Good News, Bad News, Helpless
I put on real clothes today!
This morning was my follow-up with the surgeon. Being out in public for the first time since Monday morning, I thought it would feel nice to spiff up a bit. I’m under strict orders not to get my bandages wet, so yesterday Anita washed my hair in the utility sink, and today I utilized the pack of body wipes I found in my bathroom drawer (no clue why we have them, but they’re coming in handy this week). It did feel good to be out and about and to not look like a post-op “what to expect” poster.
The really good news — bone placement looks great and no signs of infection. I enthusiastically told the doc about my research, “I read something that said I can do the elliptical, rower, or recumbent bike at three weeks!” Before I could even finish, his response was a firm, “No, none of that.” Orders remain — take it easy, minimize walking, keep the foot elevated, keep the bandages dry. I promised him I would be good. I didn’t undertake this surgery only to screw it up by getting impatient. Plus, I’m highly motivated to “keep the foot elevated” by the intense throbbing that ensues when I’ve been up for just a few minutes. Elevated with ice is my happy place.
The bad news, not really bad in the big scheme of things, is that our refrigerator, not just the freezer, is broken. It’s only two years old and is under warranty, but we have to wait until Monday for an authorized LG repair person to come. Meanwhile, my frozen spinach and bananas for smoothies is in a disgusting, mushy puddle at the bottom of the freezer, never to be used.
Perched in my customary position on the couch this afternoon, I had the chance to listen to a song sent to me by my friend Becky this morning — “The Father, My Son, and the Holy Ghost.” Every word hit home. I cried and clenched my fists. The missing, the pain, is intense, too deep to feel all at once. Maybe clenched fists can contain some of it. It cannot be true that I will never touch Chandler’s sweet face again. I feel it and let it pass. I know there’s nothing I can do to change a thing. Helpless. I listen again to the words…
I know my boy ain’t here but he ain’t gone
Go outside, sit by myself but I ain’t alone
I’ve got the Father, my son, and the Holy Ghost
Amen.
