ThreeThings

They say bad things happen in threes.

First bad thing;10 days ago, Percy, our little corgi, ate a plastic mass that obstructed her small intestine. She had emergency surgery, resulting in a belly incision that runs the length of her long body.

Second bad thing: on Wednesday of last week I fell trying to avoid a pickle ball line drive headed my way. It knocked me off my feet. I put my hand back to catch myself and shattered the radius bone in my wrist into smitherines. I was put into a ridiculously rigid uncomfortable temporary cast that captured my elbow after sobbing for two hours in excruciating pain at the ER with no meds.

Third bad thing: one day later, on Thursday, my mom died after a horrible decline and complicated situation at her board and care home.

I spent the weekend zonked on pain, drugs, and grief. Unable to do the things i usually do to manage stress in my life— walk the dogs and write— I let my wife and daughter take care of me, watching the two loves of my life step up to offer comfort and support.

They did a great job with a difficult to say the least patient. Once the Orthopedic surgeon I visited on Friday told me I couldn’t take CBD with some THC to ease my distress.because of the CBD’s anti-coagulate properties, my mood darkened.

The weekend is a bit of a haze. I spoke to friends and family, trashed my stomach with Advil, joined the opioid crisis by taking hydromorphine that barely seemed to touch my pain, gathered my mother’s things from her place, and cried frequently. The dogs licked my tears and wondered why I was not taking them out on their usual frolics throughout Marin.

Today is Monday, actually now Tuesday, and it is 2 am and I can’t sleep, after returning home from my day spent in outpatient surgery.

My right arm is completely numb from a block the surgeon, a smart Jewish woman from Long Beach with 2 sons who go to our local middle school, instructed the anesthesiologist to put into my IV. The arm and hand feels as dead as my dead mother.

When i got into bed tonight and took the casted arm out of its sling, it flopped away and I panicked. I thought i had lost my arm. Pat thought I was kidding but I was not. “Enough with the loss metaphors,” I text my therapist, using the index finger on my left hand..

Wait, I can still use my left hand! So, does this mean that good things also happen in threes?

First good thing: I can use my dominant left hand. I must be patient with how long the simplest things take me— buttoning my shirt, getting toilet paper from the roll, trying to make food, using my iPhone and computer. There must be something spiritual and good about slowing down but I’m not yet a believer.

Second good thing: i have many people around who love and understand me. My family and friends and support professionals never cease to amaze me with their kindness, resourcefulness, tolerance, insight, and humor. I am used to being in charge, and being extremely competent and efficient, traits I learned from my mother. I do not gracefully accept my disabilities or limitations, and though I feel profoundly grateful for all the help that is coming my way. I’m working on the grace and acceptance parts. I will hug little Sue with love and compassion.

Third good thing: I know that I have been a kind loving daughter to my mother and I have not an ounce of Jewish guilt nor regret.. Because of the dementia and my mother’s unique deficits in the nurturing department, i have been a mo better mother to her than she was to me. But I still love and respect the many facets of her— her intellect, independence, take charge attitude, honesty, sense of humor, willingness to challenge sex role stereotypes, commitment to my dad and our family,

My mom and my relationship with her is complicated and I’ll continue to spend hours in therapy and in my writing unpacking it because I just will. As I look at my daughter, and watch how she has metabolized my example of daughtering and mothering, i know this is all worth the effort.

Sophie returns to Boston tomorrow.. Pat will fly there on Thursday to help her move in to her new studio apartment. I will stay home with the dogs and the dog sitter, who will also keep an eye on me.

I will focus on taking of care of myself and my healing. My bones will mend with a little assistance from a titanium plate newly embedded in my radius. Titanium, is a lustrous silver colored metal that is low density, and high strength. It is resistant to corrosion and is considered a transition chemical. To close with one more metaphor, as I breathe into the pain, this too shall pass.