During the last six weeks, I have taken a hiatus from life, as my life changed dramatically. I have come face to face with the fact that I cannot do everything, I cannot be everything to everyone, I cannot accomplish tasks that used to be easy, and I cannot be the capable one in the room. I have suffered a severe attitude adjustment.
My pre and post surgery words I’ve read say it’s all temporary. But my body and mind have succumbed to the truth that I have been in others’ care, under others’ direction, and have had to learn to be waited upon, talked about in whispers, accommodated, and otherwise dismissed as somewhat useless. I have felt like one of my houseplants–there but absent, thought about as a fixture needing care and attention, and otherwise a mere fixture to be fussed over a bit, then dismissed to the background while “real life” continued.
Part of it was timing. My kids, teachers, were on break between the old school year and the one which begDuring ins tomorrow with the first day of school for their students. The last week has been full of tranitions. I’m beginning to matter again as I must be able to assume my usual role as I have in the past. I begin to “count” again.
My husband and daughter have done the meal planning, the shopping, the care of the house, and ignored the other roles that I usually have assumed: cleaning the toilets, cleaning out the refrigerator, making sure all the meals are nutritionally balanced, entertaining the grandchildren when parents have needed me, and running errands. In the days gone by where we evaluated how field trips at school went, there was always the significant sigh, “Nobody died!” That was the measure of success.
Today I start resuming my duties. Since a fateful call in mid July, “We can do your surgery on July 18th!” things have been in the aforementioned crisis period. I had been told the date would be September 25th, so thought I had preparation time to get everything accomplished before surgery to replace my damaged right hip. Even though I was hobbling in pain, I managed to plan, I thought, so that all would be easy as I transitioned from stumbling mama to sedentary patient. Then the time frame changed.
The house had to be prepared. I had no chair with arms so I would be able to stand and sit without bending my body more than 90 degrees. A grab bar had to be added to the bathroom. Rugs and wires and trip hazards had to be addressed. I had to bathe with special soap for three days; sheets had to be changed three times the same week. I had bloodwork done, a special visit with my primary care doctors (she had no open appointments so met me at 8:00 before her busy day to accommodate my needs), and my daughter shopped on line for easy fitting clothing and other necessities. Before I knew it, the whirlwind experience ended and 5:30 a.m. arrival the day of surgery had arrived.
I must say that God’s grace has abounded. When I consider the literally dozens of people who surrounded me with care, concern, expertise, and helpful attitudes, plus all the amazing scientific and medical intricacies required, my “team” was a mazing. I cannot say enough to applaud those who have cared for my needs. I am not used to being the center of attention. It’s a hard role for me to play. I am usually the nurturer. I have been blessed.
Life outside my real did continue. I hobbled through three birthdays in our family, our granddaughters’ violin recital, and family gatherings when I did none of the meal preparation.
On the other hand, I found myself retreating into a shell, much like a turtle, with little interest in anything except my comfort or discomfort, my careful steps from the day of surgery until my release from the hospital a mere 30 hours after my arrival, my use of a walker, my meeting and following directions from my home health team of several nurses and therapists, and my days of blurred thought under meds designed to make me a vegetable except for 20 minutes of daunting physical therapy burst which left me exhausted. Pills for pain, pills to sleep, pills for nerves, pills for free-flowing blood, pills I never took, pills for nausea I never, thank God,, experienced, and reminders to wiggle my toes, don’t bend at the waist, let’s see how you can get into and out of bed, and how much water did you drink today? What I discovered, now exactly three weeks out, is that everything that used to be normal has been modified into little baby steps, and I really have had to learn to live very differently now.
Today, I’m taking over. I have discovered I can walk without a walker, without a cane, I can get dressed without my
picker-upper device that does the reaching for me, that I can (and have been able for a week or so) get into and out of my high bed without a step stool, I can get into and out of the car with relative ease, and I can stand for an hour at Guest Services at church. I can eat out at a restaurant, I can babysit my granddaughters so the teachers in my family can get back to in-service work without concern for Emily and Kaley, and I can even prepare a meal or two.
No, I’m not doing the food shopping yet. Can’t face that task. But, I can truly answer the question, what’s for dinner, because I will somehow get it planned and prepared. I can convert all my gardens to grass. I have friends coming to rehome my beloved plants to their yards. I can return books to the library (with assistance. I can’t drive yet), and I can resume my blogs.
Mostly, I can be an encourager to another loved one facing the same surgeon’s restrictions next week. I can with great confidence tell her that she is all right in giving up control for a season. She, like I, has been a nurturer, the one who did the problem solving, cared for her family well, as I have, and can, for a season give up control. It’s hard, but I have learned that others appreciate being able to help carry the load. “Nobody died!” and tasks have been accomplished, but now I’m ready to begin anew and come out of my turtle shell and start living again.
Many thanks for the cards, flowers, care, love, visits, and well-wishes. I probably could have written tons of thank you notes, but I hope I’m forgiven for my self-absorption for this short season. Next weekend I’ll volunteer for the Space Coast Symphony’s production of Sound of Music, and I eagerly anticipate Guest Services and groundbreaking for our new church building on the 21st and our daughter’s birthday celebration on the 23rd. Yes, life will continue, and I will be walking proudly on my new leg once I recover from six weeks of intense PT. Yes, I can do this; yes, I will, and with thanksgiving for modern medicine, those who have blessed me, and those I’ve relied on through this season. A grand hug.
About the Author
