Undone
It happened so fast. Monday and Tuesday. Where are they? Wednesday? I think I was complaining about the fact that we had a lot to do and didn't have time to get it done. There were some rather unkind words shared with the family and gestures and sounds. Words of obvious disdain and frustration. Why were we so stagnant? Why were we not getting anything done? Things done is what I wanted.
UNDONE.
There is nothing more healing than coming undone. George went to the doctor with stomach pain Wednesday afternoon. At 10:30 p.m. he had an emergency appendectomy. It happened so fast. Now all the things that somehow seemed so important were not even on the radar. It was paused. Call friends for help. Lean heavy on the community to care for the children. Kiss George as he slides down the hall with the surgeons and hope and pray that it will all be okay. It is a routine surgery and it is modern medicine that I am suddenly thankful for. I sit and wait because that is all there is to do. I pray. Friend Kaitie joins me with a coffee. I'm no night owl and it is late. We chat and wait. The call comes to a sleak black phone from the 90s sitting stoically on a nearby table. The doctor tells me he is fine. I can meet him in his room.
He doesn't look fine. He looks like he is in pain. Then George speaks. He is silly. He is hilarious. He is in excruciating pain and trying to make us laugh. And for the next 48 hours, that is all he does. He makes everyone laugh. He makes everyone on his hall feel like a they are the most important person on the planet. I miss him at home, but here he is life to all those around him. And this, I think, is what heals him and the lady across the hall. He just oozes kindness. He isn't concerned about anything but loving everyone that comes by and making them smile. Okay, I take that back. He is concerned about banjos and missing his children. He wants to play his instruments. So he has two banjos and a guitar in his room. Get ready to sing if you're going to visit.
Hopefully I will bring him home today. The only thing that has been done this week is that we have felt an overwhelming sense of love around us, great care from nurses and doctors, and undoneness, which feels good.
UNDONE.
There is nothing more healing than coming undone. George went to the doctor with stomach pain Wednesday afternoon. At 10:30 p.m. he had an emergency appendectomy. It happened so fast. Now all the things that somehow seemed so important were not even on the radar. It was paused. Call friends for help. Lean heavy on the community to care for the children. Kiss George as he slides down the hall with the surgeons and hope and pray that it will all be okay. It is a routine surgery and it is modern medicine that I am suddenly thankful for. I sit and wait because that is all there is to do. I pray. Friend Kaitie joins me with a coffee. I'm no night owl and it is late. We chat and wait. The call comes to a sleak black phone from the 90s sitting stoically on a nearby table. The doctor tells me he is fine. I can meet him in his room.
He doesn't look fine. He looks like he is in pain. Then George speaks. He is silly. He is hilarious. He is in excruciating pain and trying to make us laugh. And for the next 48 hours, that is all he does. He makes everyone laugh. He makes everyone on his hall feel like a they are the most important person on the planet. I miss him at home, but here he is life to all those around him. And this, I think, is what heals him and the lady across the hall. He just oozes kindness. He isn't concerned about anything but loving everyone that comes by and making them smile. Okay, I take that back. He is concerned about banjos and missing his children. He wants to play his instruments. So he has two banjos and a guitar in his room. Get ready to sing if you're going to visit.
Hopefully I will bring him home today. The only thing that has been done this week is that we have felt an overwhelming sense of love around us, great care from nurses and doctors, and undoneness, which feels good.
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