David's Thoughts


We’re doing much better this week here at home.  Betty’s pain level is down and we’ve had some wonderful food delivered to our home by friends from church.  Eight pounds.  That’s how much I’ve gained in four weeks.  People don’t bring leftovers when you’re sick, they bring what they cook best.  And lots of it.  When you’re a caregiver, there are times when your patient is asleep and not active.  You can’t go outside because they might ring that bell, and you wouldn’t hear it.  You can’t make noise with the tv because you might wake them up from their much needed, healing sleep.  So what’s left?  You can quietly chew in the kitchen.  It’s the only exercise I’ve had in weeks.  My jaw muscles look great!  Very toned.  The rest of me has slowly blossomed.  I complained to Betty and she asked me what I was going to do about the extra fat.  Jokingly I said, “Maybe I’ll just cut it off.”  So…..later that night, I’m opening a package.  I don’t even remember now what the package contained.  I’m sure it was something from Wal-Mart that was suppose to make my life easier.  So what’s the deal with the new product packaging?  Everything is like hermetically sealed with some machine that stamps it as if it’s making silver dollars.  The plastic is sooo thick.  On occassion, I have broken the very thing I was opening because of wrestling with the plastic covering.  Scissors would have been a good choice.  I see that now.  But they were so far away in the next room down the hall and who has time to make all those extra trips?  When you consider the wear and tear of your house shoes and carpet and the part of your life you’ll never get back by walking those extra steps.  So there in my dresser was a small knife given to me by an insurance guy.  It has a curved, half-mooned blade of about one and a half inches.  It’s right there.  No walking.  So I opened the drawer, picked up the knife and started slicing through the Godzilla package.  I don’t know if it was the second or third slash at the hardened kryptonian cover when my niffty little knife slipped, but I do remember the feeling of it sinking all the way into my stomach!  My initial yell brought Betty into the room.  She screamed, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” like a machine gun spitting bullets.  I raised my shirt to find a sizable wound opening up.  Betty said, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Yes, blood was running like a “stuck hog at Christmas.”  ( That was a saying from my Grandfather that I never understood but still have chosen to use all of my life.  It seems to fit here.)  I told Betty that I needed to stop the bleeding to which she responded, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”  Then she said, “What can I do!?  I said,  “Well if you could kind of lay off the phrase, Oh my gosh, I think it might lower my blood pressure and stop the flow of blood from my body a little bit.  We ran to the Band-Aid room.  We literally have a room with a large cabinet where we keep band-aids.  We have two boys.  Nuff said.  I don’t know how old these band-aids were, but they were yellow and crunchy.  Unless you’re a breakfast cereal, that ain’t good.  Every band-aid box we had was quickly removed from the cabinet and ransacked on the counter.  Finally we found a few strips that still had sticky left on them and we stretched them tight over the new incision and the bleeding stopped.  I think the new layer of fat kept the knife from damaging anything important.  Yes, fat has finally had a purpose!  Has overeating saved my life?  I may call Dr. Phil. Betty wanted me to go to the emergency room, but we sure have been to the doctor a lot lately, so I opted to just lay in my recliner and rest.  I’m being very careful with the new homemade stitches.  I find that I can’t move a lot or they come open.  But I’ve noticed I can still chew! 
We go today for another visit to the surgeon.  Betty is feeling much better and we’ll know this afternoon if she can travel with me this week-end.  I cannot tell you how wonderfully blessed we are to have such great friends.  Even as I write these words, I’ve answered the phone several times by folks who are concerned for us.  Thank you for caring.  The cards and letters encourage us and the load is lightened by so many of you helping us with it.  We love you all.