Today was the day for hubby’s surgery. However, a patient in more dire condition than hubby bumped him from his spot. His doctor courteously asked if hubby minded. He did, but the humanitarian side of him was gracious. How do you say no to a man who faces imminent death? You don’t. You yield with grace. Your own heart still beats.
In another day or two, a spot will open for hubby.
Friends and family have called, e-mailed, or traveled hundreds of miles to be here to offer support. Hubby and I feel loved.
I know when he wheels away into surgery, I will worry and wrestle with a dozen other feelings. Over the press of fear, I am choosing reason–at least in this moment. He has great medical people helping him.
So on the eve of surgery, I write. To keep sane. To focus on something else. To pretend everything is all right. Which it is, or will be.
The missing started
the moment you turned your back.
It felt like forever.