This is the knitting project I brought with me to Florida for Bob’s hernia surgery. It is an Aran sweater that I’ve been frittering with going on two years. I was reluctant to bring it. The darn thing requires all my attention, so I have a hard time working on it. There is little rhythm to knitting a Celtic knot. Just lots and lots of concentration, on both right and wrong sides of the work. There is also a lot of pulling out, especially with my chaotic lifestyle and tendency for distraction.
But it turns out that a Celtic knot is just what I needed this morning. Bob had his initial exam yesterday with the surgeon. They said everything looked good for the surgery and then, just as we were getting ready to head back to the hotel, the anesthesiologist walks out and says “Yeah, ok, so, Bob, you’ve had a heart attack. Have you looked into that?”
What?!
“Well, some kind of small heart attack,” she went on to explain, “or some kind of infection. Your EKG was abnormal. So you need to see a cardiologist and get a complete work up. But you’re good for tomorrow.” Bob rolled his eyes and chose to dismiss it. Meanwhile, the room went black for me, everything started spinning, and I had to hold myself up on the counter.
Bob and I got out the door. He put his arms around me to hold me up. “Listen,” he said, “this is NOTHING. It is in the past. I’ve got a sense on this. I want you to trust me. It is nothing to worry about. Let’s just get through tomorrow.” We made our way back to the hotel.
I called home to let them know where things were at with the surgery, and when the girls got on the phone, I started to cry. Then my mom then got on the phone and started yelling at me for crying, as though I was a neurotic border collie who could be commanded back into control. “Shannon! Stop! Stop this! You can’t do this! You pull yourself together! NOW!”
The girls jumped on her for attacking. “Go away girls! I’m dealing with your mother.” I shrank away from the yells and continued with the tears. I knew it was her way of loving me, but I didn’t have to obey.
I know I’m not supposed to cry. I know I’m supposed to keep everything calm and healing for Bob. But this is one of those times when I don’t like being a grown up. I don’t like my job of keeping track of everyone’s cavities, and A1C tests, and cholesterol levels, and nerve pain, and eye therapy, and hernias, and surgeons, and watching suspicious skin moles and monitoring spinal curves and flossing. In chosing to have people in my life that I love, I have chosen to take their bodies as my own, and when an anesthesiologist walks up and says “yeah, so look into that heart attack? Ok?,” I know that means more research, and more doctors to meet and feel paranoid about and grow to hate. And then there’s the issue of what if the problem emerges in the hernia surgery? What if he drops dead on me? Or what if some cardiologist tells him he needs a quadruple bypass? Or what if he gets told he has to go on some kind of medication that makes him miserable? And the truth is, I can think, and I can research, and I can guess, and I can ask questions and I can fight and fight and fight until I find a good solution. But one of these days, no matter how hard I fight, I will lose one of the battles. And here, in the form of an abnormal EKG, comes one of those grim reminders: Someday, I’m not going to get my way.
My tears came under control. I managed to get off the phone with my mother. Instead of crying then, I lay down on the bed and went into seizures. Bob, in his coolness, sat back and let me thrash.
It used to freak him out when I did that. He wanted me to have every test under the sun. I refused. I remember the day I turned to him and said “I will not take this further. It is my body, and I know, deep down, that this is me, that I am fine, and there is no reason to be worried. I will not subject myself to that. Please trust me on this.”
And he did.
He was asking me to do the same now. I guessed I owed him the same respect. I know he’ll take the information to his doctor. I know he will make his decisions. I know he can go for long bike rides, and climb hills and wrestle sheep without getting short-winded. And we all knew that for a while a few years back, before his diabetes was diagnosed, he was real sick. Something could’ve happened.
We went to bed. I slept off and on and dreamt of my father’s pending surgery, of my mother’s probable cataract surgery, of Bob’s hernia surgery. Then I dreamt that a doctor was telling me I would need eye surgery to have my wisdom teeth removed. Then I shot up in bed with a panic attack. Then I try to lay down and sleep again. But mostly, I just cried. Bob slept peacefully.
In the morning, I took some Rescue Remedy, and we headed for the surgical center. I dropped him off, then headed back out again to get him a smoothie for when he woke up. I found a juice bar and had them whip up one with wheat grass, called “The Hulk.” Seemed fitting. While there, I picked myself up a bottle of Valerian tincture, taking care that I didn’t accidentally select the “alcohol-free” version. I walked back to the clinic, and managed to take several squirts before settling back in the waiting room.
Then I took up my knitting. And between the Valerian and focusing on that vexing Celtic knot — purl once, knit two, cable three, then purl twice then knit two off the cable, then purl one and on and on, then more Valerian, and then another row, and then another squirt of Valerian…
And then the surgeon poked his head out into the room and said Bob had done just fine. Much to our surprise, he had found four hernias and repaired all of them. They wheeled a dopey Bob out in a wheel chair. He gave me a big friendly wave, took a long pull on the straw of his “Hulk” drink, then told everyone in the clinic that those pain meds were a real bargain, and endorsed whatever product it was they were using, and told them he looked forward to enjoying the more later this evening.
