I have a friend who works with Hospice in her town. A very tough thing to do. I’m not sure I would be able to do that kind of work. I know I’d get emotionally attached and it would be very hard to watch someone I’ve come to care about slip away in front of me.
Considering you’re suppose to be there to help the patient and their family through what is probably the toughest time in their lives, it’s probably not a good thing to be falling apart along with them.
It takes a brave person to take on that kind of work. My friend certainly is that. She’s a beautiful soul with a great deal of compassion and caring. And her story about a recent “client” that she shared on Tuesday got me thinking about my own thoughts that whirled through my head all during the day as well.
When we care about someone and hear that something has happened to them, we often want to “do” something to help and ease the burden. This might be more true for women, as we often have that “mothering” instinct. But I’m sure men have it too in their own way. I do know many guys who are very sensitive when it comes to their own children. But that nurturing, want to take care of you, kind of feelings; well I’ll simply say it…I think it’s female thing!
One of my most favorite people in the world was seriously hurt Monday night. He’s the only person my Man ever has to worry about me leaving him for. And since I don’t personally know Tony Stewart, nor would he be interested in me, I’m fairly sure my Man has nothing to worry about. But he’s the only person who could take me away from my Man.
All day I was thinking I wish I could be there to offer comfort and take care of Tony. It’s not possible, of course. But that doesn’t stop me from being concerned and feeling a desire to help. It’s in times of distress that we need people who care about us to be there. Especially when we’re feeling vulnerable and need someone we can trust. So many people confide in me, tell me some of their deepest and darkest secrets, because they know they can trust me. It’s one of the best things about my reputation that I honor the most. It’s not a responsibility to me, so I don’t consider it a burden. It’s simply…well, me..what I do, part of who I am. Blah blah…anyway.
My Mom is getting up there in age. She’s been in and out of the hospital several times over the past 10 years. A quadruple heart bypass, broken hip, replaced hip, pneumonia and a few other little things. The big events however, bring my sisters and I together to help. We take turns staying with her in the hospital. Each one taking a shift during the day to be there for whatever she needs. Let’s face it, nurses are great, but they have a lot of patience to take care of. If we can go down the hall and get a bucket of ice now, instead of waiting for a nurse to have time to do it, then it’s not only better for Mom, it’s better for the other patience on the floor who don’t have family there. Not to mention, it can be pretty damn hilarious at times too.
When my Mom had the heart bypass surgery, she of course was put on some seriously heavy pain killers. She saw bugs crawling around. They weren’t there of course. She also so a bunch of old people waiting to get on a bus in the corner of the Cardiac ICU. And she couldn’t understand why her doctor was taking so long to row across the lake to come talk to her and check out her condition. I don’t remember the story about Batman, that happened with my middle sister I think. But he was there for some reason.
When she broke her hip, they had to keep her for 2 or 3 days before they could do the surgery. Again, big heavy pain killers. This time, she was angry with me for bringing the dogs to the hospital. She kept telling me to get them out of the hospital room before the nurses came back. And she really got mad when I let them get up on the neighboring bed and they laid down to take a nap. She wanted to know why the soldiers were fighting outside her window. Um..1, they were civil war soldiers and 2, outside her window was a tree and then another window from the next wing of the hospital. Yeah boy, those were some funny moments.
I saw a post on FB late Tuesday afternoon:
A message from Tony Stewart to his fans…
“I told someone to go get my phone or else I was going to get up and get it myself. Finally got reconnected to the world and just want to say thank you for all the prayers and well wishes. My team will remain strong and I will be back.”
That made me think of my Mom and what we do to take care of her in the hospital. And that’s what made me wish I could be a close friend and be there to help. Waiting for someone to get his phone; I could have gotten it, and handed it to him when he asked for it the first time. How hard would that be? And I’m sure the heavy pain killers he must be on would produce some funny moments in their own right.
I’ve broken a lot of bones in my life. A good 85% of them came from owning/riding horses. They aren’t exactly the safest creatures. I’ve broken both my arms, twice actually, in four different events. I had gotten the cast off my right arm and three weeks later broke my left arm. My Mom was not happy. I’ve broken a wrist, by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When that horse on the left, kicked that horse on the right in the face and I was walking out the barn door, pushing my long sleeve shirt up my arm and put my hand/wrist in between the iron horse shoe and the thick skull. Might have saved the horse getting kicked in the head, but it broke my wrist.
