Lost in the garden this time of year are the remnants of our once beautiful sunflowers. Below freezing temperatures, snow and bouts of icy rain have taken their toll, but they are still stunning to me, beating back these ravishing early days of winter. They remind me of my recent turmoil... I look and feel a bit shaky still, but I know my world is on its way back together. I learned a lot about the resiliency of the human body and spirit. You go through open heart surgery: with a four month lead up, then a 3 week delay caused by an antibiotic that threw your white blood cell count haywire, then it's a 7 day blur of pain, seemingly endless nights of nurses' visits, noise and lights, wires and tubes, adventures creeping down hallways with a walker that makes you feel like you're in your nineties. Now, you're ready to get back home. They all say you're ready: nurses, doctors and friends. Everything is a 'go' except that darn bloodchart... the harsh reality of time. You've been comforted through the week by family, friends and blogmates, and they all have been a part of an endless lifeline, it seems, that streams on forever. Finally, this past Monday, it was home, comfort, recovery and a rebirth.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Lost Sunflowers
Lost in the garden this time of year are the remnants of our once beautiful sunflowers. Below freezing temperatures, snow and bouts of icy rain have taken their toll, but they are still stunning to me, beating back these ravishing early days of winter. They remind me of my recent turmoil... I look and feel a bit shaky still, but I know my world is on its way back together. I learned a lot about the resiliency of the human body and spirit. You go through open heart surgery: with a four month lead up, then a 3 week delay caused by an antibiotic that threw your white blood cell count haywire, then it's a 7 day blur of pain, seemingly endless nights of nurses' visits, noise and lights, wires and tubes, adventures creeping down hallways with a walker that makes you feel like you're in your nineties. Now, you're ready to get back home. They all say you're ready: nurses, doctors and friends. Everything is a 'go' except that darn bloodchart... the harsh reality of time. You've been comforted through the week by family, friends and blogmates, and they all have been a part of an endless lifeline, it seems, that streams on forever. Finally, this past Monday, it was home, comfort, recovery and a rebirth.
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Sixteen hours after the surgery was finished, during the early morning drive to school, I get a phone call while I'm on my cell phone talking to my sister. A voicemail is left.....
ReplyDelete"Hi "Elenka". This is "Birdman"....I'm in recovery mode! They moved me down to R1, 114. They tell me I'm a remarkable case.....but I didn't feel that way at midnight! Love ya." Click
The most beautiful voicemail I ever got.
Welcome home. Coming home after an extended stay in the hospital is like being released from prison. After the first several days it begins to fade into a dream. Welcome home.
ReplyDeleteThere is no place like home!
ReplyDeleteGood to read your posts "in real time" and know you are on the mend.
ReplyDeleteLovely sunflowers - the birds like them even when they're over. Welcome home - so glad you're feeling better.
ReplyDeleteI bet there were moments when you felt exactly like these dear, spent flowers but you ARE a remarkable case and hopefully those moments are now in the past.
ReplyDeleteI hope you're feeling much much better than the sunflower in the picture. Wish you a speedy recovery :)
ReplyDeleteWow, remarkable post. So well written and moving. Glad you're back and recovering. I find this very inspiring! Take care of yourself!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad that you've made so much progress, Birdman. It's always great to get back home. Home, sweet home!
ReplyDeleteI like this ice encased sunflower plant.
Nice post with a significant image, I hope everything is better now!
ReplyDelete