Yesterday, she endured seven hours of an adverse reaction to morphine. Had the admitting nurses noted her chart correctly two weeks ago, they would've known NOT to administer her an Opiate drug. I won't go on about the ordeal, as it was extremely traumatic. I'd like to think it was an honest mistake, and that they will now care for our Nana like she was their Nana. One can only hope.
As the matriarch of our family lies in her hospital bed, with many color-coded tubes running in and out of her frail body, I am saddened today. Thanksgiving is usually spent at her home, as we all bustle around her cramped kitchen preparing dinner.
I ask that you count your blessings today as you sit around your table. Consider yourself lucky to be sitting with your loved ones, friends & family. I'm comforted by the mere fact that Nana probably has no clue it's Thanksgiving today.
With all of the current stress in the family, my writing spark has dwindled. I can't find it at the moment. I feel like Sweet Polly Purebred, searching for her Underdog. "Where, oh where has my writing spark gone? Oh where, oh where can it be?" Then along with not writing comes the crushing guilt of not writing. It's a vicious cycle.
As I sit here, typing this post, it occurs to me that I must cut myself some slack. Relax. Take a breath. Do some yoga and just be. Be happy that Nana is alive. Be content with what I have written in the past and all that I WILL write in the future.
Hmmm...what a novel idea! Be happy with what I have. Count my own blessings.
I think I'll get in the kitchen and bake those Spiced Rum Pecan Pies I've been meaning to bake for the holiday.
Happy Thanksgiving, my friends & followers.
May your day be beautiful.