So I’ve got the marching orders. I will be marching into the hospital on Monday, April 16 for surgery and will be in the hospital for 3 or 4 days. After that, there will be recovery at home.
That means people will be “on my turf.” I’m a very territorial, very independent person. I don’t like other people cooking in my kitchen and taking care of jobs that are supposed to be mine. (Heck, I don’t even like people drinking out of my glass. My husband completely doesn’t get that, but that’s how I am.)
The night after I met with my surgeon, I had all these dreams about people being in my way. I couldn’t do anything–even go to sleep–without having people in my path. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what that was about.
The territory thing, and the needing-assistance thing, are a much bigger concern to me than the actual medical reasons behind this surgery. I hate asking anyone for help. I hate that I will need help (a good bit of it, most likely). I hate that someone else is going to have to drive the kids, cook the meals, wash the laundry, sweep the floor. Sometimes my own kids will be helping with some of those jobs. Some of them will fall to TheDad. And my mom has already announced that she’ll be here for a week.
The last time she came here to help me after surgery, she scrubbed my floor on her hands and knees. I hated that. If she does it again, I will hate it again. I know that in the scheme of things I am very, very blessed to (a) still have a mom, (b) have a mom healthy enough to help me, (c) have a mom who is currently in her 3rd or 4th retirement (clearly she is Bret Favre’s role model in this regard) so she’s free to come and help me, (d) have a mom who wants to come and help me, and (e) have a dad who’s willing to drive Mom 125 miles each way so she can come and help me.
I’m really not much in the mood, right now, to let perspective get in the way of my pity party. Except for the cleaning-of-the-house part, I’m going to miss what I do for my family. I’m going to miss the cooking and the laundry (especially now that I can hang it outside again) and planting my little herb garden since I was partially successful with it last year and even the driving. I’m going to miss the writing, since I’m taking some time off from my freelance jobs while I recover. I’m going to miss playing and singing at church, since Easter was the last time I’ll get to do that for a while.
I was reminded today that allowing others to help me opens the door for them to receive grace through their practice of the corporal works of mercy. I guess, right now, that is as good as it’ll get.
Meanwhile, you are not allowed in my kitchen until after I walk out of here on Monday. It is my territory, and I will chase you.