I baked coffee cake Saturday morning, so that my kids would waken to the smell and taste of comfort as I headed out to be with my husband for his emergency gallbladder surgery. My kids would be home alone with their worries all day long. They are old enough to fend for themselves, of course, but a couple of them have anxiety disorders and easily spiral into distress. I wasn’t keen about having to choose between helping them and helping my husband.
Alas, we don’t always get the choices we like. We also don’t always realize the good things we have. When my husband became violently ill on Thanksgiving evening, I had the option of bemoaning how our holiday weekend was “ruined” or being grateful to have an excellent hospital a mile away.
Unlike people in other countries, we didn’t have to walk there. Unlike many people in my neighborhood, I was able to talk to the doctors in my own language. When my parents were my age, they couldn’t text home to keep folks informed of how things were going.
The hospital was well-supplied with heat and electricity and sterilizing machines and pain medication. Sure, we had to wait more than we wanted to, but the situation would have been exponentially harder without a whole host of advantages I don’t normally consider.
The surgery went reasonably well. It took longer than anticipated, and I was annoyed that the surgeon neglected to come speak with me afterwards. Then there were complications, but none were life-threatening. All in all, the weekend was not my favorite of 2017. Even so, there was much to be thankful for.
