Friday, August 2, 2019

{bust, busy, busy}

All I can say is that hospital corridors are very long. The floor my husband is on, the transplant floor, is inaccessible to the general public, as are 2 other floors. Not sure what goes on there, but we have to use elevators tucked past the surgical waiting room, down a long hallway. The public elevators are set to not stop on those, private floors. This is my first experience with this sort of security feature. And the elevator spaces are marked "area of refuge" with doors at their entrances that can be shut in case of terrorist attacks.

What have we become?

Anyway this wing of the hospital is brand new. Still hanging artwork down the halls. Still needing scissors to cut hangtags off of metal trashcans, but all beautiful and shiny. It feels so clean.

Hoping my husband can come home tomorrow.  He's still in considerable pain, mostly from his back. No incisions there, but bed lying discomfort. He has a slight curvature of the spine, thanks to his mom's genes, so any lying about causes pain after awhile. He has trouble getting into a comfortable position. This is all the time.

So, today our youngest son and daughter will go with me to clean the church for Sunday and cut the grass there. (Our daughter is excited about using the riding lawn mower in the church's backyard. Simple pleasures.) In addition to being self-employed with his woodworking business, my husband is caretaker/property manager at our church. We're filling in while he's down. It will be a busy rest of the summer! Figure if I offer up an exclamation point, I'll fool myself into thinking this part of an ordinary day.

Prayers appreciated for making this work, and not allowing the overwhelmedness to overtake us. It feels like too much, taking on his tasks on top of an already cluttered life.

And, turns out, middle daughter flies out to California in less than two weeks, staying a minimum of 6 months, longer if the job and lifestyle fits. She'll also nanny our son's baby due after Christmas. Speaking of busy.

I crave slow living, a new catch phrase among mindfulness aficionados.  I'll have to grab snatches of it when I can and my painting helps, but I have to make myself stop and pick up a brush. Easy to become to blown away from this whole process we're currently experiencing.

Oldest daughter shared with a friend about the transplant situation, and he made her laugh when he commented on our family not being normal.

He has a valid point.