Ain’t got nothing but love babe
Eight days a week
My story turned out to be nine days, instead of the famous “Eight Days a Week” . . . but I couldn’t help referring to this old favorite. On the ninth day, my husband Edward finally got out of the hospital after falling and breaking his hip and elbow and then having surgery on his hip. Not only is he learning how to stand and balance and walk with a new hip (at 91) with his arm splinted, but I am again learning the balance between taking loving care of someone I love and taking loving care of me.
It didn’t take long to figure out I had to come home and sleep a few hours or I wouldn’t be any good to stay with him all day. I know I talk and write and teach about taking loving care of yourself . . . and it’s always humbling to be reminded that it’s not easy and very necessary to do. It takes some figuring out, some surrendering, some trusting. It takes allowing (my word for 2021) myself to be supported by the most loving, caring people I am privileged to have in my life. And some of them remind me of what I’ve said over the years about Love and trust and self care . . . they are not going to let me forget and they will hold my feet to the fire. How grateful I am to them!
We are finally home. Ed is sleeping on the hospital bed in the living room. Wheelchair and walker and other supportive equipment are at the ready. He needs to rebuild his strength, so right now it is difficult for him to stand and walk. We both need compassion for ourselves and the situation. And baby steps. Literally baby steps for him in learning to navigate; and for me in being willing to nurture and nourish myself so I can take care of him.
So once again, it’s all about Love. For him, for myself. Eight days a week, nine days a week . . . and beyond. Baby step at a time.