Pretty Lucky Life

Dad's lung collapsed the night after surgery. Pneumothorax, the medical term for collapsed lung, is rectified fairly easily by inserting a chest tube on the side of the body where the lung is collapsed. But for my dad, this is just one more point of entry for various bacteria.

My dad has always been stoic and strong, proud of his eight year stint in the Marines. Although only five foot ten inches tall, I would marvel at his strength when I was young, watching him pick our 19 foot boat up by the trailer hitch and walk it to the hitch on our truck.

He's always been so proud of his chest and the hair on it, as if it's some hallmark of masculinity. Now, because of the total sternal resection, his chest is sunken in, hairless and covered with scars and suture lines. He shakes from pain, then becomes suspicious and acts oddly after a morphine injection.

My poor dad. I want to do something, would do anything I could to help him or heal him, but there's nothing I can do but watch from the sidelines, helpless.

Similarly, there's nothing I can do for Kahlua, who vomited up blood again last night. I think the time has come to put her down, but it kills me to think of this. But I cannot think of myself. She is suffering.

This year, I am thankful for my parents. I am thankful for finding a part of myself again in my dogs; I am thankful for my dogs, who make me so happy -- they have truly been a joyful distraction from all the stress of life. I am thankful for my marriage, my kids and my husband. I am thankful for my house, however much work it needs! I am thankful for having worked at the hospital almost six years; I am thankful for my job.

And every one of these things, at one point or another, has made me completely crazy! There are days I ask myself "why FIVE dogs?" or "why did I have another child?" or "did I really mean it when I said 'for better or worse?'"

But ultimately, when I look at my life, it's a pretty lucky life. I am fortunate. I might forget it sometimes...but I know I am.

Namaste