Friends, there aren’t adequate words to thank you for your prayers and kind words. For local dinners and flowers and emails sent from afar. Quite humbling being on the receiving end, but I’m just goin’ with it.
If you’re new to my Umi situation, long story short: Doctors found a mass in my ureter (which I named Umi). The first surgery they biopsied Umi, and it came back benign. All the praises– no cancer. A few days ago I had another surgery to have the mass in all its’ Umi-ness removed and hooray– they were able to get it with a telescope without slicing me open. Bless!
So I’m on the couch resting (mentally rearranging furniture) and beyond grateful to be home with my people. I’m simmering in what this season of surrender is teaching. I’ll share that soon, but for now, peace. Peace is what I’m experiencing. Peace DESPITE circumstances. Peace when nothing makes sense and plans go awry. Peace. Deep-in-my-gut and down-to-my-toes. Peace found when releasing my control without attempting to understand why. The kind of settling-into-surrender-to-discover-utter-contentment peace.
Coming out of surgery, the kindest male nurse took care of me. Murse for the win. There was something about him, the way he spoke to his patients, the doctors, his fellow nurses, the janitor. With each person he interacted with, he said the same words: I appreciate it. I appreciate you. He thanked them. He respected them. He was curious and asked questions. He saw each person.
He took my hand when I thought I was going to puke. He held my bedpan (there’s just nothing glamorous about post-op is there?) He ducked out to tend to other patients and from down the hall I heard his humble voice. Thanks. I appreciate it.
Appreciation. It’s a make or break. It allows people to be acknowledged and valued.
Following surgery I laid on that hospital bed for a few hours, allowing the anesthesia to wear off before my feet met gravity, I found his eyes to thank him for being such a kind nurse. You are a see-er of people. It’s your gift. Thank you for taking care of me. I practically hugged Mr. Murse.
He smiled and pushed my wheelchair down the hall, into the elevator, through the glass door and out into dusk air where Bryan met us with the car. I looked up to see him breathing in deep. Mr. Murse shared about his daughters and their love for piano, art and swimming. There’s no windows on our floor so I love bringing patients outside for a few minutes of fresh air.
Before I got in the car, I offered him what I noticed him giving everyone else that day. I appreciate you, I said. Treat yourself to a few more minutes of fresh air.
Sometimes angels come in the form of a murse or a jolly anesthesiologist (with whom I apparently divulged much before going under).
These past few days angels have shown up through my hubby and boys who offer limitless grace to a couch-bound wife and mommy.
And I’m in appreciation awe.
Angels disguised as friends and family who love our boys, share ice cream, bake scones, who are on the other end of the phone.
Angels wearing bright petals of dahlias, sunflowers and roses.
Angels bringing cheesy enchiladas, tortellini soup, and lasagna.
Angels who invite us outside to enjoy sunsety air.
And they speak the simplest of affirmations: I.appreciate.YOU.
Who’s been an angel to you today? I know three lil’ words that make a world of difference.