I have my Bob back. He is here in the room with me, sleeping. I am watching over him, making him walk often, keeping him iced. I am hoping that maybe sometime today, sleep will come to me, too. If not, that Aran sweater is far from finished.
Today, I didn’t lose the battle. Today, I have him. Today, I have everyone. Today, I may start to rest my body. And we will go back to living a life that we cherish, in a world that we love. And someday, I might lose one of the battles. But we will have a lot of todays before then, and it is probably best that I don’t waste them worrying. I think it is better to knit.
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My thoughts and prayers are with you both. You have put into words the complete transformation we go through when we become wives and mothers and love those around us. When we love we feel not only compassion but we also feel their pains and worries. (Probably sometimes to a greater extent than they do.) Knit one, worry one, purl one, pray one, breathe two or three great big breaths, knit one, be grateful for the pattern of life and repeat.
Beautifully, put, Barbie. And FYI, I was just doing some research online. Apparently false positive EKGs are common in healthy people. Today, I am happy just to not drop my stitches!
Hang in there and will will be well. Sending healing Reiki now….
Reiki Principles
Just for today, I will not anger.
Just for today I will not worry.
Just for today, I will be grateful for all my blessings.
Just for today I will work with honesty and integrity.
Just for today, I will be kind to all living beings.
Thank you, oh thank you!!
So happy that the surgery went well ! I was so moved by your words, as I completely understand the taking on of your loved ones struggles as your own. The Blessing of being able to help them through whatever is in their path, but the fear that someday it may not be enough. Thank you for sharing and blessings on a full and speedy recovery.
Shannon, will keep you and your family in my thoughts. What an ordeal! Your sweater is gorgeous. Great to let art be your therapy.
We do take on the bodies we love as our own bodies. So entirely true. That’s what I felt through my child’s chronic illness, my husband’s broken neck and later surgeries, my parents’ slow decline. Doing something with our hands, as you did with knitting, takes us out of our worries and into the slow rhythm of purposeful engagement. Weeping and pacing also help. Maybe your seizures help you discharge as well.
May perfect health and loving contentment reign in your family.
Thank you for sharing. Please know you and family are in my prayers. As a mother of a daughter who had a stroke before she was born and is missing 80% of her right brain. I’ve felt every emotion you just described when learning there is something else wrong. Been there so many times I cant tell you. Just remember to breathe when hearing news like this and focus on what’s in front of you at the moment. If its something that can wait, (i.e. cancels Bob’s surgery) put it on the back burner to deal with later. Don’t allow yourself to go down that garden path of what ifs. Just breathe and focus on Bob’s recovery. All will be well.
Blessings all.
And that’s one hell of an Aran sweater.
The knots say it all about life and love.
Perfect.
A deep bow to you.
HI Shannon. Thank you for taking the courage to share this. No, I don’t think you have to be strong all the time. You are enough. Wow. I so appreciate you sharing this. I am including you in my prayers (hoping that you don’t find that offensive). Be well, well wishes to you and all your family.
Utterly beautifully put. Beautifully. We’re all here singing from that same song sheet. Thanks for illuminating it.
The power of your writing is certainly therapeutic to me. I have a cousin quickly declining with pancreatic cancer, a 13 year old dog who develops new health issues every month, and a 93 year old mother who may pass on soon. I’ve felt I should be doing something, but in the face of physical illness and age (including my own) one is powerless. I’ve felt so boxed in, and perhaps it’s the purpose of the Sun going through Capricorn to point out to use where we’ve become too rigid, controlling, and wanting to make demands on behalf of our loved ones. God bless you for sharing your journey to letting go. Beautiful! Thank you.
We are so glad to hear it went well. Best wishes for a speedy recovery.
