Chapter 11. A Good Day

Let me remember.  GB came home last Friday.  Today is Tuesday, November 26.  Friday through Monday were difficult days for GB.  He had pain and his body had to adapt to its new pressure system.  As I think I’ve mentioned, no one talks much about brain surgery before it happens.  Moderate pain.  Right.  So, GB spent the days in bed.  Prone was his best position.  The minute he sat up or stood up, dizziness would take over.

I reminded him to be patient.  I promised it would get better.  I think I’m telling the truth but really, I don’t know. 

In the meantime, I’m busy.  Cleaning the house. Shopping for a new toilet (long story). Vacuuming and sweeping endless supply of leaves dragged in by Boomer, most recent Newfoundland dog in our custody. Emptying trash.  Picking up dog poop.  Treating myself to a manicure.  That was a good idea.  Cooking. Dishes.  I used to be a good cook and that, too, has diminished.

It all has me thinking about personal tragedies.  Ours doesn’t fall in that category because there are greater tragedies.  And, that’s what I’m thinking about.  What constitutes a personal tragedy worth whining about?  This morning I read a post from a Facebook friend that reminded us what Helen Keller supposedly said “I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet”.   I have to say that quote irritates me.  Of course, there’s always something worse. Goes without saying.  The guy with no feet could complain but then he sees a man with no legs. The guy with no legs sees a guy with no arms or legs.  On and on it goes.  What it really says is not that things can always be worse but that whatever one’s personal tragedy is, it simply isn’t enough for sympathy or empathy.  Just buck it up. My privileged upper middle class has been invaded by aging and infirmity.  I wasn’t expecting it, and I don’t like it.  So, I’m going to complain about it. Now,  there is no point about complaining about all this if I don’t learn something from it because I’m from the lemonade from lemons faction on the planet. Today’s lesson:  I’m going to offer a little empathy to others in similar situations. I’m not going to judge their personal tragedies.  They may not rise to the level of the guy with no feet, but they’re worthy of concern and care.  Molly, if you’re reading, this one is for you. Knee replacement sucks and it hurts.  Hang in there.  Michael will get better and you’ll get your life back.

While I’m on the rant of complaining, I’m going to switch it up and remember to be grateful for all our friends and family who have been generous with their time to bring over a lunch and sit for a chat, or texted, or called.  It’s all appreciated and has given me the energy to do all that needs to be done in my new profession as a candy-striper.   

Ah.  Now, the Good Day!  GB woke up this morning complaining about his neck, his shoulder, his hearing.  Then I asked if he wanted breakfast, and he did.  He waited for me to bring it to him.  “No,” I said. “You have to come here and make it.”  He toddled into the kitchen and informed me again of his aches and pains, that he didn’t sleep all night because he had slept all day and that he was sure he couldn’t hear any better.  I said, quietly, “Fine.  I’ll put the granola together for you.”  He liked that.  Plus, he heard it.  The post-surgical tinnitus was clearing up. He didn’t know that but I did.

After breakfast, I let him know I’d be gone for a couple of hours.  Manicure, dog food, chicken food etc.  Here’s the good part.  I know you’ve been waiting for it and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it.  When I returned, he was still sitting in the chair watching a movie.  He sat up for two hours!  

He did something I learned many years ago when I went through the failed spine surgeries.  He learned that a bad start to the day doesn’t have to taint the entire day.  That lesson is a gift.  It saved my life.  It sustains me still.  He’s learning about his body’s healing power.  

That’s a good day.

Boomer’s good day.