I recently heard a boat captain say that every night they plot the course for the next day and check the weather.

Good advice for all of us. On land or sea.

 

As I entered the hospital for outpatient surgery, I carried nothing with me. No phone, no purse, no jewelry, not even my wedding rings. It was an odd feeling to be just me, but not an unpleasant one.

As I got dressed after the procedure, habit had me looking for my personal effects, until I remembered I had arrived without any of my usual accessories. As the nurse wheeled me to meet my husband who had gone to get the car, it hit me that 54 years ago I came into this hospital and this world the same way. Just me.

Of course, that day I was naked. But you get the idea.

 

While getting my stitches out two weeks after foot surgery, my husband and I received a call that his mom had suffered a massive stroke. A few hours later, we learned she would not survive. A week later, she was gone. She was vibrant and healthy and had more energy than any of us “kids”. Her death could have been prevented had insurance not denied a test her doctor had ordered.

While my stitch removal was gentle, painless and done with great care, the excision of mom from our lives, from her life, was abrupt, hurt deeply and tore our world apart. The wound on my foot has mended nicely. The other events of that day will never truly heal. We now walk with a proverbial, permanent limp.