Like it or not, I have to face the limitations of this bright red cast and the intermittant searing reminders it gives me. Like it or not, I can’t type like I want to, even though there’s plenty to say and lots of subject matter rattling around in my brain. (So blogging will be light til I’m used to this and not so sore.) Like it or not, my house is going to be trashed for a while (a bit worse than usual). Like it or not, I have to take a nap, I have to elevate my arm (which means sitting still), and I have to pop pills (thankfully, Motrin’s doing the trick, when I remember to take it).
Like it or not, the world won’t stop just because I’m laid up for a few days. Like it or not, I get a dose of humility and gratitude for the meals, the offers of help, and the support. Like it or not, I was sent a bright red cast. Maybe it’s my reminder to stop and smell the roses, to stop my everlasting multi-tasking, to slow down and enjoy the moment, while it lasts.
It turns out I’m already thanking God for the bright red cast. Toddler-tron is OK (the sinus and bladder and diarhea things were not a result of the fall). I am OK. I’m on the second night of good eating, with a few more to come. I’ve had a couple of “I’ll be right over with ____” incidents, along with a healthy dose of just gratefully accepting the help.
You’ll take TT for the day? God bless you. Thank you. I will nap and elevate the arm. You’ll come over and do a few loads of laundry? God bless you. Thank you. I will make tea and chat and thank God for you. You’ll make me dinner? God bless you. Thank you. I will eat it, and appreciate it, and return the favor. You’ll pray for me? God bless you. Thank you. That’s what will get me through this!
I’ve been wondering today if Jesus ever broke his arm. (What would Jesus do? Miraculously cure it, of course!) I’ve also been thinking of what pain it must be for parents who watch their children go through things much worse than this, and how much they must need Mary to hold them, comfort them, help them. I have been talking to her A LOT this week, and wondering what I would do if I didn’t have her over my shoulder.
I have also been playing “what if” with myself. What if we had fallen the whole way? What if she had cracked her skull? What if I had broken my hip? What if Bob had not been there? What if I had cracked my skull? What if one of us had died? Yeah, that’s not a good game. And when I catch myself doing it, I pause and say thanks to God. It could be worse. It could be WAY worse.
And how can I not like my cool red cast? Bonus: it’s waterproof. They don’t usually do that the waterproof ones the winter here in chilly Ohio, but the doc took pity on me. Now, once I get used to it, I can still do dishes, bathe TT, take a shower myself.
PLUS I’m going to have some pretty cool autographs. Oh yeah. It could be WAY worse!