It included a very touching card which is now on my dresser mirror so I can see it every morning. Debra's generosity is amazing. I find Debra sharing a book she loved with a stranger, her act of paying it forward because she is so inspired by Carol Shields so very moving and inspiring. How awesome is that?
I joked with Debra that I was going to finished my billion page Stephen King book before starting to read this one, however, I've since changed my mind. I opened up the box once more. Put King back on the shelf and will read Larry's Party beginning tomorrow (I have a Migraine today.)
I have also decided I will pay it forward, in the same box, as Debra did when I have finished. I haven't decided how just yet. It may be on Blogger or it may be in my S-Anon group. I'll know once I've finished reading it.
Debra, Thank You from the bottom of my heart. I truly cannot express how much your generosity has effected me.
Have you ever won anything?
Embarrassed, I shook my head back and forth. I couldn't even lift my foot. I was useless. Completely and utterly useless.
Gently, Devin took my sock-covered foot into his large hands and placed it slowly into my well-worn sneaker. He had undone the laces so my foot would slide in with ease. Although his head was bent as he tied my shoe, I saw a smile spreading across his face as gently he did the same with my other foot.
A flash of shame, anger and guilt went through me. How could he be smiling right now? I was in pain, complete and absolute pain. My incisions were burning, the muscles in my stomach hurt from throwing up all night, a Migraine from Hell had developed and I had zero medication left inside me. Yet, looking down, I could still see the corners of his mouth lifting upwards in a grin.
"Why are you smiling?" I snapped at him.
He looked up at me with love and patience and said, "This is what it's all about. Marriage and being there for each other in our time of need. I love being here for you when you need me the most and you allowing me be the one to help you and being there for you. I just love it."
"I hate it." I replied honestly. He already helped me get dressed, watched me throw up, watched as I struggled to brush my own teeth. It was embarrassing and humiliating to have him see me so weak and helpless and I told him as much.
"You need to let go of some of that pride and let me take care of you. You just had a partial hysterectomy, let me help you. It's what I'm here for and I enjoy doing it. Stop being so difficult and let's get you home."
Off we went for the long ride home, his hand on my leg the entire time while he maneuvered the car as gently as he could around the corners. He assisted me into the house where I was greeted with flowers and cards and a banner from my daughter then he carefully helped me into bed. He brought me ice chips, medication, set up a bedside tray and cared for me the rest of the day and everyday since, along with my daughter and I've let them...mostly...
~~~ Devin was right about my pride and willfulness. It was something my sponsor and I discussed during my fifth step. Something I developed at a young age but called it by different names - independence, strong willed, determined - just to name a few, and it served me well while I was a widow and when I co-existed with my daughter's sperm provider; I was still alone, independent.
I was in "control" and it worked well for me then and at times it still does and still can, however, I haven't been listening to my husband when he said he wants to be the one to take care of me, provide for me, be my rock. Instead, I was focused on being in control and allowing my pride to get in the way. I thought if he saw me weak - even in circumstances I couldn't help i.e. Migraines or even a partial hysterectomy - I'd somehow lose that strong woman quality he fell in love with and then he'd lose respect for me or perhaps I'd lose him forever.
I was wrong.
If only I'd been listening to Devin the last year and a half when he told me he didn't resent me for my Migraines or when he explained he wanted to be my hero. It took me being completely reliant upon him to see it's what he wanted and what I appreciated all along.
I will slowly but surely getting back into the groove of things. It's been less than a week since my surgery so please bear with me as I get caught up on my blog and with yours.
Be well everyone!
Anne posted a figure she created of me as a General in the Alliance. I am an Elven Princess and I possess beauty and elegance. I appreciate the detail Anne used to paint me and the magnificent colors she chose to represent me! She is beautiful. Check out the link I provided to see all the steps she used to create the figure; it takes a ton of time and patience. Anne has more patience for detail than I'll ever possess. I adore my figure and am honored that Anne chose to include me in her series.
It has begun!
You didn’t know?
How could you guys not know?
I thought all of you were
I’m just in shock!
Utter, no, wait, that’s for cows, Udder, no, that’s the one for cows, damn it to hell!
I’m trying to act very, over-the-top surprised here – that you don’t know,
The Summer Of Elsie
You don’t even know what the
Summer Of Elsie
Oh, um, my bad.
Sorry about that.
I guess I should maybe explain then.
Here it is, then:
It’s all about ME!! (
When isn’t it, right?
I decided to take the summer off and focus on me.
Yeah, it’s pretty much been in effect for the last few weeks or so but now it’s going to be all official and stuff because the kids begin their summer break this week.
I’ll be working in garden like I did today, see:
Or going to the beach or the pool or I’ll be working on my book or my blog, or my steps...whatever…it’s just the
Summer Of Elsie.
Time to chillax.
Seriously though, I’ll be on Blogger in the mornings but I won’t be writing as many posts as I normally do (lucky you!).
I’ll still visit everyone’s blogs in the mornings or in the evenings. I simply won’t be here during the day anymore.
Unless I’m down with a Migraine – then I’m like a plague…you can’t get rid of me!!
Summer Of Elsie
everyone - I mean
It isn't just the title of an awesome song by the artist formerly known as Prince. Or whatever he is these days. No, I'm not fact checking. I care not about him (so what if I had every Teen Beat picture of him plastered to my pink bedroom walls in junior high. That was then. This is now.) 1999 is the year of my first ever surgery. The first time I had ever been placed under a general anesthetic. I was petrified, only I didn't realize just how petrified I truly was.
Why Elsie? Why would a bad ass, who had dabbled (way to much for her own good to the point of addiction *ahem*) in illegal drugs, be scared in a controlled environment when the drugs were being administered by a professional? A person who has gone to school for 55 years to stick that needle in your arm...or back...or pop that mask over your face. You get my point. (Obviously, I've never attended medical school, nor was I paying attention while being knocked out.)
Thanks to a 20/20 episode I watched a few nights before the surgery I was concerned I would be awake while under anesthesia. The show recounted several instances of people remaining alert but being paralyzed, feeling everything. Hello scary! I like to think of myself as a rational person. I knew that statistically these cases were few and far between and it made for good television. However, the seed of fear must have been planted.
I remember being wheeled into the operating room and speaking with my doctor then the anesthesiologist. I recall telling him about the 20/20 show and he assured me everything was going to me fine. I vaguely recall counting backwards and then nothing again until being back in my room several hours later feeling like I'd been hit by a mack truck. Cool! Surgery over, homeward bound tomorrow!
A man walked in who looked vaguely familiar. "I'm Dr. Anesthesiologist, do you remember me?" Vague images flickered through my foggy memory bank.
"Yes, I think so. Yes, I do!" I exclaimed, then coughed. I found out later about the tube down my throat.
He asked if he could sit on my bed and talk for a minute. I got a bit nervous and nodded in agreement. He explained that he'd been practicing medicine for many years and this was the first time he had come to personally follow up on a patient. Normally he followed up with the patient's doctor to make sure the patient was doing well. He asked if I remembered any part of my conversation with him earlier in the day so I shared what I could recall.
He went on to explain that he had been quite concerned because although I had counted down at which point most patients simply "go under" I continued to question him about whether or not I'd be able to feel anything during the operation. He said that I continued to talk about the 20/20 episode despite the meds he had given me...I kept on talking and talking and talking and to put it kindly, I was being rather, um paranoid, so, they decided to ramp up the dose on my "shut her up" meds.
I think it was very cool that this doctor came by to follow up on me. I wonder if he ever thinks about "that really paranoid chick" and laughs like I do.