In times of trouble, who could ask for better friends than these? As far as tough times go, these photos are from one of the toughest times in our marriage…. when my hubby separated his Achilles Tendon and had 3 or 4 surgeries (see, I’ve already blocked the details…) The picture on the left is of our friends, Andrew Edwin and Jill Rene, who loving brought my convalescing husband his favorite dessert (black forest cake), a stack of movies for his week of confinement on the couch and they fully bandaged and wrapped themselves in sympathy. Yes, Andy’s eye is taped shut and Jill is sporting a wrist brace. Such thoughtful people. As if Rick’s wound sucking machine attached to his leg would be less noticeable with these two around.
And Darla. Little did she know the detour her day would take with one simple phone call to my house. I’ll give you the brief rundown of the morning. I awoke to find that the washing machine had died. Kaput. Do not resuscitate. DEAD. The kids slept over and Grandma and Grandpa’s house because Rick had surgery #3 early that morning. Surgery went reasonably well, except for the entertaining hallucinations Rick experienced coming out of the anesthesia. He insisted that someone stole his shoes, his wallet and his clothes. He repeatedly asked in a LOUD voice for beer in the wake-up room (he doesn’t drink beer!?!) I was WAY too uncomfortable to bring him home in that state, so we hung out for a while until my real husband partially returned. We did make it home, but only to discover that Grandma had nearly passed out at her house and my kids had to call 911 to get the paramedics. They were in the emergency waiting room by themselves. I couldn’t leave my newly discovered boozer alone, so I called my brother to gather my children from the hospital.
Then the downstairs toilet, which my drugged husband would require, backed up all over my tile floors. Disgusting. Called the plumber. Called the home builder. Called the plumber again. THEN, my Dad, who was at the hospital with mom, decided to walk across the street to grab a bite to eat and GOT HIT BY A CAR. Good grief. He was banged-up but ok. He had Mom’s emergency room doctor check him out since it was so handy.
Enter: Darla’s phone call to see how surgery went. I lost it. I’m not sure which incident was the straw that broke the camel’s back…. the washer…. the start of a week of nursing my husband who had a gaping leg wound…. my mother needing an ambulance ride…. my children having to take care of their passing-out Grandma… the toilet… the kids being left unattended in the hospital…. my dad getting hit by a car…. So within the hour Darla arrived to clean my stinky tile floors wearing this attractive outfit. “It sounded like you needed comic relief,” she professed. So true.
I love these friends. Everyone needs friends like these. Thanks guys.
My Sister's Jar 