So here it is December 23rd and I have just spent the last few minutes sobbing while listing to my favorite secular Christmas song--Wham's Last Christmas. I don't know why it hit me so hard. I have been alone for the past thirty years and my twenty-two year marriage was awful. Maybe it's because it is the warmest December on record where I live--61 degrees today and no chance of snow.
Or maybe it is simply because I have never had anyone special in my life that I ever felt really safe with or longed to be around. Abuse in all its hideous forms can really do a number on any tender heart and mine has certainly taken a beating over the years. I even got so melancholy that I sent a text to an old flame of two and half years ago telling him I wished we were still friends. Thankfully, it didn't go through because I do not
want to rekindle what is best left behind. But I sure feel lonely right now.
It's been a rough few months. After my last post I broke my right hand while flying model airplanes with my grandson. He had just turned twelve and I hadn't seen him for over two years. We had plans to go to the huge airplane museum on the Air Force base not far from my house. But they had been here less than twelve hours when I tripped and landed hand down on the concrete. So instead of heading there as planned, they took me to Insta-care where I found out that the top part of the bone right below my baby finger had snapped completely off.
The nurse put my arm and hand in a brace that extended beyond the ends of my fingers but didn't offer me anything for the pain. By then we had lost over an hour from when we had planned on going and there were only a couple of hours left until the museum closed, so I told my son-in-law to drive us straight there. By the time we were finished looking at most everything I was in incredible pain. Needless to say, I could no longer fix any of the meals that had been planned and felt like a complete fool.
Three days later, after everyone had gone home, a sweet neighbor took me back to get my lovely blue cast put on. I thought shoulder surgery twenty months before was bad, but nothing I have ever experienced was more awkward than not being able to use my dominant hand. The cast was heavy, my fingers could barely move and taking care of bodily needs was almost impossible. Since I had not been prepared for such an injury,
it wasn't long until I had eaten everything manageable in the house and I wasn't allowed to drive. That's when I got really creative with my meals, but I somehow managed.
I was supposed to spend two weeks with my sister visiting at her house and going to Branson, Missouri, to see friends and watch them perform, but I couldn't even comb my hair or put on any makeup. I told her there was no way I could come. But she replied that our condo reservation was non-refundable at that late date and she would take care of me if I would just get on the plane. Now, I hate looking awful in public so that was a huge concession on my part, but when I went back three weeks later to see if the swelling had gone down and the bone was starting to regrow, I told the doctor I wanted a removable brace instead of another cast. He explained the dangers of going that way since it offered far less protection, but I was adamant in my demands. I needed to at least be able to shower without putting my arm in a bread bag.
That was a very strange trip. I wore jeans and a baseball cap and very little makeup because my fingers were too stiff and my hand still too swollen to hold anything, but I had learned how to do a few things with my left hand without poking out one of my eyes. One of my friends told me I looked more relaxed than he had ever seen me, and the old flame I mentioned earlier pretty much ignored me until the last time he came down to dance with me. That's when he had to tell me that he wished he could hold me closer but my arm was in the way.
I wished he could too because I had really missed his attention, but I wasn't feeling the greatest. My sister had taken me for a facial and I was having a bad reaction to something that had been used. My face was starting to break out in a horrible red, raised and itchy rash. By the time we got back to her house the next day I looked like something out of a horror movie. I did the best I could not to scare anyone, but the morning after I got home I was back at Insta-care.
The doctor I saw put me on a heavy-duty steroid ointment that made the rash on my cheeks start to go away but then it began to spread around my eyes. They were red, blotchy and puffy and I thought I might be getting a sinus infection on top of the rash so I went to a different clinic. The doctor there said the ointment wouldn't work and I needed an oral steroid. I had been on those before and knew they would make my blood sugar worse--which they certainly did--but I had been dealing with the rash for over a month by then and wanted to look less awful for Thanksgiving. He gave me a referral to a dermatologist just in case.
So a week later I went to see him. He said he had never seen anything quite like it before and prescribed a last resort treatment--huge horse pills that smelled something awful and that doctors gave to people who'd had heart, liver and kidney transplants. What I had was an auto-immune issue and that would take care of it. My insurance would only cover half the cost and I was left with a $60 co-pay. But after praying about the advisability of taking them, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. The side-effects were simply too great and I figured the rash had to go away on its own eventually. And it pretty much has an entire month later.
So my face is finally looking somewhat normal and the bone has started to regrow in my hand. I am even able to start strengthening therapy which is very slow and rather painful at times. But I have been able to accomplish everything that has been required of me like hosting a Christmas dinner for all the ladies at church, fixing treats for all my neighbors and even getting my tree up. Presents have been wrapped, sent off and placed under my tree, but my days and nights are still spent alone.
Nonetheless, my heart is filled with gratitude for my Savior's birth and the most amazing and greatest gift that he so unselfishly gave to all mankind. I will never fully understand its true significance or the kind of eternal and selfless love that prompted it. I am much too mortal for that, but I love seeing the Christmas lights, listening to the music of the season and spending time learning more about the Christ child who became the greatest man the world will ever know.
How I treasure all the blessings he sends my way, his guidance, protection, understanding, encouragement and constant presence in my life if I just allow it. It really doesn't matter quite so much what is going on throughout the world during this special season of the year. While I long for my Savior's return and his blessed millennial reign, I am just grateful to be alive and believe what I do. Chaos may surround me, but as long I never forget who I am, why I am here and where I someday hope to be I can feel inner peace and joy.
So to any of my unknown friends out there who are going through their own challenges and often feel very much alone, I send my love, my prayer and my understanding of their pain and heartache. God resides in his heaven and is there each time we reach out to him. He sends special angels into our lives when we need them and allows us to be angels of light and peace to others who need us.
What a glorious season it is. So I will turn on my tree lights tonight, listen to some of my favorite Christmas songs and allow the beauty of this amazing season to wash over me so the tears do not return. Tomorrow is another day and I know there will be someone I can reach out to with the kind of love my Savior so graciously offers me.
