If someone says, "Wow, I haven't been sick in such a long time," that person had better go start gargling Listerine, Clorox Wiping everything in sight, and take a few days of preventative leave vacation. That person is going to get hit hard.
If someone says, "My child has never done anything like that," she can expect a call from the vice-principal explaining that her first grade son was caught stealing a classmate's Capri Sun and needs to replace it (not that this has ever happened to anyone I might know--or be...).
And now I know that I should never say out loud that everything is going so well. It's like shouting out, "Hey! I'm an open target! Right here!" I am college educated, religious, and not altogether prone to believing in lucky charms or amulets, but I cursed myself.
I still feel that I am blessed, and I am still happy, but now I am being blessed in a different way.
After that conversation with my husband I had plenty of time to forget that I had cursed myself. That's kind of how things like this happen. I had gotten busy in my church and my children's school. I was walking all over our town with a very dear friend. Then my hip started giving me trouble.
I have a lot of osteoarthritis that had necessitated my first hip replacement nearly six years ago (I'm now 44 years old, and you can do the math--I was young). During that time I had a toddler boy (who just might be the Capri Sun thief) who loved to strip down to his Thomas the Tank Engine underwear and run down the street to find a little entertainment. I would get a call, "Hey Jill. I've got your little guy on my trampoline." "Oh, thanks. I was in the shower and he just disappeared". "Um Jill, he's only in his underwear, and he won't come to me". Yes! Another trip hobbling down the street with my attractive and trusty walker to try and bribe him home with candy (I'm not proud of that time in my life:). Fun times.
I recovered from that first hip replacement with little difficulty, but five years later I started having a lot of pain in the same hip. After several tests, we learned that my body was reacting to the metal-on-metal hip, and I would need to have a revision done.
My mom was going in to have a knee replacement that summer, and I purposely timed my surgery for the week after her surgery because she was not well, and I worried that surgery might be difficult for her. I felt as though a week would be enough time for me to be able to know if I should cancel my surgery and go help her.
She had her surgery, seemed to be doing as well as could be expected, and had been discharged when I went in to have my surgery; there were a few complications with mine. The surgeon had found a large, non-cancerous tumor surrounding the metal hip, and the bone around the cup was seriously damaged. The doctor ended up having to place bone grafts to try and stimulate the bone growth into the new socket.
While I was still in the hospital, I learned that my mom had contracted pneumonia and was also experiencing kidney failure. She ended up in the hospital after she passed out on my dad.
After about two weeks of exhausting herself trying to breathe, she was placed on a ventilator to give her a break. Our family was given enough time to gather to her bedside in South Carolina. I was still recovering and unable to travel to see her when I received a call from my dad. He was telling me Mom wasn't doing too well. It was a painful conversation. I knew that she wouldn't be with us much longer.
Just after I hung up with my dad, I was sitting in my chair looking out the window and praying for strength to get through this new set of trials. I looked up at the most heavenly view of the sun breaking through the clouds. I felt as though the Lord smiled at me at that moment and was telling me that He would walk me through this dark night.
Here is a picture of that view I looked up at that I took on my phone right then. (Please excuse the limits of my technical prowess. I know there is this thing called photoshop, but I'm just proud to get a picture from my phone to my email to my blog).
She passed away that week. I had the blessing of being able to Facetime with my family when they removed the ventilator and sat with her as she left this life. My brother-in-law-to-be put his iPad connected to me through Facetime on a shelf where I could be a part of the hymns and prayers. It was a sweet, agonizing experience to sit on my recliner a country away and be with my family during that time.
I remember praying the day before she passed away. I was hurting so much. I missed my family and being close to my sisters and brother and parents. I asked that I wouldn't have to be alone that day. I just needed some sisters to be with me, but being new in this area, I didn't know whom to call. That day was amazing. My sweet friend, Jeanette, came to sit with me. I had enough plates of cookies dropped off that day to fill my cookie jar for weeks (Mormons bake cookies for each other. It's kind of an unspoken commandment that if your friend is having a bad day you go give her high-calorie love).
Our piano teacher and her daughter came to sing and play for me (they also brought cookies). They sang, "Bring Him Home" and "Be Still My Soul"--two songs I'll never hear without tears in my eyes again; I was so touched. It was a day when I felt as though the windows of Heaven were opened in my life. I felt the Hand of God through the love of others.
I felt the love continue through that week. One wonderful lady in my church congregation brought over a gift card for a plant that I could plant in my mother's memory. That meant a lot to me. My best friend, Jen, drove up and brought me lunch to eat while she painted my toenails! (Sometime I'll figure out how to post a link to her blog for her toenail painting business). I am thankful for those who gave of themselves for me.
I remember praying the day before she passed away. I was hurting so much. I missed my family and being close to my sisters and brother and parents. I asked that I wouldn't have to be alone that day. I just needed some sisters to be with me, but being new in this area, I didn't know whom to call. That day was amazing. My sweet friend, Jeanette, came to sit with me. I had enough plates of cookies dropped off that day to fill my cookie jar for weeks (Mormons bake cookies for each other. It's kind of an unspoken commandment that if your friend is having a bad day you go give her high-calorie love).
Our piano teacher and her daughter came to sing and play for me (they also brought cookies). They sang, "Bring Him Home" and "Be Still My Soul"--two songs I'll never hear without tears in my eyes again; I was so touched. It was a day when I felt as though the windows of Heaven were opened in my life. I felt the Hand of God through the love of others.
I felt the love continue through that week. One wonderful lady in my church congregation brought over a gift card for a plant that I could plant in my mother's memory. That meant a lot to me. My best friend, Jen, drove up and brought me lunch to eat while she painted my toenails! (Sometime I'll figure out how to post a link to her blog for her toenail painting business). I am thankful for those who gave of themselves for me.
It has been six months since my mother's passing and almost seven since my surgery. I am still having a great deal of pain with my hip. We are waiting to get in to see a specialist to figure out what is going on in there. I use a walker or crutches to help me get around. I now have my own handicap sticker, but so does everyone else--we joke that it is a consolation gift from the State of Utah for all sixty-fifth birthday sufferers, so it doesn't always do me a lot of good.
I am learning to do my house work, the cooking and cleaning, and mothering with a disability. I am learning to reframe my worth based on the kind of person I am becoming, not how much I can do in a day. I am learning to be grateful for the small things that happen everyday to remind me that God lives and He is intricately aware of our needs.
This is life, and I love it.
