Not an ideal way to work up an appetite – have a crying 7 year old puke in your hand just before lunch.
I think motherhood has made me immune to the effects of such events but I almost lost my assistant. We decided to try again another day. Maybe sedation will calm him a bit.
Sure hope so.
For those of you following the progress of Aunty Florence – while I was down in the OR on Friday, the ward called. She was ready to be discharged. So after work, I took her back home to the care home. Then went to arrange for the changes in medications. Saturday, I was in Saskatoon but I called and she seems to be doing well.
However with our frigid temperatures I decided we would not tempt fate and have her come out to church this morning. It was such a cold wind that it chilled a person to the bone – and her bones are frail enough on a warm day!
Yesterday was the third meeting with my supervisor in spiritual direction out of the four meetings required for the course I am taking. Only one left to meet the requirements. Already I am hoping that the relationship we have begun to build will continue.
One of the things I appreciate the most is the encouragement she gives me. Perhaps she is one of those people with the gift of encouragement. Whatever – that is what happens.
I can remember the first meeting when there were four potential supervisors in the room and I was discussing what I needed with them. Something about Marijka seemed to say “Choose me. We could do this together.” That connection drew me to her and, as well, she was the most accommodating for times we could meet.
It has been a good thing. Trust has grown between us and in that trust I have been able to discuss openly where I feel I’ve listened well and where I have not; where I have fallen into my personal pitfall – that tendency to need to fix things, to make it all better, and where my own insecurities hovering close to the surface have kept me from paying attention to God.
I don’t know that I have ever before experienced quite this kind of relationship – encouraging, sharing, teaching and leading me into this new role that I am being trained for. It is like having a private tutor. But better.
Wendy tagged me with a meme – so here goes.
Six non-important things about myself:
- When I am looking through a magazine I usually start at the back. And I have no idea why.
- I have a huge fear of heights. Especially high bridges. Driving over them makes me feel as if I am going to drive over the edge so I keep my eyes fixed on the car or lane immediately in front. Walking over such a bridge would probably make me sick. Flying for me, however, is perfectly fine.
- Back in the 60’s when going braless was a sign of impending feminism, my girlfriend and I decided to do it while we were the head cooks at our church camp. I doubt that anyone noticed. We were both skinny and flat chested.
- I do not like to have to take any medication in liquid form. I do not like to have to taste stuff like that. Unfortunately, most liqueurs also have the same effect on me and remind me vaguely of cough syrup.
- I have a built in navigational sense that lets me, most times, retrace my route to a place I have visited before. It is best if I was doing the driving but most times I can sense the way somehow even if I could not tell anyone else how to get to the destination.
- I love shoes. I love the feel of good leather and the comfort of a good fit. I love unique colours and style. Most of all I love it when a good shoe has both comfort and style and comes in my size.
I won’t name names but if you want to do this consider yourself tagged.
Well, it seems as if my aunt will be in the hospital over the weekend. Nothing momentous has happened but the doctor wants to get some things regulated before she goes home. Some changes in meds, etc.
So, if anyone feels like going up for a visit she is in room 506. I’ll be fetching her walker and things for her so she can feel a bit more at home. Not being at home is stressful for her.
I have spent a considerable amount of time over the past few days thinking about my aunt. A lot of the time has just been remembering stuff. Like the bridesmaids dresses she so generously let me and my sisters try on and wear for dress up outside in my grandparents back yard. Like the way I idolized her as the epitome of a single woman – just the kind of woman I wanted to be. Till I grew up a bit more and realized that being single is not necessarily easy and fun.
I am always correcting the nurses now when they call her Mrs Dice. Maybe that is an honorary title bestowed on sweet older women by virtue of age. I think she would protest a bit – in a sweet way – that no, she was never married.
When she became ill on Sunday, I sat beside her in the emergency room. She was hot and fevered, a bit confused by what the infection she had did to her electrolytes. Such a tiny light woman. Easily moved into the bed, although her hip that has not healed well makes her flinch a bit. As I sat there, I realized how much I love my aunt. Lots of people love her but she is my aunty for real. The bond of love goes back a long way. Back to my own childhood.
I wonder who will be caring for me in another thirty years. I hope they look at me with love.
Yesterday I returned from the women’s retreat and was up in my room reading and working on a post about the retreat when the phone rang. Grace McK was on the line. Aunty Florence wasn’t feeling well, was very shaky and a bit more disoriented than usual. I sent them off straight to the hospital and left to meet them there.
I stopped on the way to pick my aunt’s health info but in my haste to leave I forgot to take along my book.
Aunt Florence probably has a urinary tract infection and was admitted till things get straightened out with the infection and her electrolytes but I think that she will be OK.
Next time maybe I will think to bring a book. At least I had my i- touch to entertain me writing little notes like this to post later.