I took this picture of Vernon on Friday morning. He was out of his bed and it took three CNA’s to get him back in. It wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. They shook their heads at me with the same look in their eyes: it’s going to be a trying month ahead. The wound nurse came in to check his hip. Vernon didn’t want him touching him, didn’t think anything was wrong there. The nurse said, “This is going to be a hard situation.” I told him I preferred the word “challenging.”
I’ve been very worried about him the past few days. The state of the world and some heavy/tragic news from a few different friends have put my head in a spin. If I’m not careful, I carry around my feelings about all of it and I think Vernon picks up on my negative vibes. It doesn’t help either of us. I sniffled through my workout Saturday morning before seeing my mom and crying on her shoulder. “I wanted this surgery so much, and now that we are on the other side of it, I’m so worried about him. What if he can’t keep the cast on? What if it gets infected? What if he loses his arm?”
My wonderful mother prayed with me and gently said: “You thought the worst was going to happen before—and it didn’t. How you feel now doesn’t mean you know the future.”
I kept thinking of that throughout the weekend. I don’t know the future. I’d listen to more of the upsetting news around the world and instead of getting angry like I have been the past month or so, I’d remind myself with this pinch of salt: I don’t know the future. I’d think about my dear friend with aggressive cancer, and say a prayer for her because I don’t know the future. I don’t know the future of life with Vernon. I don’t know the future of his arm. I don’t know the future of the kids. It may all turn out better than I can imagine right now. I don’t know either way.
Funny that one can find either fear or peace in that, depending on how one thinks. At the moment, I’m slightly more peaceful. Control is overrated anyway, right? But still, it’s worth asking for a sign. A sign that something will get better. I just want to know I’m on the right path.
Vernon’s new doctor, Dr. Hong, left me a message Sunday morning. He’d checked up on Vernon and thought he was doing well. He also told me he was best reached by text message—which works well for me! Here is our interchange:
I think it was the sign I needed…that I can communicate with Vernon’s new doctor with emojis.