The Unwanted Elephant

I have a hunch that - a large portion of my readers are currently in a relatively steady state. Whether they’re smoothly sailing through life or struggling with a terminal illness, they are each juggling their own set of variables in a way that maximizes joy and minimizes suffering. They’ve developed coping mechanisms and strategies to keep their heads above whatever water they’re immersed in. We all do this, though it’s obvious that some do it with more finesse than others.

And this system usually works until some unknown variable rocks the boat.

“Seesaw” by Michael Garland

My wife Emily and I were drifting along fairly well, encountering the usual ripples and fluctuating currents that make life interesting. She was scheduled for a fairly routine, albeit major, operation. Being in good condition, of an ideal weight, and with no significant risk factors, we were thinking she might encounter some class 2 rapids at the worst. We figured a couple weeks downstream we’d find her and her new hip well on their way toward the good life.

After much waiting, February 13th rolled around. I could tell by the way the orthopedic surgeon sat down next to me after the case, that all did not go well. He was struggling to maintain eye contact. “While we were enlarging the hole down your wife’s thigh bone, her femur split a little”. He assured me that he’d wired it back together and that she’d probably do “just fine".” Then he added - “She can’t put ANY weight on her right foot for six to eight weeks but at that point she can start rehab.” Over a couple hours, two weeks had turned into three months and that’s well into Emily’s cherished gardening season.

We were on our way out of the hospital the next day, Emily in a lot of pain and both of us deflated. Our nursing assistant “Judy” was pushing the wheel chair onto the elevator as she greeted a colleague straight ahead - “Happy Valentines Day - Kathy”. The fiftyish year old woman tried to smile - “My Valentine went up to heaven just about this time last year”. We three shared our condolences and Kathy went on her way. As we neared the exit door Judy confided - “I’ve worked with Kathy for years and I had no idea she’d lost her husband”.

Three days after our return home, Emily was showing signs of a wound infection. So we headed back to the same hospital - her with cellulitis and me with a “tad bit” of anger at her having to deal with a second complication. She was placed on IV antibiotics, got great care and over the next three days made substantial progress.

While we were there, Rachel, one of Emily’s many RN’s, was starting an IV infusion. My wife made a comment to the effect - “One small bug in the ointment can sure play havoc with your plans.” Rachel gave a quick nod, finished up, adjusted her blankets, and turned toward the door. With her hand on the knob, she hesitated and then turned toward Emily. “I know what you’re talking about. Two years ago we were just enjoying our healthy three year old daughter. The next thing we knew, we were primary caregivers for a brain cancer patient.“

Though it took more than a year of suffering through operations, chemo and radiation therapy, her daughter was beating the odds by even being alive. But every day, as this kind and competent woman tends to the needs of others, she carries the uncertainty of not even knowing if her child will have a future. Had not Rachel turned around, we would have never imagined what a challenging life she and her husband lived.

Fast forward two days. Emily and her walker were painstakingly making their way between our sofa and a chair as I approached from the opposite direction. She asked “do you want to change places?” She meant, “ do you want me to move over?” I thought she meant - would you rather be in my shoes?

Over the years, having volunteered at a telephone crisis center and subsequently having seen thousands of patients as a physician assistant, I’ve come to realize that not one of us has lived an easy life. Lacking things like privilege or good health can certainly make life extra difficult. But, no matter how good someone looks on the outside, no matter how wealthy, attractive, smart, or accomplished someone appears, only they know the heavy duty shit they have to deal with. I’m not interested in changing places with anyone - especially my wife who has to deal with recovery from surgery AND me at the same time.

For the Sequel to this post , see

“Let Justice Roll Down Like Water”