Sunday, February 16, 2014

Pain and Drama

My wrist first became painful when I was dealing with all the snow.  I knew what was causing the pain, and it would improve if I didn't have to shovel for a couple of days.  Then I stopped shoveling snow, and the pain continued to get worst.  Now that I know what is wrong, I'm wearing a brace, and it continues to grow more painful.  There have been a couple of times I've thought I felt the bone moving. 

That first night in the hospital, as I awaited surgery, if I moved my hand I could feel the bones move against each other, so I know what it feels like.  Then, I was pumped full of narcotics, now I am not.  The pain isn't crippling, but it's pretty constant.  Simple tasks are becoming more difficult, as it seems like almost anything I do causes pain.  The pain is exhausting, as is the stress of trying to remember all the things I need to get done before surgery on Tuesday. 

I let Daughter come home with me after church to help me finish a few things, including changing the sheets on both of our beds.  The care group is recruiting someone to stay with me Tuesday night, so I want clean sheets on Daughter's bed.  It will probably be a while before I can handle changing mine alone.  I have a thick, heavy mattress, and I knew my wrist wasn't up to it today. 

Daughter is struggling with this, so of course she's turning up the drama.  She wants to be at the hospital so she can hear what the doctor says after surgery.  She wouldn't be able to process it, but she knows that is what children do for their parents-- she saw me do it many times with my parents.  She knows.  Of course, she's not going to be at the hospital.  I don't want the drama, and I'm not going to put that on the saints who will be there for me. 

She got frustrated when she was trying to put the sheets on her bed.  I offered to help her, but she insisted she could do it herself.  She insisted the sheet had shrunk and no longer fit.  I assured her it hadn't.  She as in her bedroom working on it and her frustration was evident-- she was using colorful language and I heard clunking and slamming.  I ignored it.  She came out and said she couldn't do it.  I assured her she could.  Eventually she went back in and finished the job.  She did a wonderful job once she went in to complete it.  She again went into her whole rant on how group homes weren't for people like her.  She also announced that if the team wouldn't work with her, she would get herself out.  I reminded her that she needs to make better choices if she wants more independence.  She begged to spend another night with me.  I informed her it was too exhausting to be with her when she's acting like this.  She told me to stop the car and she'd walk home if I felt that way. 

On a more positive note, my congregation is amazing.  I have people lined up to provide transportation and keep the driveway clear.  They also know that I don't need Daughter around right now, and why.  I'm sure they will pick her up and take her to church if she asks.  I'm hoping to be in worship Sunday.  One of the leaders is preaching, but I hope to be there for the vision task force before church.  I told them I'd let them know if I was up to it later in the week. 

I am concerned about driving.  Right now closing my door and fastening my seat belt are painful.  I don't know if that will be better or worse following the surgery.  One of  the nurses assures me this time will be easier, as I won't have had the trauma or hours of narcotic pain killers as I waited for surgery.  I hope she is right.  I hope Daughter figures out the drama isn't working.  I told her she was pushing people away with all of it.  She said it wasn't drama, it was fact.  Whatever.

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