devoted husband, who faithfully attended me once I was out of my delirium, was the only one to laugh.
That afternoon a handsome young doctor came by to say that Dr. P was out of town and that I could go home the next day because I was doing so well. Wooowhoo!!!
Friday my husband arrived around 8am. The nurse gave him gauze pads, tape and instructions for changing my dressing (The incision is high on the side of my thigh so it would take some of those contortions I talked about in the last chapter for me to even see it) prescriptions, as well as instructions for giving me shots everyday to prevent blood clots. It had to be done every morning for 24 days and was what I liked least about the whole process (I could do it myself, but, my loving husband usually spared me the task). A wheel chair was brought to the room for me, I wished my room mate good luck, then I was wheeled to the parking garage. My husband brought the car to the door. Getting into the car was not easy. I slept most of the 40 minute drive home. Getting out of the car was easier. The two steps up to our front door was a breeze.
To make a long story, that is starting to bore me, short, I will summerize quickly.My husband took excellent care of me. With hard work and determination it became less uncomfortable and arduous to get around. In record time, I graduated to a cane and the riser came off the toilet. Dr. P sent me back to physical therapy where H put me through the paces on the machines and doing exercises. I was walking on my own without a waddle before the allotted visits were up. I cried at my last visit. H said I could come back anytime to use the stationery bike, but, I haven't.
I now know that it is necessary for me to keep up the exercises. When I don't exercise. I feel discomfort in my affected hip and occasssionally I also have pain in the small of my back and the other hip, which scares me (I would prefer not to repeat this experience with the other hip). It is propably my muscles compensating for the new metal occupant that has moved in to replace my poor baby hip. Dr. P has said the ache in my hip would go away in about six months. I wonder what they did with the bone that they cut off my hip?
Sunday, December 07, 2008
I'll Whine If I Want To
YOU WOULD WHINE TOO IF IT HAPPENED TO YOU!!!!
I feel an obligation to finish the rendition of my hip drama, or as others might refer to it as a tragic comedy. But, da-dada-dum, I'm using my very clever avoidance routine, which is shifting my focus, instead.
Every year about this time I become determined not to be rushed. Ask me how often I am successful. No, not really, that was what I think is a rhetorical question. I'm going to tell you just what I think. I think that I have less responsibility and more time and accomplish half as much as I did five or ten years ago. And I think it is all your fault. That wasn't rhetorical, just ridiculous:)
We bought a very inexpensive, small artificial tree recently, so we could use it inside, instead of using our lighted artificial outdoor tree in a lovely pot, as we have been doing for a couple of years. Just assembling the new tree, then putting on the lights (200), with copious breaks, took two days. The decorating process is turning out worse. Searching for all the decorations that I was sure I had organized in one place has created huge piles of stuff all over the house, because as I search, I pull things out and decide that it really must be organized before I put it back, or it is in the wrong place. I have started to think about baking cookies instead.
So, then I become overwhelmed and use my very clever new avoidance technique of blogging instead of gettin' on with gettin' on. Now, don't you tell me you've never stooped so low.
I feel an obligation to finish the rendition of my hip drama, or as others might refer to it as a tragic comedy. But, da-dada-dum, I'm using my very clever avoidance routine, which is shifting my focus, instead.
Every year about this time I become determined not to be rushed. Ask me how often I am successful. No, not really, that was what I think is a rhetorical question. I'm going to tell you just what I think. I think that I have less responsibility and more time and accomplish half as much as I did five or ten years ago. And I think it is all your fault. That wasn't rhetorical, just ridiculous:)
We bought a very inexpensive, small artificial tree recently, so we could use it inside, instead of using our lighted artificial outdoor tree in a lovely pot, as we have been doing for a couple of years. Just assembling the new tree, then putting on the lights (200), with copious breaks, took two days. The decorating process is turning out worse. Searching for all the decorations that I was sure I had organized in one place has created huge piles of stuff all over the house, because as I search, I pull things out and decide that it really must be organized before I put it back, or it is in the wrong place. I have started to think about baking cookies instead.
So, then I become overwhelmed and use my very clever new avoidance technique of blogging instead of gettin' on with gettin' on. Now, don't you tell me you've never stooped so low.
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