I’m a planner. A compulsive list maker. A scheduler. There are more names, I’m sure— some probably not so nice—but that’s it, in a nutshell…I am not a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl.
Many disagree with my style (some of them live in my house) but it serves me well. I like things to be orderly and organized. Surprises are not my thing. I may claim that I’ve become more easy going over the years, that juggling kids, pets, jobs, and everything that goes along with all of the above, has made me loosen the reigns a bit. But it would be a lie. My house is full of calendars (God bless the inventor of smartphone calendars!), note pads, and a slew of lists. It’s January 22. I’ve already been looking ahead to next December to see when Christmas falls and to figure how we’ll fit in all of the family obligations.
Some of you know that the past few months have been full of accidents and injuries in our family. For a group that’s been relatively healthy and injury free, we’ve had our share, and more. Most recently, college-aged son Dylan broke his wrist in October. It required surgery, a metal plate and ten screws to put it back together. He missed some school which, of course, stressed me out far more than it did him. Less than a month later, he jumped down a few stairs, landed funny, and managed to break a bone in his leg as well as to tear his ACL and LCL. On top of that, there was some rather inexplicable nerve damage resulting in no feeling or movement in his lower leg and foot. More missed school and definitely not on any of my calendars or lists.
It’s been a long haul involving an MRI, an EMG, and several doctor visits, but surgery was finally scheduled for this morning to repair the ACL and to do something called a nerve decompression to hopefully relieve the pressure on the nerve thereby getting it firing again. We brought Dylan home from school last night, got up at 4:00 this morning, left at 5:00 to arrive at the hospital at 6:00 only to find that Dylan’s surgeon (the third orthopedic specialist we’ve seen and one of only a handful in the area to deal with unusual cases such as his) had called in sick.
I think I stared at the surgery receptionist for a full minute before I spoke. I don’t think I cried but I can’t be certain. Long story short, we left the hospital just minutes after arriving. My emotions ran the gamut…frustrated for another schedule shot to pieces; guilty for “strongly encouraging” my husband to take the day off to be at the hospital, now, for no reason; and broken-hearted for my son facing yet another set-back on what’s been a long and painful journey.
When we got home, husband and son immediately crawled back into their respective beds. I brewed some more coffee and pulled out my calendar. It’s what I do, and it’s what gets me through.
This blog post was written on 1-22-16 but, for some reason, I never posted it. I suppose it wasn't on one of my lists of things to do!