The Gift of an Appendix Epiphany
There are and always will be unexpected bends along the path that somehow end up fitting in perfectly with your journey even when they seem so wholly incongruous. I woke up Friday morning to a phone call from Mr. Artsy Hotpants, who had been experiencing stomach problems recently, and had gone to the hospital for a battery of tests including a cat scan he was having that morning. Much to his surprise he was told that he had appendicitis, and would need emergency surgery right away - do not pass go, do not collect $200 (more like pay out the wazoo). I called work and told them the honest truth, which sounded quite like a prefab excuse I'm sure, that one of my best friends was having emergency surgery and had no family here and I needed to go to the hospital to be with him. I threw on some clothes, hopped in a cab and began a crazy long lose-any-concept-of-time-and-reality day. Hospitals are so bizarre in that regard, and I realized that there is sort of a universality to them; we could have been anywhere at anytime, hoverring surrealistically in a frenzied regimented limbo land.
I confess that I was scared and worried about my kind loving and wholly giving friend; I chewed both my upper and lower lips into complete oblivion. I ran to get him the things he requested from his apartment an hour away, arranged things in his assigned room while he was in recovery, and managed to somehow arrive in recovery just around the time he was coming to after surgery, despite the hospitals best efforts to send me on a wild goose chase.
Mr. Artsy Hotpants is quite phenomenal and I often think I should try to be more like him. There he was, drugged up and following a common but still rather major surgery, and he's charming the entire hospital staff and remembering everyone's name, thanking them, and making their day. I couldn't even remember my own name, I was so frazzled, and I wasn't the one who had an internal organ removed.
I stayed with him until about 12:30am (I luckily had the foresight to call before he was even admitted and instruct him to tell them I was his sister so that I could have full access to him) and finally left when I heard a tiny snore wrestle free from his forlornly curled up body. I told the nurses that if he woke during the night to tell him that his sister left and would be back first thing in the morning, but if he needed me to phone immediately. My Little Vidipookikins then met me out for a badly needed glass of wine and an edible non-hospital-cafeteria-food meal.
On the way to the restaurant I began thinking about the whole experience - the surreal high octane day ending with watching worriedly over a sleeping form that I realized meant so very much to me in this world. I began thinking about priorities and how we forget, until we are violently jarred into remembering, what's truly important. The confused tangled mass of thoughts and emotions regarding Mr. Emotionally Unavailable rightly receeded into the background, and Mr. Artsy Hotpants and his health was the glaring flashing neon of the moment. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else should have.
More than that, I was given a beautiful gift from Mr. Artsy Hotpants, at the expense of his appendix and physical comfort. My glorious epiphany was that love is letting someone see you in your most vulnerable messiest moments; saying "I need you" and letting the other person be there for you because truthfully they need it as much as you do. Love is asking and accepting as much as it is giving; something I've been historically challenged with. I was honored to be loved and trusted enough to be at his bedside; I was touched that the perpetual giver accepted my love and care in return. This is what any relationship, friendship or otherwise should be. This is the balancing act.
I do not have this type of relationship with Mr. Emotionally Unavailable, who runs faster than I from vulnerability or any sign thereof.
Mr. Artsy Hotpants is doing well; his mother flew in from her vacation in Florida and took over his care Saturday evening. I went on a lovely hike in the Pallisades with Ms. Laughing Wild yesterday, at his request that I keep my plans intact, and checked in telephonically last night. He has expressed his thanks abundantly, but I am the one who is incredibly thankful and indebted for the gift he has given me.
I confess that I was scared and worried about my kind loving and wholly giving friend; I chewed both my upper and lower lips into complete oblivion. I ran to get him the things he requested from his apartment an hour away, arranged things in his assigned room while he was in recovery, and managed to somehow arrive in recovery just around the time he was coming to after surgery, despite the hospitals best efforts to send me on a wild goose chase.
Mr. Artsy Hotpants is quite phenomenal and I often think I should try to be more like him. There he was, drugged up and following a common but still rather major surgery, and he's charming the entire hospital staff and remembering everyone's name, thanking them, and making their day. I couldn't even remember my own name, I was so frazzled, and I wasn't the one who had an internal organ removed.
I stayed with him until about 12:30am (I luckily had the foresight to call before he was even admitted and instruct him to tell them I was his sister so that I could have full access to him) and finally left when I heard a tiny snore wrestle free from his forlornly curled up body. I told the nurses that if he woke during the night to tell him that his sister left and would be back first thing in the morning, but if he needed me to phone immediately. My Little Vidipookikins then met me out for a badly needed glass of wine and an edible non-hospital-cafeteria-food meal.
On the way to the restaurant I began thinking about the whole experience - the surreal high octane day ending with watching worriedly over a sleeping form that I realized meant so very much to me in this world. I began thinking about priorities and how we forget, until we are violently jarred into remembering, what's truly important. The confused tangled mass of thoughts and emotions regarding Mr. Emotionally Unavailable rightly receeded into the background, and Mr. Artsy Hotpants and his health was the glaring flashing neon of the moment. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else should have.
More than that, I was given a beautiful gift from Mr. Artsy Hotpants, at the expense of his appendix and physical comfort. My glorious epiphany was that love is letting someone see you in your most vulnerable messiest moments; saying "I need you" and letting the other person be there for you because truthfully they need it as much as you do. Love is asking and accepting as much as it is giving; something I've been historically challenged with. I was honored to be loved and trusted enough to be at his bedside; I was touched that the perpetual giver accepted my love and care in return. This is what any relationship, friendship or otherwise should be. This is the balancing act.
I do not have this type of relationship with Mr. Emotionally Unavailable, who runs faster than I from vulnerability or any sign thereof.
Mr. Artsy Hotpants is doing well; his mother flew in from her vacation in Florida and took over his care Saturday evening. I went on a lovely hike in the Pallisades with Ms. Laughing Wild yesterday, at his request that I keep my plans intact, and checked in telephonically last night. He has expressed his thanks abundantly, but I am the one who is incredibly thankful and indebted for the gift he has given me.
posted by Le Synge Bleu at 10:55 AM
3 Comments:
I was so lucky to have you. Thank you for everything. You have probably seen me at my best and you have definitely seen me at my worst. I don't know what I would have done had you not been there.
MAH
MAH, I'm the one who's lucky. Thank YOU.
okay kids, let's hug it out.... ;)
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