Silent Heroes

Silence. All around me right now, I hear the quiet of my dog stretched out on the rug. The breaths in and out as my husband sleeps in the chair. The fake fire flames quietly dancing in the light. The sun filling the space behind me.  

It is a comfort, this silence. 

In our world filled with chants and gun fire, this silence feels blessed. Like a pause before the next shocking burst of evil. Evil that must be stopped at all costs. I have marched many times in my life for peace and equal rights. I thought we’d all won. I am so mad and sad to see other’s fears kill innocent loving people. 

It is grace, this life.

I sit here heartbroken and hopeful. Terrified and tenderly listening to life with gratefulness. My husband is alive and recovering. A few weeks ago, I was sitting on the floor, begging him to open his eyes. Tapping his face in desperation while I dialed 911. 

He was just making breakfast. I was pouring juice when I felt a nudge, a tingling, an alarm. I looked up and his face was losing color as he stirred the eggs. I went over, put my hands on his upper arms and guided him down. Down to the floor, where he slumped. 

It is strength, this breath. 

They came in with calm strength and went straight to work. Oxygen brought breath back. Monitors checked the beating heart. A woman in uniform asked what happened while others revived him and asked him questions. 

Soon, we were on our way to the hospital. They talked to him in the back. I could hear him respond. They took him to emergency. I was told to go to the waiting room. Soon we were together again in a small room with beeping machines. 

It is relief, this help. 

Of course, there were tests and waiting. But he was awake, talking and getting fluids. He tested positive for RSV, this year’s flu. They found a ‘blip’ on his heart monitor and they wanted to keep him and check it out. So he stayed overnight.

I went home alone. But we texted. He had a good salmon dinner. I managed terrible microwaved eggs and cheese. I cried tears of relief. 

It is still scary, this recovery. 

But we are ok. He eats and reads and walks around the house. Each day picking up the pace and doing stairs. I take his blood pressure and he has sent in his heart monitor. He’s been to his PCP and all is going as expected when you have this flu. 

I am the one who cooks now. We’ve traded off on this task over the years due to work schedules. He’s a much better breakfast cook than I am, but I’m learning. Last year, he had to do it all for me and now, I do it all for him. We’ve always shared the home turf equally.  

It is horrible, this violence all around us. 

But it is it also wonderful, this help from strangers. 

These dedicated men and women who save lives everyday. They are the true heroes. They are true Americans. They are the ones who show us who we truly are with their compassion, courage and strength. 

Goodbye 2024 Word of the Year

 

Every year, I choose a word of the year. I do it to give myself some inspiration and motivation for the coming year. Last year, my word was Move. With all the lifestyle changes that happened both during COVID and after, I need a word to get me going. It seemed like the perfect choice. 

I’d been in the hospital before Christmas that year with an abscess that needed to be drained. It was a scary, unexpected situation and even though I came home from the hospital before Christmas, I had to take it easy and not do or move as much as I usually did. I obeyed the instructions and thought after that all would be well. 

So Move seemed like the perfect choice. 

Not so fast. 

Yeah. This last year was a maze of doctor, urgent care, express care visits with so many different drugs and diagnoses that I was in a constant state of confusion. If you want to know more, read the blog “Easily Dismissed”. 

To say I was in a haze is to put it mildly. I lived with pain and fear. I was low on energy, yet pushed through to move on with my life as best I could. I couldn’t throw clay because it hurt to push the clay around on the wheel. So I made small figures in clay because I could do it sitting down in a comfy chair and rolling out the clay in small batches was manageable. 

I’m moved by those who helped. 

First, my wonderful husband who did the heavy lifting all year. He took over so many of my duties that I could not do. He grocery shopped, cooked and cleaned. He baked up a storm of cookies and treats and meals to keep me eating when I didn’t feel I could. 

My children, adults now with their own families and jobs, stepped up to walk, feed and care for the dog when I was in the hospital. Twice. They, along with friends, brought food and treats and things to keep me busy while I was confined to my bed. They are so wonderful. 

Thank you  to my art supporters from the gallery to the pottery group. It’s because of you that I was able to keep doing what I really love to do and manage to get my art out there. With the help of my husband doing the hauling and lifting and driving, I did Ceramics Showcase and sold a few things. Best of all, I had a gallery and a wonderful supportive owner and staff who wanted my work and worked with me to make it possible and sold it too!!

And a big thank you to the doctor and nurses and aides at St. Vincent Hospital, I was finally diagnosed correctly. Yes, I had a major but much needed surgery. And I went home finally, whole and healthy and able to really move on.