Twenty Seven Isn’t Just A Number
It’s a number. A number I’ve tried to avoid. In fact, I’ve spent the past year trying to bypass it. People ask about it and I shrug it off.
To most people it’s just a number. To me it’s much more.
It represents a significant time in my life. Despite my avoidance it’s still quickly approaching and I must come to terms with it.
Twenty seven is:
*The number of times I’m sure I told the fireman holding my hand, “Please tell them it wasn’t my fault.”
*The number of days I was on morphine.
*How many days passed before I was able to kiss my son.
*How old I was when I celebrated my birthday in the hospital after the accident.
*How old I was when my grandmother and cousin died within 3 weeks of each other.
*The number of doctors, specialists and surgeons I’ve been seen by.
*The number of months I spent in physical and occupational therapy.
*The number of times I’ve prayed silently, please no more.
When twenty six came around last January I prayed that it would end. That this would be as high as it got, but I knew it wasn’t over. I am thankful for the months in between, but that dread has set in yet again.
I’m familiar with the routine. Usually, I spend the month before fretting about the pain, worrying about whether or not it will be worth it and how our lives will go during the weeks I re-cooperate.
I know that I am not easy to live with after surgery, but my husband and family have all put up with me twenty six times. They know the aftermath of anesthesia, staples and crutches all too well.
And today the number represents how many days until we do it all over again.
My name is Emily. I’m 30 years old. I have often been told that I ask a lot of questions, but I think I have more to say than ask.
oh honey. You are a strong one.
Sorry to hear you’re facing another surgery! I’ll be thinking about you~
I can imagine that the countdown is horrible. I will be thinking of you.
I’ll be praying for you. Let me know if you need any help with Ethan.
I wish you all the best.
You could write a self-help book about how to deal with surgery…
I’m so sorry you are plagued by this number…So I wish you 27 hugs, and 27 good thoughts, and I will say your name 27 times. Hugs….and my best to you…
Dorothy from grammology
remember to call your gram
I’m so sorry you have to go through all this again. My thoughts are with you.
I’m so sorry. Wishing you easy times and fast healing.
You’ll be blessed always.
stay strong sweet heart. we’re with you all the way..27. 28. how many it takes!
You can do this, Em! We’ll all be rooting for you.
You’re incredibly strong. I’m sorry that you’ve had to suffer through all of this.
Hi Emily, I’m just popping in via the link on Slouching Mom’s site… Just wanted to let you know that I was here and I’m thinking of you tonight as you face this surgery.
[…] anything concise. The same thoughts keep running through my mind as I mentally prepare for yet another surgery on […]