My mother is in the ICU with a septic infection. It has been a scary few days, and I am beginning to experience new levels of tired. I am starting to pray specifically that my adrenal glands will live through this season of life; they are being tested to the limit. My apologies to those beloved glands.
Mom is healing, slowly, although tonight she seemed a bit off. Her numbers are better, but I had a weird feeling when I was with her. I hope to see more improvement in blood pressure numbers and a lessening number of meds. dripping into her well-stabbed left arm when I visit in the morning.
Someday I will bore you for paragraphs about the medical care we have in our community. We had the famous gold rush years in the 1840s...but that is nothing compared to the dedication and love of the physicians in our town. I am stunned and grateful and I am quite certain my mother would not be here today if not for their service to us.
For now I must sleep...hopefully for a really long time...but I leave you with these beautiful words from Wendell Berry:
Out his window this morning
he saw nine ducks in flight,
and a hawk dive at his mate
The day stands apart
from the calendar. There is a will
that receives it as enough.
He is given a fragment of time
in this fragment of the world.
He likes it pretty well.From Poem #13 in Window Poems.
I like it pretty well, too, this fragment of the world on which I live and breathe and have my being. I've read this book, cover to cover, in the hospital waiting room, and it is soothing, melodic, homespun comfort. Just what the doctor ordered.