There are many things for which I strive for excellence. There is one, however, which requires no effort on my part. I was born a genius--a prodigy--an artistic savant--and that is in the Art of Avoidance. Usually, my skill shows up in mundane tasks. I really don't want to clean out the fridge, so I do 4 loads of laundry. I don't want to wash particularly nasty dishes, so I weed the front beds. It's not really a conscience act--I just find that suddenly I am completing the alternate task. This last week, I've discovered another arena that puts my avoiding into overdrive--the nastiness of life.
When difficult things happen, my sweet sister blogs them in eloquent detail and feels so much better for the effort. Note the following blog entry: Tender Mercies. When difficulties rage in my life, I do anything but face them by writing them down. My mom is in the hospital recovering from a severe case of bacterial spinal meningitis (I know that is spelled correctly because I've googled it many times in the last week). She lay in the ICU for seven days in a coma, while we waited for her to wake up. She spent the next three in a highly confused state, having hallucinations and delusions. Let me tell you, there is nothing worse than waiting in a hospital for ANYTHING to happen, and waiting for anyone on staff to tell you something besides "We Don't Know." On the other hand, there have been many blessings along the way, starting with my dad flying down to Arizona the night before my mom was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance (the subject of Jen's blog entry). You'd think with my love of writing, that somehow I would feel better journaling the experience, but I can't believe the repulsion I feel to writing while I am in the midst of it all. I think I must put up a huge wall, trying to protect myself from fear and sorrow.
It isn't until the experience is approaching the end that I finally decide to write the account in its entirety.
It's been 12 days with my mom, and I think I finally feel safe looking back on what has happened. She's awake, out of ICU, back to a somewhat-normal mental state, and maybe coming off the feeding tube tomorrow. What a relief. A huge relief.
I've learned so much about faith, hope, and the invaluable relationships I have with family and friends. My family is truly blessed. I've also learned how to deal with doctors and hospitals, but this last lesson is one I hope I never have to use again in real life.
