“But you’re a nurse,” he said.
But I don’t want to be a nurse when I need a nurse. Or when I want a nurse. Or when I want someone to say they are concerned and let’s go have this taken care of. When I want someone else to take control.
Sometimes I’m too tired to make the nursey decisions, especially when it comes to myself.
And I lost it.
I told myself I wouldn’t. I steeled myself not to.
But I’d been in pain all day and then the fever and headache came. And I’d been babysitting and struggling to remain sweet and patient.
I wanted someone to babysit me.
And I wanted him to say that he was concerned and that maybe we should go to the hospital.
And I wanted him to recognize my frustrations and fears. Fears of not going and of going. Because I knew going meant an ouchie shot and an IV and nasty medicine that would make me sick and a big bill. And waiting too long could have consequences. And frustrations over never knowing when the pain will strike and how inconvenient it is. And fear and frustration over the knowledge that I know surgery eventually looms, and there’s no time for that.
And he said he was going to bed. And I said fine. I was sleeping on the couch. And he said to wake him up if I needed to go to the ER, and I said if I needed to go to the ER I’d take myself, thank you very much. And I said a bunch of other stuff, too.
And I didn’t apologize.
I didn’t go to the ER, but the pain and fever continued all night. And I knew I should apologize this morning, but I didn’t feel like it.
And I never mentioned how I felt. I think I only just figured that out.
I think that’s the way it is sometimes. Emotions that we don’t even recognize churn below the surface until suddenly they bubble and foam and spill out like water from an overfilled potato pot.
A reminder to extend grace because I am so in need of grace.
I did go to the doctor this morning, and he did prescribe nasty medicine, but I talked him out of the real icky stuff. And he talked about a surgical consult. And I asked him about his grandson.
And tonight I need to apologize.
And tomorrow is a new day.
Praying that He gives you the words and they taste sweet as you speak them.. feeding you and your beloved.
Also praying for the oil of healing to rain down upon you.
Sweetness. And I’m feeling better already on the less nasty med. 🙂
A reminder to extend grace because I am so in need of grace.
As I read this, this above line really stuck out to me. I had to read it several times. I think that it was a beautiful reminder to extend grace. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks so much, Michael.
Indeed, God’s mercies are new every single morning.
We wake up, hit bare feet on the floor, and — Ta-da! — GRACE greets us!
I love your Ta-da! We’re greeted by GRACE every morning. We just have to open our eyes to see it/Him.
Sandra, praying for your healing! As I read, I could only bow my head and say “Thank you Lord.” How often I have been humbly reminded that the grace that He so freely gives to me is the same grace I should extend to others. Sometimes I behave badly and then I am ashamed but it is a beautiful reminder of the magnitude of a promise from a God who loves us not “in spite of” but because of…
And a reminder that we can’t go it alone. Thanks, Karen.
All true.
All me in your words.
The ones about needing to extend grace more.
More grace. Freely given.
Good luck with the nasty medicine. 😉
Deidra, the nasty is so much better than the really nasty!
You know, these honest moments of weakness and the sharing of them is what being family is all about. I’m proud to call you my sister, Sandra. This makes me love you even more. Consider yourself hugged.
Okay, so now you’ve gone and made me cry. XOXO
Sometimes I think it would be nice if the people around me were mind readers — then they would know when my internal strength is waning and I’m in need of some TLC — but they aren’t. Reciprocal observation and sensitivity are as important as two-way communication at such times, but our humanness gets in the way. Thankfully God is there for us. May he wrap you in his love and grace and extend his healing and blessings in this difficult time.
Mind readers. That would be nice. But only sometimes. 😉 Thanks, Carol. I’m feeling lots better!
I pray you are better today! I know all about how those conversations go–the good news is that the ones who love us still do even when we are not at our best–or they aren’t.
I love how that works. My husband is the king of unconditional love–right under the King.