I’ve broken two fingers in two different incidents. I don’t remember the first one, but the second one came from trying to catch a horse that had escaped. I leaned over in the stirrups to reach the reigns and right as I was about to grab him, the stirrup broke and down I went. Just in time for the running escaped horse to step on my finger as I hit the ground. Both horses stopped though and we got them secured and back under control.
I broke a collar bone. Well the collar bone was playing “touch” football with a bunch of high school guys. It wasn’t so much touch, as it was grab the girl. Two of them, brothers, decided to fight over me, with me in the middle. When we hitting the ground, the bigger guy was on top of me and drove my shoulder into the ground. And that broke the collar bone. Ended up dating the older brother for a time. Then they moved away.
I’ve had a knee busted in a horse race. My horse was losing and she didn’t like that much. She cut the corner on a turn and well, there was me and the tree and I sort of lost. Knocked me right off the back of her, which was somewhat easy as I was riding bareback with only a blanket between me and her back.
I’ve broken several ribs at different times, in different places and in different ways. Some in not so good ways. I dislocated my right shoulder and went 4 weeks not knowing I had done it. When it was obviously getting worse and not getting better, I finally went to my Orthopedic. When he said it was dislocated neither of us could believe it. I knew I had a high tolerance for pain, that’s been stated by other doctors through the years. But this was sort of a big one. Though it didn’t hurt nearly as bad until after I saw him. He had to give me a shot of something to get the swelling to go down, before he could push everything back into place. It hurt more in those 4 days then anytime during the 4weeks! But he got it back together and tada I’m basically ok now. Bouts of tendinitis in that shoulder, but a shot of cortisone when it gets real bad fix that.
Of all the broken situations, I only passed out once. When I broke the radius in my right arm. That’s the bigger of the two bones in your forearm. It happened when the horse fell on his face and I went over his neck and head. Of course I put my arms out to catch my fall. But it was on a hill and with the momentum of him falling, me falling over him, I was sort of propelled to the ground and landed twisted and hard. Thus, the big bone broke and man did it hurt.
I passed out 3 times as a result of that crash. Right after it happened, when we were trying to ride back to the barn, which didn’t happen. My brother-in-law took a little detour and dropped me off at the little country store to wait for my sister to come pick up and take me to the ER. I sat in the back by the coolers and waited. When she came to pick me up, that was the third passing out event. Right after I stood up from the floor. Thank goodness she was there to catch me and 2 big burly farmer guys helped her get me into the car.
All of my broken bones occurred in my early teens to mid-20s. The worst one of them all put together occurred in my late 30s when I broke my right leg, in 5 places and right above the ankle. Had any of the breaks been a little bit lower, I would have had to have emergency surgery similar to Tony. But thankfully I was lucky. Maybe because I was older and wiser, with a bit more experience, so I didn’t pass out. But it hurt more than anything I had ever gone through before.
I knew exactly where the breaks were. Told the nurse where the were and she said “Well we’ll let the x-ray tell us”. Had the x-ray and she shows up with the ER doc and they say “Yep, right where you said and showed me the picture”. It looked bad. But at least it was just the fibula that was broken (that’s the little bone on the outside of your leg).
The next day after the swelling had subsided a little, my Orthopedic guy comes in. Shaking his head. By this time, my original Ortho was retired. But this was his son, he knew me. He’s a little older than I am so we’ve known each other for a long time. He popped the film in the viewer thing (I have no idea what they call it), and told me what was where and what he was concerned about and what we needed to do. First thing, was to pull the leg and try to get the biggest break back into place. Been through this with one of my broken arms. It was the only one of the 5 fractures that went completely through the bone. The others were severe fractures, with the exception of the “V” piece.
I got good drugs that day. Not sure if I saw anything like Mom, no one else was there at the time. Once they were working well, he and another doctor came to pull my leg and push the break back into place. All I felt was some tugging and pushing, I had really good drugs. Another x-ray and you could see they were successful. The “V” piece was even pushed into place more. All that would be taken care of by healing. Ever wonder how bones heal? Check out this site.
Each time, it’s 6 to 8 weeks for the healing process to do its thing. When you have surgery to repair the fracture, it’s closer to the 8. Tony underwent surgery for his broken bones Monday night when he arrived at the hospital. Tuesday it was announced that he will need a second surgery. All I thought was, I know what he’s going through. Wish I could be there to help and offer some compassionate care and attention.
I hope he gets well soon. I know he’s will, but when you care about someone, even if you don’t know them in person, you want them to be ok.
~ Victoria Lynn