The holidays arrived and I wondered if this would be my last Christmas. Last minute gift buying left little time to think about it. Christmas dinner had to be planned and the house needed a cleaning. Christmas Eve dinner was at Jill's house. I hated the thought of the clunky brace under my dress pants. Still a bit of pride left. I managed to keep my emotions in check which was difficult watching my grandchildren open their gifts. But I got into the spirit and finally let go of myself. The innocence and wonderment on their faces drowned out the last remnants of self pity. We were having so much fun it was not difficult at all to suppress my tears. Like magic all bad things disappear when your grandchildren are around. Friends arrived and we had a wonderful evening filled with laughter. Christmas day was also a success with more family and friends and the tasty Italian meal with all the trimmings thanks to Bob. We had made it through.
January raged in cold and seemed to go on forever. My big appointment was still two months away. The fingers on my left hand began to feel strange and fear gripped me again. Paranoia reigned as I used a hand and finger exerciser to keep them strong. It didn't seem to help. My temper flared as I tried to pick up uncooked spaghetti that had dropped on the counter. It was not enough I had to use a tool called a reacher to pick things up from the floor. Now this was an insult.
February brought more cold weather. Bob and I both had pneumonia at the same time and were down and out for over two weeks. Our daughters shopped for groceries and looked in on us or called. Bob should have been in the hospital but refused to go as he was fearful of leaving me alone. So we took care of one another. Six more weeks to go. I missed the warmth of the sun on my face. On fairly nice days, which were rare, I bundled up and hobbled out to the driveway where a chair awaited me. I basked in the warm rays as if I were on the beach. I really wasn't wishing my life away. And letting the sun wrap its arms around me with a needed hug was a huge treat. Neighbors gawked at the sight but I couldn't care less.
Each day passed as I found things to do to fill the hours. Books were scattered in every room as I attempted to read three at a time and became adept at remembering the plot of each and who was who. Closets were cleaned as I reasoned my family shouldn't have to get rid of clothes and shoes that were five years old. Instructions were given to just dump the contents of my dresser into plastic bags and don't look back. My daughters scowled and gave me yeah, right, mom look. The days passed as I waited, waited, waited.
One very bright spot on a cold, windy day, my friend Sally, e-mailed me from her home in Virginia. She and her husband, Michael, offered their home in Myrtle Beach, SC to us for a week as their guests. What a gift, I thought, but didn't consider it a viable plan. I told my daughter, Jill, about the offer during a phone conversation and was scolded for not accepting this gift from good friends. I only thought of the negatives such as toting the wheelchair with us, difficulties getting on the beach and what a pain I would be for everyone involved. Boy, did I get it loud and clear. After all I'd been through how could I not want a vacation with Bob who deserved it also. We might never have this chance again with an uncertain future. I considered that it was, indeed, selfish. By the following day the offer was accepted gratefully, plane tickets reserved and the family happy we could spend this time together. Oh, well, I thought. On April 29 Myrtle Beach, here we come! And a million thanks to the Carlo family for letting it happen. What special friends.
