Let the whining begin

I love my dear husband so much that the other day I remarked , “Every day with him is an Anniversary.” Speaking of anniversaries, it is time for his routine colonoscopy. Ugggggg.

For two days, he has his liquid diet all planned and ready to go, so to speak. I have been able to detect by the sound of his voice that he is planning a vacation out of the recovery period from the optic search. I am trying to steel myself to a weekend of servitude for the cause. I am so glad he is doing this important procedure and I need to be as brave as he is but after seeing how he handled the two he has had in the past , I just can’t bring myself to endure the event on a personal level. I know I must. He so sweetly reminds me it is now time to take care of the business of my life and make the call.

So, as much as I know he will be back to normal soon, I dread the sound of the little crystal bell, we use to communicate “needing something” when we are bedridden with the usual ailments. It is just one of those quaint little follies we have developed over the years to make sickness have a brighter side.

Anyone that knows me will tell you I am a tyrant of a nurse. IT is NOT my calling. My dear Mom had carotid artery surgery and she recouped at my house. I let her rest for a day or two and then had her walking at Jemison Park on day three. Within a week she was walking a mile a day on the wood side of the trail. Y’all know the part I am talking about, the one with the hills. She cussed me a blue streak but she was better faster. Maybe, on second thought, it was her desire to get back to her house that made all the difference. Who knows, but I think it was my nursing skills that sped her recovery. No, Mom I am not going to put up the pictures of your after surgery makeover. Whew! Now that would be harsh. Nor will I share the whole story of you telling me as they were wheeling you to surgery to call “Ian” and , “Tell Him to send me a fruit basket.”  Ever the do-good daughter, I called the poor man’s  number only to discover it was the personal cell phone of the  Mayor of her small town in  Sheffield, Alabama. He responded with the biggest laugh you have ever heard and some funny remarks that I will keep private. He is a great guy! Nor Mom, will I give your secret away about how it surprised even you when your condition improved so rapidly that you had to invent and muster a rather pitiful voice to the well-wishers that called during your recuperation. When I overheard you saying, ” Oh a nice new orchid would be lovely.” I knew it was time to haul your recouping rear to the walking trail. Milking it for all it is worth is a normal response to those that have endured medical science up close and in a personal way.

So with that experience and the fact I love the crazy stuff my husband says after he wakes up from surgery, I am looking forward to the event. Just don’t ring that crystal bell and ask me to lug up a new television up the stairs  like you the last time, Honey. I might whine, or get a glass of wine.

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