Appreciating the View from the Other Side

I may have mentioned before how Dad spent most of every evening of most of my childhood helping me through my math homework.  It was pretty arduous but Dad was unfailingly patient.  If I didn't understand how he explained it at first, he'd come up with a different way.  And if I still didn't get it, he'd come up with yet another way.  And when I cried and wailed that I would never, ever survive, he didn't give up, he didn't walk away, he didn't wash his hands of me.  He just got me through it.

Recently Miriam has needed more help with math homework.  Tonight we spent close to an hour finishing the last eight problems of her homework.  She didn't understand the first two times we went through it and I struggled to come up with a third explanation.  It took a while for her to get it but she finally did. 

During this time I came to appreciate, on another level, what Dad went through with me.  It's tough being the kid doing the homework, not understanding what the teacher said earlier, forgetting the tips in the textbook.  It's a different kind of tough to be the parent who helps.  To see the answer before the problem is finished.  To want the child to understand why the problem works the way it does.  To skirt around what seems like a very obvious answer so the child can figure it out herself.  To wonder if the child really grasps the concept and isn't just nodding and smiling along.  That's tough.

So tonight, while I've always been beyond grateful to my Dad for all his years of math help, tonight I understood from the other side.  And I am even more grateful now that while he was teaching me math, he was also teaching me how to help my own children with their math.  If it weren't for my dad's guidance and excellent example, I wouldn't be able to help my own children.

Thank you, Dad.  I love you.

Surgery Update

So I had surgery.  They put me to sleep and cut open my throat and sucked massive amounts of tissue out of my neck.  Now I have bloody steri-strips across my throat.  How's that for an update?  Sorry, had to get it out of my system.  I occasionally have to fulfill my urges to be crude and graphic.

Anyway, I had the surgery.  It went well, didn't take as long as the surgeon expected, I recovered quickly.  I say recovered but I'm not fully recovered yet.  I still can't turn my head fully from side to side.  That hurts, kind of a lot actually.  I'm not hurting enough to need pain relief any more, though.  I haven't had oxycodone since Sunday afternoon and haven't taken even acetaminophen since yesterday morning.  Pretty sweet, I say.

I was extremely nervous the morning of the surgery.  It didn't help that Paul and I sat in the waiting room and talked about possible outcomes.  Outcomes like, "What if I don't wake up?"  "What if I throw a clot and have a stroke and go into a persistent vegetative state?"  "What if I go into a coma, come out of it and can talk but can't wipe my own butt?"  That's fun stuff to talk about, huh?  Okay, not so fun, but necessary in that situation.  And besides, it did help a tiny bit.  At least at the end of it I was sure that I wouldn't be left lying in a bed with only a feeding tube keeping me alive.  Anyway, we hashed out all the possible scenarios we could and I signed my life (temporarily) into Paul's hands.  And then we both sat and read our respective books (me: Providence by Daniel Quinn, him: Lamb by Christopher Moore) while we waited for the nurse to call me back.

The nurse who prepped me for surgery was cool, if a tad overkill with her whole you're-going-to-be-fine-this-is-so-not-a-big-deal routine. She was a little too hang-ten surfer chick for me.  There was a lot of "dude" and "man" and stuff like that.  But she took very good care of me and I probably would like her very much in another setting.

I met almost everyone who was going to be in on my surgery.  I met the anesthesiologist who was scheduled to put me under but then the schedule changed and I met a new anesthesiologist.  I met a surgical resident who would be coming in to assist my surgeon.  I met the medical student who was coming in to observe.  I met the head scrub nurse and she informed me that there would be a few other nurses in there also.  And then before I knew it I had to kiss Paul good-bye.  The scrub nurse wheeled me down the hall on one of those beds with an IV pole attached to me and a chart lying across my thigh and an elastic paper cap on my head.  I was one of those people -- the sick people.  It was very surreal.

