I spent the morning yesterday in a hospital waiting room. My husband was there for same-day, minor surgery. I drank a lot of coffee, prayed the Rosary, and tried to ignore the overly-loud, overly-large TVs. I was nervous, of course, but not very worried, because we’d been told so many times that it was ” probably nothing.”
I should have known that my uncharacteristic optimism was misplaced.
I kept thinking to myself that it would be No Big Deal, all the while in denial of just how easily No Big Deal can turn into a Very Big Deal Indeed. Minor can go to major in less time than it takes to spell my last name. And your whole world turns upside down as the surgeon says those 3 words nobody wants to hear.
As we try to let it all sink in, as we think of how to find the words to make the kids understand, we simultaneously scribble down specialists’ phone numbers on Post-It notes and assemble folders full of referrals, test results and form after form after form after form.
It is all these details, I think, that will make me crazy and at the same time keep me from going crazy. If I concentrate on the details, I won’t have to think about the big picture. I don’t want to see the forest for the trees.
We will have to wait more than a week before the next step can be taken, before all the results are in and appointments can be made with just the right doctors. And all those other minor-league problems we’ve been dealing with? We’re not feeling the need to deal with those just now. Can we please just put that stuff on the back burner for a while?
One thing at a time, Lord. It’s hard to turn this over when I want to take the ball myself and run with it. I’m a ball-hog in that regard, just as much as some of the hotshots on Little Brother’s soccer team. It’s hard to turn it over because if I abandon it, if I relinquish the control I try to hard to maintain, I might just go to pieces when it is least convenient.
Mom doesn’t get to fall apart, you know. That’s a rule. And if nothing else, I’m a rule-follower.
Even–perhaps especially–when our world has just been turned upside down.
Pray for my husband, if you would; for his doctors; for the kids and for me as we negotiate this new and scary road.
And thank you to Barbara for the beautiful Rosary!
12 thoughts on “Upside Down”
I am so very sorry that you are going make this very tough journey. I wish I could bring you a pot of soup, and that a pot of soup would make it all better. I will pray for you, your husband, your family, and the physicians.
I am so sorry to hear this, Barb, and you can always be assured of my prayers. You and yours are going on The Rosary List. Wish I was closer to do something more corporal!
Will be praying for you and your family. I am so sorry that this has happened and although I live in Indiana, please let me know if there is anything at all I can do.Praying for you all,Bean
Oh, Barb, Prayers are with you and your family during this difficult time!
Prayers, Barb. I'm so sorry your family has to go through this.
Oh hon. I'm so very sorry. My love and prayers. You know how to find me if you ever need to just type/talk.Love, and prayers.
Prayers and hugs. I'm here to help.
You and your family are in my prayers. Someone this summer told me I was such a rock (when I thought I was going to lose my husband) and I told her – God is the rock and I am just holding on!Hold on to the Rock, Barb. Hold on.
I will be praying for all of you. I'm sorry for this trial.
I’m so sorry, Barb. Is this a situation for St. Peregrine? I will keep your family on my “short list” this week. Wishing you God’s peace.
Thank you, Heidi; this was reposted a year later as I think you discovered. But we do appreciate the prayers as we come up on that 1-year inspection in a few weeks!
Oh my! You are all in my prayers xxxx