Home again, and glad of it

 

Feeling vulnerable as I leave the hospital

Wow. Just wow! What an amazing week for our nation and for me and my family. Personally I am reminded of the time Jamie, quite young, said to a family friend, “Laster night I did get scared, and I did sleep with my mommy and daddy. And tonight, I am going to get scared all over again.” Unlike Jamie, I don’t want to repeat either the trauma of the last four years or of the week of my hospitalization, but there were some high points.

One was a chance to visit with two of my out-of-town children (the third was kept away by Covid exposure). I was fortunate enough to be in a facility where I could have one caretaker every twenty-four hours. Jamie and Megan each did two shifts and then Jordan took the last two nights and one full day. We watched CNN endlessly during the roll-up to inauguration, half with anxiety, more with pride. We talked politics, we reminisced, we even laughed and took silly pictures of the mom in the hospital. We agonized over meals—hospital dietary restrictions are no fun. And in the dark of the night, I was oh so grateful for their presence.

If Jordan and I had been home Wednesday going about our daily routine, I know we would have watched the celebration, but probably not with the intensity we gave it as a captive audience. As it was, we hung on every minute, beginning with the impressive memorial Tuesday night for the victims of COVID. Vice-president Harris put it just right when she said we have grieved separately and now we come together, although still apart, to mourn our great losses. To me, that ceremony demonstrated that America can do pageants right—not meaningless pomp and circumstance but occasions that remind us of who we are: a nation of caring, compassionate people (for the most part).

There is not a lot left to be said about Wednesday’s events that has not already been said. Yes, it was inspiring; yes, it was repetitious, with messages of challenge and opportunity and unity; yes, it was traditional, from speeches to music to fireworks which were, to my memory, some of the grandest televised fireworks I’ve seen. But it was what we needed to hear. As American as potato salad and hot dogs on the Fourth of July. We need those reminders of who we can be.

President Biden—doesn’t that sound solid and good? —obviously recognizes his many challenges and got right to work on them. He knows—and we do too—that restoring our national unity won’t be easy, but he also knows that doing nothing is not an option. He has wanted the presidency for thirty-four years, I think because he truly thinks he can do something for the country he loves. I’ve heard that he decided to make one final run at the presidency because he was so horrified by the events of the 2017 Charlottesville riot and the “good people on both sides.” I know there are many who are already criticizing him, but in my opinion, he is a truly sincere man who has, as he said, put his whole soul into the work of making America what it was meant to be.

As for me, I am home, battered, bruised, but better, with some lifestyle changes to think about. I need to learn that I am not invincible, that it’s not crying “Wolf,” to admit to health problems, that I can’t solve everything by sheer willpower. I am not twenty-four anymore, and I need to recognize it. I am, however, so grateful for good care at Harris Southwest—amazing personnel who were so kind and pleasant. And most of all grateful for my family, who inevitably fly to my side when I need them. Life is good, and I’ll bounce back.

Want to do your part? Wear your mask, social distance, and wash your hands. And try not to criticize for these first hundred days—give the new administration a chance.