When my daughter was young we always made her send thank you notes. I came cross this one when I was digitizing some of my mom’s old family photos. I love the simplicity — and truthfulness — of Molly’s words.
“Thank you for coming to my (birthday) party. I loved the money you gave me.”
It’s The Small Things
Just last week, I was reminded, once again, that it is the small things in life that matter. I had gotten up at 1 a.m. to let the dog out. I laid back down when, it felt like five minutes later, she needed out again. So I got up, looked over at the clock — it said 2:34 — and then walked out the bedroom door.
That’s where my memory gets blurry.
I remember being on the floor in front of the bathroom (it is next to the bedroom) and feeling considerable pain in my upper back and neck region — almost as if someone was pushing me down. Amy, of course, woke up because I yelled when I fell. She asked if I was okay — and then proceeded to let the dog out.
Now, I must interject here, I have been known to trip and fall – a lot. Several years ago, I tripped over my feet, fell out my front door — and broke my shoulder in three places. Almost six months to the day, I fell down the steps of my patio and broke my left wrist.
So, Amy presumed I had tripped.
Fall No. 2
The next thing I remember is lying face first on the bathroom floor. Fortunately, I had not done the laundry for a couple of days so the dirty towels broke my fall. (Let that be a lesson to all the clean freaks, dirty towels can be a life saver).
The pain was still very strong, but now I was unable to even sit up. I was confused, I knew something was physically wrong. I was thinking ‘it can’t end this way.’ This way meaning, of course, facedown in a pile of dirty clothes. My brain was foggy, but I could see Amy’s worried expression. (I later learned I was sweating profusely, my color was gone and my lips were blue). I remember telling Molly, this is why we need to keep the laundry done. Amy said, that’s not why you fell and Molly said, I think he’s trying to be funny.
That when I knew it would not end this way, because — when I want to be — I am funny.
Don’t Take My Fitbit
It’s odd what becomes important to an addled brain. It defies logic. I wear a Fitbit and as I lay/half-sat on the bathroom floor I felt the need to remove it. Amy asked me to leave it on (it monitors my heartrate), but I said, “they’ll take it.” When Amy told this to the ER doctor, he laughed and said, “We do love Fitbits, but we really don’t steal them.”
Success is Costly
At the hospital, the doctor blamed the episode on my medicine. Because I was so successful in my weight-loss efforts (I weigh 214 after peaking at 260) my blood pressure medication was now too strong. The extra dosage caused my blood pressure to drop — and my knees to buckle.
Apparently losing weight was not supposed to feel good.
I’ll admit, though, had I known that losing weight would cause me to pass out, I would have done things differently. Instead of pushing my chair away from the table and snacking on fruits or vegetables, I would have slid my chair up closer and settled in for an extended stay.
And I definitely would have eaten a second — or third — helping of blueberry cheesecake.
Even if it did turn my lips blue.