I have faithfully been upbeat and positive over the last few years. And that attitude has paved my path. But sometimes, I just feel despondent, almost like I've lost a loved one.
* I cry when nobody is looking.
* To punish myself just a little more, I'll watch sad or emotional movies and sit there and sob.
* I am grateful to be alive. When I finally became aware that my surgery was over, I had a tube down my throat and couldn't talk - but I knew that was coming - and I smiled and gave a thumb's up sign to Mechanic Man (who took a picture of me with my phone).
* Grateful for Mechanic Man plodding through each day, for being there all the time, for keeping his emotions in check (because I think he hates this more than me), for cooking, cleaning, washing, etc., etc., while ordering me to sit still.
* Again, I'm grateful. Thank you God for hearing me. This business of handing over my worries to you is not that simple.
* I lay awake at night and think that there's been way too much stuff happening to my body.
* Then I grieve for a friend who died just a week after I was released from my latest surgery - and think about him being on the same floor.
* I grieve horribly for the missed baby snuggles with my new grandtwins. (They are 11 weeks tomorrow - I've seen them three times.)
* Very grateful to my son who came to the hospital from Moscow, Idaho with the greatest grandma gift you could ever ask for - a digital photo frame loaded with 75 pictures of his then 7-week old twins.
* Very, very grateful for a picture of my granddaughter, Abigail, with a small grin on her face. It hung on my wall at the hospital and cheered every single person who came in - including stuffy doctors.(No that was a smile; not gas).
* I take that back - my doctors are not stuffy. They are like fathers or brothers in a very loving family.
* I feel fragile - it is going away, day by day - but for a couple weeks, when I did my marathon walking two blocks and back - I walked like a hunch-backed 90-year old lady, clutching my arms in front of my chest (to protect that sternum).
* Will this endocarditis come back? (Had it once in June and I thought that made my dues paid up for extra illnesses.) Endocarditis three months later. Open Heart Surgery.
* Am I going to die?
* I'm very emotional, very introspective. I really need to master this giving-it-to-God trick. We're in a tug-a-war. He says He'll take care of it, I say but I need to do this myself, He shrugs and says He'll take care of it. Eventually I release my worries (of that moment) to Him and find peace and hope.
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