You Never Know Until You Try.
My apologies that I haven't blogged in a while. When I did part 1 of "Letting Go and Letting God," I had no idea that there would be a part 2, much less a part 3, which there may be. I haven't decided yet. I thought I was on the mend from my bout with “the crud.” Alas, that wasn’t the case. I ended up with a sinus infection, which meant another round of antibiotics. Then I had oral surgery, which had been postponed for 2 weeks while I had “the crud,” last Thursday. I’ve had lots more time on the sidelines. I’ve gotten more sleep and more time just lying in bed thinking of nothing but how much I wanted to be—and feel— well again.
And so here I am, 2 days shy of 5 weeks since this whole saga of sidelining sickness (say that fast 3 times, will you?) began. I’ve had lots of reminders of how much I’m loved: friends have called, sent cards, and brought care packages. The big reminder came last Thursday after my surgery.
I drove myself to and from the procedure 25 miles away, intending to return home, take the prescribed pain medication, and probably sleep until noon the next day. No big deal. But as Steinbeck said, the best laid plans . . . The reality was that I couldn’t seem to stop bleeding, and I was fast succumbing to the sedating effects of the pain medicine. So I did what any other independent middle-aged woman might do—I called my mommy and daddy. After all, it’s scary to discover that you can’t stop bleeding when you live alone and are doped on medicine that’s making you woozy, feeling that you may fall asleep at any moment. I was freaked out, so I reached out.
Thankfully only a few miles separate my house and my parents’ house. Mother picked me up, and I ended up spending the next 2 nights with her and Dad. I finally got the bleeding stopped Thursday night, after a good 6 or 8 applications of damp tea bags to the surgical site, and I guess the adrenaline from my freak-out kept me from conking out until I’d been at my folks’ an hour or more. When I did sleep, though, I was out a good 15 hours or so.
I awoke Friday hung-over but not bleeding or in too much pain. I started bleeding again once, but it didn’t last long. I could’ve gone back home, but my retired parents, Mother especially, were glad to have me around. Since I’d been sick for so long, I hadn’t visited in quite a while, and it turned out to be a good visit, considering. We didn’t do anything major; we just hung out, talking and watching TV. Dad took me home late Saturday afternoon, and we’ve kept in touch by phone since then.
I was glad to have the time with my parents, even under those circumstances. God knew that I would need their assistance, and He gave me the sense to reach out and ask for their help. I wish I could say that I hadn’t freaked out, but at least I reached out too, and I got the help I needed. Ask, and you receive.
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