Dear readers;
Please forgive me for neglecting you for ever so long, but I had a really good reason and could even produce a note, if necessary.
Mimi had surgery!
And it was a Christmas miracle. First of all, we were on the merry-go-round of tests, more tests, and tests to get us to the next tests, for the past five months. Her mystery ailment alluded the finest medical minds I was able to gather up. Meanwhile, she was wilting before our eyes.
So one Thursday morning at Mass, I told Jesus, “It’s all yours. I can’t carry this another second. You decide what to do with her. Tag – you’re it.”
Within an hour and a half, we had an appointment with a surgeon. Four days later we sat in his office as he explained his plan to fix Mimi, once and for all.
“Sounds great,” I said. “How about tomorrow?”
“I’m busy tomorrow. How about Thursday?” (Surgeons don’t mess around!)
It was a blessing that we only had two days to prepare. It cut down considerably on “dread time”, and there was plenty to dread. Surgery is always a risky deal for the over 80 crowd, especially lung surgery. But Mimi has special needs. Because of her muscular dystrophy, issues of balance, fear of falling, and the ever present terror of getting cold (requiring temperature regulation gymnastics usually reserved for pet lizards) make a trip to the hairdresser a major event. We managed to navigate all the ”regular” stuff, but it was the ”after surgery confusion” (nearly universal among the elderly) that made our fifty-hour hospital stay seem like fifty days. And not just for us! (She hadn’t been in the hospital since 1963, and I’m sure the staff hopes it’s another fifty years before we show up again).
Fast forward – the surgery was successful, Mimi finally gathered her wits again, and we accomplished a bloodless coup, hiring Mina, the Mennonite wonder-worker.
We’re getting sort of back to normal.
