Resting

 

Well, well. How are y'all doing? We're okay. Shortly after my last post, my dad came home from the nursing facility. So many of y'all have been so supportive with encouraging words and with prayers, I wanted to provide a quick update. I don't want to dwell on the negative, but we are where we are right now. He went into the hospital on 30 October for a serious but not uncommon surgical procedure that should have only required an overnight stay. He had mowed the yard a few days before. Nineteen weeks later, after a lengthy hospital stay and three more nursing facilities, they have returned him to us unable to care for himself and likely suffering from PTSD. It's a long, complicated story which I will spare you, but the chief cause of this catastrophe has been the COVID protocols in both the hospital and the nursing facilities. Thankfully, all along the way, the Lord has blessed us with people willing to step in and help at critical times. Even now, there are people doing what they can to help rehabilitate him at home. We don't know how far we can bring him back, or if we can bring him back at all, but at least he is at home with my mom, and not alone in a facility. 

When he got home, I sort of shut down. I knew he wasn't right and there was such a long way to go, but the strain of knowing he was so ill and so isolated was relieved and exhaustion set in. I haven't picked up a needle since the beginning of March. I think I was so heavily relying on my stitching to keep me sane for those four months that when I shut down, the urge to stitch went, too. I have just been so tired. I know so many of you know this feeling.

So these last few weeks of inactivity on my blog have just been me resting. Trying to recover and recharge and refocus. If you've been with me for a while, you know I strive to keep this a happy place and I never share overly personal things. But I know that so, so many people have endured this type of situation--and far worse--over the last year, and I wanted to say: I know. I understand. I feel all that same fury, and sadness, and helplessness. And I'm praying for you.

When the pandemic began last spring, I said to Mr. Wonderful, "We must make it through this without anyone having to go into the hospital." Well, we didn't. And it's been a nightmare. But the Lord has sent so many people into our lives to help us carry this burden and we've learned so much from this ordeal. I think the main lesson is: be the helper. Be that person who steps in and lightens the load someone else is carrying. And don't underestimate your ability to help. We are unbelievably blessed that an ICU nurse lives next door to my parents and helps daily with my dad. I could never provide such skilled help. But someone quietly left a crate of fresh oranges on the porch, and it was a sheer delight. That, I can do. Just be the helper. 

Be well, y'all. Back soon.