A Wrinkle And A Wonder #24

a wrinkle

Molly, my little doggie girl, had surgery this week. She had a couple of growths removed from her leg, so they could be  biopsied. Doctor doesn’t think it’s cancer,  but wants to confirm what it is. So we are dealing with the necessity of her wearing a Cone of Shame, an Elizabethan Cone, so she can’t lick the surgery site until it heals.  It hurts me more than it hurts her I think, but after desperately trying to get it off she has now called a truce . She’s adapted to the awful thing and has learned how to eat with it on, go up and down stairs and jump up and off the couch and bed. I step in to help her, but she probably doesn’t want me to hover over her. Damn! I think she’s better at this adaptation and resilience thing than I am.   A few years ago I had extensive surgery on my right hand. Unlike Molly, I had the awareness of what was coming so had the “luxury” of worrying about what was to come. Healing and getting mobility back was a long painful process and I am not the most patient of patients. So I figured some things out to take care of myself, gratefully accepted help from others and whined.  Limits and changes to  my ability to take care of myself really piss me off.  Although I know that change is inevitable I still tend to dig in my heels and protest a bit when I need to adapt to new circumstances. Road closed signs  irritate me, and when my favorite coffee shop closes early desperation sets in! Move the clock and I still look for it in the same place for too long! I’m not totally averse to stepping out of my routine or trying new things, but I prefer routine unless I’m highly motivated. I say old lady things and I hear myself say “ That’s the way I’ve always done it.” or “ What do you mean you’ve changed your patient portal!?”  I’ll deal with it, or I won’t.  

a wonder

A friend of mine asked to interview me after my husband Roger died, and I had had time to adjust and see what I may have learned from caregiving and grieving. She was researching what resilience meant and how I might have  demonstrated resilience. We concluded that caregiving and grieving Roger’s dementia and death was a massive learning experience, and it hadn’t destroyed me and actually made me stronger. Basically “What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.” theory . Yes, I was a stronger more adaptable person, more confident of my strength and ability and clearer on what was truly important and what was not. Caregiving put holes in all my theories about  love for others and self-love  and each day was different with new challenges. You would think that nothing would shake me after surviving this, but time forgets as well as heals. So today I’m remembering these lessons and thinking WTF how could I now react to the trivial matters I face today with so much consternation, but I have to remember that I am human and can react quickly without thinking. If the Internet is out, my first reaction could be uttering a barrage of obscenities and maybe some handwringing if I knew how to wring my hands. As a young girl, when I was learning to ride bike and sucking at it,  I threw the bike to the ground and blamed the bike for not letting me ride it. I can still get very angry at inanimate objects that don’t cooperate with me. I do try to put the square peg in the round hole. I know that if I give myself time to think I can remember that I am resilient and steady and I can respond and not only react. Imagining  myself wearing a collar like Molly’s,  I am humbled and respect her ability to deal and to go with the flow. I need to remember this lesson.