And then I was in a cold operating room and they told me to scoot over onto the operating table.  I almost refused.  For 2 seconds I was paralyzed and I almost said "No, I'm not doing that.  You're going to have to move me because I'm not doing it." But instead I looked at the dozen faces around me, at the massive lights, at the sterile fields surrounding me and at my bed and my table and I said, "Wow, there are a lot of people in here. There's a lot of stuff in here," and I moved to the table. Just about the time I was about to hyperventilate and have a major freak out, the anesthesiologist said, "I'm giving you some meds to make you sleepy." And then I woke up.

Recovery was full of odd sensations.  I could feel something in the vicinity of my throat but it didn't hurt and I was afraid to touch anything for fear of making it hurt.  My eyes were really dry and I couldn't see.  Someone gave me a saline bullet to moisten them.  I wanted to stay awake and look around but I kept falling asleep, despite my best efforts. Apparently things went very well, though because they moved me to post-op after less than an hour and I went home less than an hour after that.

I've spent the week since then slowly increasing my activity and decreasing my meds and feeling pretty good, if a little tired.  I will go back to see the surgeon on Thursday and he should have a final pathology report for me by then.  I'm crossing my fingers that it's all good and this whole thing is behind me now.

During this time I've been reminded, repeatedly, how wonderful my family and friends are.  Jenn and Caleb took over my kids for 48 hours so I didn't have to cope with homework and showers and meals and transportation.  Paul stayed with me, brought me food, pills, water and ice packs.  He reminded me how much medicine to take and when.  He called my family and friends after my surgery and let everyone know that everything turned out well.  People at work have offered me any help I might need, sent me cards and flowers, called to inquire about me, one of them cooked and froze enough food for at least 5 nights of dinners.  My grandparents sent monetary support.  These are all good, good people.  Thank you, all of you.  I really wish there were some way to re-pay you.

We Did It!

The move is finished.  It took most of yesterday and I am exhausted.  Everything hurts.  Today I am unpacking and organizing and settling in.  Yesterday was not fun but I like today.  It's fun to figure out where everything fits and when all of that is done, I get to put things on the walls and prettify the place.  Yay!

Also, a million thanks to everyone who helped.  I truly could not have done this without you -- no way, no how.  Thank you to Jennifer and Caleb, Kim and Blake (and your kick ass trailer!), Paul, Lance (who was too sick to work but not too sick to help me move furniture. :winkwink: ), Lisa and Megan and Lisa's brothers (I'm sorry, I don't remember your names. Please forgive me).  You guys make a girl grateful that she has such awesome family and friends.  Truly.

Coming soon to a blog post near you -- photos of the new place!  Fun!

I Had a Flashback (& Thank You)

Tonight Samuel wanted to tell me about a story his teacher read in class today.  He insisted on telling me every single detail, no matter how small and using voices and expressions like his teacher did.  It took forever.  It took the entire time we ate dinner.  Solomon and Miriam didn't get to talk at all.

While I was spacing out completely listening, I remembered a family dinner many years ago when Jennifer and I told Mom and Dad about a movie we had seen in school.  I think it was called The Million Dollar Duck or something like that and yes, it really was that lame. Anyway, Jennifer and I thought it was terrific and that our parents needed to know every. single. detail.  And we didn't miss any of them.  It took all of dinner and then some, with the two of us alternating parts, interrupting each other and being quite annoying I'm sure.  But Mom and Dad let us go on and on and on.  I don't know how they did it.  They don't even drink.

So anyway, I let Samuel continue because I remember Mom and Dad putting up with our yammering.  That was important to me.  I didn't notice so much then but every time I've thought of it since, I've marveled at my parents' patience in listening to that whole long, boring narrative and not acting the least bit put out or exasperated.  Thank you, Mom and Dad, for doing that.  And for all the other countless, selfless things you did for me as I was growing up.  I know I'll never remember them all or be able to thank you for them.  But thank you.

A Huge Thank You!

I was too tired last night to remember all the people who came over to help me move on Saturday afternoon and evening. I expected a few people, but you all really out-did yourselves. We packed the truck in about 2 hours. I never expected it to get done that quickly. So, thank you to Travis, Michael, David W., Kelly, Luke, Maria, Julie, Niki, Cyndee, Harry and most especially to my dad! I am so grateful to you for all your help.