At this time last night, I was a giant mass of worry.
My precious friend Monica and my wonderful friend/cousin Tracy lost their grandfather this week. My heart is hurting for their family. Say a prayer for the Nickleson/Hartsell clan. They're good people.
My Grams fell last Friday and has a compression fracture in her back and has been in the hospital since Monday. They decided yesterday to do a surgical procedure to fix that, and surgery on an 80-year-old is a big deal in my book. Plus my moma, paragon of virtue that she is, had been worrying and caring for Grams to the exclusion of all else for over five days, and I was worried about her being so exhausted and emotionally drained and an hour away from home at the hospital. I was also worried about the Popster, who was having to work, take care of Grams's dog, and try to be there for my moma. Things were getting hairy, and I was 300 miles away feeling helpless.
Yesterday, I kept up a near-constant stream of conversation with my lovely sister, who's also a champion worrier, and that communication brought its own set of concerns, including an eighteen-year-old extended family member of Michelle's in-laws who's dealing with cancer, which of course, brought to mind my friend Lauren, who is starting another round of chemo this week. Say some prayers for the Reynolds and Setzler families.
On the one hand, all these hurting and struggling folks gave me some excellent perspective on my life, and suddenly my broken dryer and those Christmas decorations that haven't taken themselves down yet seemed like very small potatoes indeed. Tiny potatoes. But instead of being bogged down in my own worries, I had all these folks making my heart ache.
So I had a good cry, thanked God that I have a fairly flexible job and a really understanding boss, and started packing. I can't fix any of this stuff, but I needed to do something helpful (and the Popster needed me here--and actually said it out loud). I left my house at six this morning and got to the hospital in time to bring lunch and visit with both my favorite girls for a while before they came to get Grams for her surgery.
The surgery was a success, but the doctor observed that her bones are so brittle and thin that the possibility of similar problems in other vertebrae is strong. Grams also doesn't get along so well with anesthesia, so she's not as back to normal as I'd like her to be.
Still I'm glad to be on this side of the surgery and to be here within helping distance. The geography alone has cut my stress level drastically.
The general upheaval of the week has cut into my blogging schedule, so the book review post on which I should be working will have to wait for another day. I think, imaginary reader, that you can handle the disappointment.