Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. Me too, but the good folks at the emergency room put me back together again. I can’t begin to tell how much I appreciate the expert, compassionate care at Box Butte General Hospital. A couple of nights of hospitalization got me wondering how many people express thanks or appreciation to those caregivers who spend hours running from patient to patient during twelve-hour shifts, and probably dealing with a few folks who are determined to be unhappy.
A good friend of ours died a few months ago, after a long and difficult illness, but I will never forget the mantra she kept repeating as she fought the good fight. “It is what it is,” she said, every time we saw her. I kept telling myself that during the hours in ER and afterward, when it was tempting to fuss over changed plans and limitations looming ahead. And the other thing I made sure to do was say thanks and words of encouragement to every person who came into my room, as well as a silent blessing prayer. I don’t have a clue if any of that made anyone’s day, but it changed me for the better and probably facilitates my healing. Accepting what I can’t change, and planning to change what I should, kept me occupied too.
I can’t say that only my pride got hurt, but there was that component, and I can laugh about it. Whenever a medical person has asked if I have fallen recently, I could honestly say no, and be proud of it. No longer true, but I have a lot more compassion for those who have trouble with that as they age. And I’m finally willing to make changes that should have happened long ago. Tennis shoes have always made me clumsy and prone to tripping. I no longer own any of those. Things we have always awkwardly walked around in our house are now gone, or have been relocated. I’m learning to slow down and consciously be where I am, instead of thinking about where I’m headed.
I got lucky this time, and they all told me so. Due to numerous staples and stitches, and medical scissors, I may be wearing a scarf or a comb-over next time we meet, but that’s ok. Good enough for Donald Trump, good enough for me. Too bad that I had just gotten another good haircut from my capable hairdresser but, at least, she’ll have less to work with when she sees me again.
Thanks for all the phone calls and prayers, for a husband who didn’t sign up to be a caregiver but has put on that mantle, hopefully just for now. For family support, and for angels in heaven and those with skin on, right here in our community.
Meet me here next week, and meanwhile, do your best. Somebody might like it. You will too.