My photo
mommy. wife. teacher. yogini. writer. coffee drinker. aunt. crocheter. reader. dog lover. scattered. methodical. rational. irrational. paranoid. annoyed. lost. found. content. searching. peaceful. i am constantly in search of my story. the one i have never happened. the one i've lived i cannot write.

04 March 2009

chapter 8.

chapter 1.
chapter 2.
chapter 3.
chapter 4.
chapter 5.
chapter 6.
chapter 7.

chapter 8.
my first thank you.

the two days between surgeries ran together
like watercolor on thin paper.
everything blurred
little was clear.
i was in and out of consciousness between percocets and morphine.
i had become increasingly uncomfortable in the labor and delivery bed
never quite getting the inclines and the reclines to match up very well.
the only food i could stomach was toast and grilled cheese with tomato soup.
bill felt it was a great waste of such a diverse menu.

flowers continued to pour in.
cookie bouquets.
stuffed animals.
i was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support we received
especially considering i had never regarded myself as a social butterfly.
or a great co-worker.
or an outstanding teacher.

yet, i was the most popular person on the labor and delivery floor.

by day two i had vowed to be nicer and more considerate of those around me
and to never again take for granted the people in my life.
those days
that week
really drove home for me
who was important in our lives
and whose lives we were important in.

of those who were important
family was at the top of the list.
my parents
my sister
my brother-in-law
my parents-in-law
everyone was there everyday
making the 45-minute drive first thing in the morning
and staying until evening each day.

my mom knew just what to do
damp washcloths
combing my hair
putting lotion on my feet
adjusting my pillow.
i knew then
and know even more now
how difficult it was for her to watch me
day in
day out
hit the morphine button
and close my eyes
and wait.

my dad would bring the paper
get me another sprite
hold the straw to my lips
and sit
and wait
and hold my hand when it hurt so bad
and quietly flip through the channels
and wait for the next doctor to come in.

my sister
bless my sister
she made sure i stayed clean.
shower cap hair treatments
and sponge baths.
she even emptied my urine once
when all the other nurses were busy.
people magazine
us weekly
she made sure i knew what was going on in the world outside.

my husband.
words aren't enough.
our vows were pushed to the limit.
in sickness...
he never flinched.
never blinked.
he watched monitors.
he watched my IVs.
he watched the time.
he watched my belly.
he watched my sprite.
he watched my wound vac.
he watched me sleep.
he watched me hurt.
he watched
and watched
and watched.

and more than once
a day
an hour
a minute
i thanked god
that he was my husband
my partner.
the cheese to my macaroni.
the oreo to my milk.
the hand i reached for.

sweet man of mine
there are no words.
i will love you
and into the next lifetime.

another turn in the road
just ahead...

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