Grace Under Pressure

It's almost impossible for me to believe that I have not posted since June. But there was Wes's bike accident. My mom's GI bleed which required three pints of blood. My dad's prostate cancer diagnosis. My mom's surgery.

Every day during the entire month of June I whispered to myself: "Grace under pressure." I said this as I drove to the Emergency Room to be with Wes. Someone opened a car door as he was riding his bike. The corner of it went through his chest, broke some ribs, bruised his lung.

He had called me from his cell phone and I could hear the ambulance sirens in the background. "Oh, here they are," he said cheerfully. "I'll call you from which ever ER they take me to."

I had a great dinner ready: nice wine, marinated chicken ready for the grill, cheese and bread to start, fresh vegetables. He was five minutes from home when he hit the door.

When I got to ER I asked, "Oh, honey, what were you thinking about when this happened?"

"Dinner."

As many of us know, the ER ironically has a reputation for the slowest service in the world unless you have chest pain or are seriously bleeding. Wes said they made a big fuss over him at first and then nothing for hours. Finally a CT scan. "You have to stay overnight," they said.

I went home at 1 a.m. and behold! Someone left me a nice assortment of cheese and fresh bread! I had forgotten to put it away. So I ate some cheese and bread and opened the wine and drank a glass of that too. The whole time the dog is looking at me like, "What's with the new hours?"

It turned out they wouldn't suture the wound because it was considered "dirty" so Wes had to pack it twice a day with saline-soaked gauze. He was in a world of hurt for a few weeks, but yesterday, for the first time he went without any kind of bandage.

It's a miracle how the body knows how to heal itself.

More in another post about the urgent trips to California.