Monday, February 18, 2013

Adventures in convalescence


As a result of my accident, I was rendered practically helpless for three solid weeks.

People cared, and people helped.

A few examples

My kids were driven to and from school, choir, basketball practices and games, church activities, piano lessons, driver’s ed, track.  Etc. 

I was driven to and from doctor’s offices.  Any other outing was completely out of the question.

People bought and delivered groceries, at times refusing to let me write reimbursement checks.

My mom did -- and still does -- more than I could ever list.

People brought me stuff.

Here’s a partial list (emphasis on partial, as I could never remember everything):

One Monday morning at 8 a.m., Rob informed me that he needed a pair of track shoes with spikes – which he didn’t yet own -- by the time his track period began in the early afternoon.   I called a friend.   A pair of brand-new Nike track shoes was at the high school by 1 p.m.

Dozens of dinners for the family and lunches for me – always delivered by someone who stayed to talk, clean or throw in a load of laundry.  At times, especially during the first week, I would involuntarily fall asleep while talking to them.  They would then make sure I was comfortable, finish whatever household job they were working on and quietly leave.

Sugar cookies, 7 Layer Bars, Jamba Juice, an Edible Arrangement and cupcakes from Flour Shop Bakery (world’s best cupcakes).

Bath salts and cream to help heal bruising and sore muscles.

Pre-made lunches for all of the kids to bring to school, plus school lunch foodstuffs for the next several days.

A pedicure.  My sister Rachelle is the bomb (not sure if that word is cool anymore, but my sister sure is).

One to two get-well cards (per day!) from Grandma and Grandpa Layer (world’s best grandparents).

***Offensive Language Alert:  The following contains a word that made my 10-year-old’s eyes go wide, even wider when she saw how much I laughed after opening the package. 

A stuffed floral fabric doll with red X’s for eyes, orange yarn hair and this little diddy sewn onto its belly:

Dammit Doll
Whenever things don’t go so well,
And you want to hit the wall and yell,
Here’s a little dammit doll,
That you can’t do without.
Just grasp it firmly by the leg
And find a place to slam it.
And as you whack the stuffing out
Yell “dammit, dammit, dammit!”


A Willow Tree figurine of a woman dressed in white holding a bouquet of roses entitled “Surrounded by Love” (juxtaposition to the above-mentioned doll duly noted).

A shower chair (albeit very helpful, it made me feel . . . well, old).

A walker (ditto to above parenthesis).

$40.  A friend’s mother-in-law was visiting, heard about my accident and gave my friend these instructions along with the money, “This is for the girl who got hit – tell her to use it to buy pizza for her family.”  My friend delivered the money along with an awesome pulled pork dinner.  We ordered pizza from Carmine’s (highly recommend!) at the end of that week.

Although every gift has been tremendous, the two (non-edible) ones that are used the most around here are:

The walker.  My boys delight in pulling the waists of their basketball shorts up past their belly buttons while inching the walker around the house in a stooped-over fashion.  
It’s great fun.



My new doll -- always there when I need her.  We'll be BFF's forever.



My brain fatigues quickly and sometimes malfunctions in curious ways (more on that later), so I have a ways to go.  But I can officially perform basic mom duties like driving, making peanut butter sandwiches and throwing in a load of laundry when the pile gets ridiculous.

Functioning is great and necessary and all, but I find that I miss the company.  Who knew that there were so many selfless, remarkable people in this world?

If you ever find yourself doubting the existence of good-hearted people, you could always wander around a parking lot and hope that an SUV comes round a corner and hits you.

Or you could just give me a call (it's the wimpy way out, but I won't judge).

Either way, your doubts will soon be gone.

3 comments:

  1. Wow! What an experience. I know how you feel. When I had my sinus surgery, I felt extremely blessed. Hugs.

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  2. We know exactly how you feel. Grateful for all the kindnesses that have been and continue to be shown us while my wife recovers. Now to figure out how to pay it forward for the next forever.

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