Wow, 4 repairs for the price of one! Leave it to Bob to find a way to go a long way on a little… even with this. 😉
Shannon, anyone we love going into surgery or having a medical problem is scary as he**! It is true that we take on the bodies of those we love as if they were our own. Weeping and “seizures” let off all that build up of emotional pressure. It’s good for you to do that and your Mom probably just wanted you to be present and strong for your husband. But you were in your own way and because your husband loves you, he understands what you need to do to help him. Sometimes that means letting off some emotional steam so you can in return focus on giving him the emotional/physical support he needs. You did good Shannon and everything is fine. Enjoy peace and healing now. Don’t worry too much about tomorrow either. I believe God gives us the strength we need when we need it. So enjoy today and all your Blessed with. Praying for the health of your family and sending good thoughts your way. God Bless 😉
I have been praying for you all, Shannon! I will continue to pray the Lord give the docs wisdom for whatever lies ahead – such as a heart attack??? I pray it won’t be! So thankful that your Bob came through the surgery so well! This past Wednesday (day b4 yesterday) I brought home my own hubby from the hospital. Suffering bad colds for over a month, we got meds Rx’d from a clinic last Saturday. Stayed home four days, sleeping much, then Tuesday morning get a call from work – hubby passed out 6:30 A.M. I high-tailed it to his work just in time to jump in the ambulance w/ my hubby, whose blood pressure and pulse they couldn’t find. By the time we got to hospital, he was coming back a little bit. He was admitted. After several tests, all found his heart and head to be just fine, and so the docs agreed it was the extremely strong meds from the clinic. Today is Friday and going stir-crazy, he is in the kitchen replacing the range hood. He called our doctor Wednesday afternoon, and after my yelling, the doc told my hubby he was grounded til Monday. Hard to keep a good man down. And we must trust! We trust in the Lord who is in control of all things, knowing our best and worst, our times are in His hands. So no battle, just trusting through the hardest of times. I was in a daze throughout the whole thing. I didn’t have seizures, but I did have to take a porcelain ride for long times – that’s what happens to me in crisis. But now I am thankful for others standing in the gap praying for us, while I was a basket case. My hubby fared better in the end than I did, and so we are thankful for yet again the Lord’s mercy showered upon us. And I rejoice that your hubby is once again placed back into your arms, and for the Aran sweater, that just may be the most beautiful thing you’ve crafted, because of what it meant for you while in crisis. There is always a path through, provided for the best and worst times of your life. In short – YAAAAYYY!!! So happy for you all! Rest, recoup and resume!
Oh dear Shannon, while you went along to support Bob, we forgot to tell you to take someone along to support you! It normal for you to fall apart. We should have anticipated that and given you a heads-up because it was almost guaranteed to happen.
There is absolutely no reason to think you and Bob aren’t going to grow ancient together, and watch your grandchildren get married and have children.
Clinicians are so used to using, well, clinical terminology – without giving a thought to how it affects those of us who don’t think that way every day. And guess what, in my experience they are frequently just plain wrong. Its a huge pet peeve of mine. But never mind that, Bob’s doctor will interpret it all and put it into perspective.
You have managed to communicate the deepest fear of all of us who have people in our lives that we dearly love. The deeper we love, the greater the fear of loss. It usually hits us the moment we become a parent. You are a very brave woman. Most of us don’t dare to even bring it to consciousness. You have clearly articulated it.
Also, I recommend that you let some people in your life support you! Family is amazing, but friends are an integral part of the equation. You’ll be stronger for it, and so will they.
Thank you, Cynthia. No, I guess I didn’t realize this part, about having friends on hand to support me. But I do have a few friends who have been lurking in the wings, who are standing at the ready if I start to drop my pieces. So while I didn’t know to ask for it, they knew to do it anyway. I’m so grateful! I hope I can return the favor someday. I find your words deeply comforting. I so appreciate that you took the time to write them.
Shannon- our house is your house- come in any time
You are truly loved by many, including us!
All will be as it should be- you already know that in your heart of hearts.
Wisdom- it is your most prevailing strength. Us it well now in this time of uncertainty.
Thank you, Ron and Jeanne, This is all just part of the great life experience, isn’t it? Nevertheless, knowing we are surrounded by such loving spirits helps a lot.
I love you, Shannon. Please give him gentle hugs from us.
Thank you, Holly. I’ll pass along the hugs!
A huge hug for you and each of your family, all three generations. I’m proud to have you in my life as that is the way I see our relationship. Remember that you have a whole lot of people who are with you to hold you and support you along life’s path.
Thank you, Jane. It is always good to have that reminder. Bob is astounded by the letters of support we’ve received, and it truly buoys his spirit. Be well.
Sending much affection and good juju to the best friends and neighbors.
You capture Bob’s grace and day sense of humor so well. You are both so lucky, as are we to know you. Un abrazo
That scent, you ask, is just a bundle of sweetgrass I have been saving for you and Bob, Shannon. Heal softly and travel well.
Thank you! Yesterday was very hard. Your kind wishes are most welcome.
You have our prayers, enjoy your celtic knot prayer, it represents the life cycle and how it never ends, we have our beginnings and ends and they are entwined and we need to focus on enjoying the path, not worry about the end or beginning. You have God for that and His love for you all. Also consider contacting a priest of chaplain to speak to, they are very wonderful in providing a good shoulder for anyone. Most are trained to speak to anyone in where their faith walk is so it should be a strengthening experience. http://www.masstimes.org/
Also try gluten free for a bit, with lots of dark greens, very strengthening and reduces stress on your system, lots of moms use this to help with their kids, so be a big kid and feed yourself well. When in doubt check with your doc. Remember you are never alone and when you don’t believe me just read this http://www.footprints-inthe-sand.com/index.php?page=Poem/Poem.php.
🙂 smile God loves you all, keep the faith.