I have been cleaning out our office in preparation for moving Marty to a larger room and adding a larger bed for her, much like we have at the LakeHouse. So far what I have done is create a pretty colossal mess. There are files and papers thrown all over the room and I pretend like I'm organizing when what I am really doing is, very simply creating a larger mess than what it was before. Organization, like patience, is not my strong suit.
In my purging of all things old and unused I have managed to throw away all of Marty's old medical bills, some of her old files and a lot of junk paperwork. While doing the purge I have found some treasures, like all of the cards Marty received after her ruptured aneurism in 2005, the first event.
Marty and I sat outside yesterday afternoon in our backyard. It was just too nice not to spend some time outdoors. Marty still doesn't feel great and the anti-seizure meds create, as she calls, "mind fog". Keppra does the intended job but the unintended consequence of the medication is there -- "mind fog".
While we sat outside I read her all, yes all, of the old cards and the notes many of you sent almost five years ago. I have to say it's still quite (Sarah, is that the right quiet?) moving to read of all of the support, love and prayers so many people sent our way. It was an awful period of time in our life that we survived. I used to take those cards up to ICU and read them to Marty, over and over again, even while she was in a coma.
I think Marty enjoyed hearing them more yesterday than she did then. I asked her how all of those cards made her feel and even with the "mind fog" she summed it up so well with just one word, "worthwhile". I think people in Marty's stage of life often feel unworthy of the care, the love, the kindness people show them because they can't do what they would normally do to reciprocate. The love she sees from her family and friends and the words of all of those people who reached out to her show all of she is worthy.
What a remarkable gift, a remarkable gift I'm just beginning to understand. This is why all of those thoughts and prayers and kind words mean so much. It makes even the least of us, the sickest among us, feel "worthwhile".