For a while my second wrist surgery was going well. I cooked. I washed dishes. Then a new kind of pain arose in my right hand, intense and breath-taking. I was again reduced to being a one-handed person.
When I went to the surgeon for a final check of the surgical outcome, I said a new problem had arisen, probably unrelated to the surgery. The surgeon ordered X-rays of my right wrist. He studied them carefully, then announced that my right wrist is in worse shape than my left had been before he fused it. I had two options, he said. One is an artificial wrist joint that is not very durable. It might last five years. After it breaks I would have to undergo another, more difficult surgery to fuse the wrist. The other option is immediate wrist fusion, which allows for no wrist movement whatsoever.
I left his office with tears welling in my eyes. Is there no end to this deterioration? How will I manage to live, to survive another surgery?
I drove from the surgeon's office to the downtown. There was banking to do and I needed to pick up the sunglasses I had left the day before at the bakery. I was walking up Vermont Street, fighting tears, when I looked up and was amazed to see Dennis walking toward me.
When we met, he asked, "What's the matter, Darlin'?" He looked in my eyes and without another word enveloped me in his arms and held me close while I rested my head against his shoulder.
Never in my life have I needed more to be held by someone who loves me, and there he was, a blessing.
Of course I will do what must be done. There is no way out but through. His love will give me the strength to endure, just as it gave me the solace I desperately needed, standing by the library on Vermont Street last Tuesday.
When I went to the surgeon for a final check of the surgical outcome, I said a new problem had arisen, probably unrelated to the surgery. The surgeon ordered X-rays of my right wrist. He studied them carefully, then announced that my right wrist is in worse shape than my left had been before he fused it. I had two options, he said. One is an artificial wrist joint that is not very durable. It might last five years. After it breaks I would have to undergo another, more difficult surgery to fuse the wrist. The other option is immediate wrist fusion, which allows for no wrist movement whatsoever.
I left his office with tears welling in my eyes. Is there no end to this deterioration? How will I manage to live, to survive another surgery?
I drove from the surgeon's office to the downtown. There was banking to do and I needed to pick up the sunglasses I had left the day before at the bakery. I was walking up Vermont Street, fighting tears, when I looked up and was amazed to see Dennis walking toward me.
When we met, he asked, "What's the matter, Darlin'?" He looked in my eyes and without another word enveloped me in his arms and held me close while I rested my head against his shoulder.
Never in my life have I needed more to be held by someone who loves me, and there he was, a blessing.
Of course I will do what must be done. There is no way out but through. His love will give me the strength to endure, just as it gave me the solace I desperately needed, standing by the library on Vermont Street last Tuesday.
1 comment:
So endearingly sweet, but bittersweet. Who would think your angel of mercy would arrive right where you needed him?!
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