Reflection

Reflection

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Peace Never Felt So Fine

     I hear my name called, softly, several times.  I utter something like "yes", but I really want to just be in the state I am in.  Peace.  Again my name.  Hhhhmmm...my thoughts...what?  My eyes closed I just want to enjoy this separate space of peace.  Complete peace.

     The voice wants to know if I want water.  Well, that does sound nice.  I have a vague ability of how to sip water from a straw.  How did I know how to do that?  How did I know the straw was near my mouth?  I sip. Nice.  Back to my twilight world.  Thank you.

    The voice comes once more.  Water.  Yes.  Sip.  "Ellen time to get dress."  Okay.  I have no memory truly of the process but then again I do.  I hear the voices talking..."oh here is her sling".  "Well, we have this one on her already".


     "Your daughter is here Ellen".  I think okay.  I attempt to open my eyes and see my K. through blurry eyelids.  


      "Ready to go home?"  I was enjoying the peace, the nothingness.  Home?  That does not register in my peaceful state.


     My upper body is lifted to an upright sitting position.  I open my eyes and utter my deepest "thank you" to the nurses.  Really.  They all have been so kind and gentle.


    I hear the voice talking to my daughter about what I should do once I leave.  What to expect in the next so many hours.  Blah, blah, blah...I was so enjoying the peace.


    The voice says it is time to get into the wheelchair and amazingly my legs follow her directions.  Wow!  The door to sunlight hits my eyes like coming out of a very dark room.  Assaulted.  The jarring of the wheelchair wheels on the pavement wakes me more and I at last truly open my eyes.  The peace has begun to fade to reality.  I had surgery.  Yes.  It is over.  Yes.  I am going home now.  Yes.

     Guess it all went okay.  


     The drive home with K. driving and B. in the passenger side, I on the backseat.  I feel like a little kid as I remember being buckled in.  I didn't do that.  Who did?  I gaze down at my arm in a navy blue sling.  Not the one I came in.  It seems too small or my new setup is larger.  Did the nurse say something about my arm being numb?  I remember that Dr. L. said that following surgery my arm would be numb from the elbow down for up to 8 hours or more.  Oh that must be why my fingers don't move.  Weird.  

     There is some chatting between us all but now I don't have a memory of any of it.  When we arrive home I am able to manage getting out of the car and the ability to climb upon my high bed.  K. tucks me in.  She asks if I want anything.  Water or tea?  I don't remember now.  I wanted toast, lightly buttered.  B. brings me two slices that I savor.  The best toast I have had I think to myself.  B. is my hero.  He knew what to do when I fell and now he knows how to make me toast!  I realize I am quite loopy.
   

2 comments:

Ms. Moon said...

And what a nice sort of loopy and the being-taken-care-of-while-you-are-loopy!
Ah. That perfect toast. I can taste it.
I'm so glad the surgery went well.

Sara Louise said...

Being taken care of when your loopy is the best! It feels so safe and comforting :-)

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