My elderly mother has fallen, and she can't get up. Her spine is fractured in two places. We are on the starting end of what promises to be a painful eight weeks of recovery.
I'm writing this during my third overnight hospital shift in a row — so I'm a little sleep deprived and probably too emotional. But it occurred to me today that when tragedy strikes, the little things assume an entirely new level of value. Here are the things I'm thankful for today:
– Restoril, which gives mother eight solid hours of restful sleep.
– Fractures, which, while terrible and painful, are not the sort of paralyzing breakage we could have seen.
– Early mornings and quiet moments over shared cups of bad hospital coffee.
– An understanding chain of command at The Company — good people who really do encourage me to put family first.
– A surprising early morning snow, here, then lost in rain.
– Good nurses who know the medication schedule, bring the meds on the dot, and who understand that a call for a diaper change needs to be addressed *right now.*
– The buttermilk waffles at the Waffle House on Quintard Avenue.
– Little tweets and emails from concerned friends and family all over the world.
Sorry to hear that happened to your mother. She is lucky to have a son like you. Having an understanding company is great too. When my mother had a stroke three years ago, my company was kind enough to give me comp time to tend to her and it made a world of difference.
Ugh. Having just gone through some similar things, I feel your thankfulness. I got home after being gone for ten days and wondered how long I would remain thankful that I can bend over and pick up dog poo. Seriously? I was thankful for cleaning up the yard. I’m thankful that your mother has you for a son as well.