A warm blanket

Did you have a good Thanksgiving? Your pics sure seemed like it, ha. I’m with you 100%! We had the traditional dinner with all the trimmings, our home was full of precious little grands running all over the place and all went well. I tried to squash my “Suzanne obsession” with the past, at least for a few hours…ha, and embrace the present.

And then….

All HELL broke loose.

The stomach virus invaded our house like Sherman marching through Georgia. I was yelling at Jack for help and he was obsessively washing every towel and throw as fast as he could. We crawled around, moaned, whined and I finally managed to go upstairs to bed….I couldn’t even undress. I went to bed in my clothes with a trash can close by. (I have new carpet upstairs and I was pretty sure I’d die if anything gross happened)….

Fast forward to Sunday morning. We were scheduled to leave for Houston and my MD Anderson check up at 8:00.

Didn’t happen. Couldn’t get out of bed.

I told Jack I couldn’t make it. He disagreed and told me to sleep a little more and we’d go later.

At 11:00 I finally came to, managed to get in the shower, pack and leave.

What were we thinking? Somewhere around Little Rock I asked Jack if there was something wrong with the explorer because I felt like we were on the tilt a whirl.

it was truly the worst 9 hour trip of my life. I wouldn’t let Jack even mention food. I just couldn’t. Thank God we finally got off the tilt a whirl around 7:00 and went to our room at the Rotary House.

What a shock (not really) that in my stupor I had managed to forget pajamas, most of my underwear and my hairbrush.

I told him I was sick.

Let me just tell you that Monday morning I was a FRIGHT. Rotary House hotel has these nifty shampoo/conditioner/body wash containers attached to the shower wall and of course I used the conditioner not the shampoo so my hair (no brush) was just insane. I didn’t care. I had just survived the stomach flu and I didn’t know these Houston people anyway.

So here I go. Flat, straight hair, no makeup ……to the PET Scan.

Have you had a PET scan? I have had about a 100 it seems. I warned the nurse that I was a tough stick and that she might want to use my port for the IV. No problem, right?

Wrong.

She couldn’t (after a couple of tries) get blood return from the port…kind of a big deal and resorted to a lovely IV in my hand which was more that a little hurtful, telling me I’d have to go to infusion therapy after the PET scan to investigate the issue.

Did I mention that the stomach flu had racked body and thanks to 9 hours on the tilt a whirl, my nerves were SHOT? I was about an inch from a good ole meltdown when she said..

“Can I get you a warm blanket?”…….

I’m pretty sure the sky opened, birds started to sing and for an instant, all was well. It didn’t matter if I was in the #1 Cancer center in America or being triaged on the battlefield. That warm blanket was exactly what I needed.

It was comforting.

I was able to calm down and chill out while I waited for the scan.

And you know me…..I had to take a minute .

We have had so much trauma in Jonesboro of late……in our personal lives we have lost precious friends who were in the prime of their lives. We have no answers, We can’t explain it, we don’t know what to do or how to help. We’re left with our questions, our anger and our sadness. So what to do?

Does it seem ridiculous to apply the warm blanket theory? We can’t change the circumstances…we can’t make the situations go away…. but can we just embrace one another with that “warm blanket” feeling that says, I’m here. I’ve gotcha covered.

And for that time…..whether it’s minute or an hour…. can we provide comfort? Even if it’s just a minute to feel the warmth of a touch, a hug…the sincerity of concern and love.

To my dear friends who have suffered loss during these past months… when I see you I may not know what to say, but I’ll embrace you with love. And I’ll hope you’ll feel comfort…

like a warm blanket.

Published by swcall58

I'm a wife, mother, mother-in-law, grandmother....a retired choral director living with stage 4 lung cancer. My faith sustains me and my writing is therapy. Day by Day.

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