This has been a strange month.....normally, I love September; a gradual change in the seasons, with its own endearing qualities....a shift in the type of daily activities, weekend must-dos, and clothes in the closet. But this year, September has been just a bit wacko. It began and ended with fairly ferocious rainstorms, which wouldn't be a big deal if it were November or January, but is unusual for September. During the first week, darling husband's brother arrived (TOTAL surprise to His Highness) for said husband's 60th birthday celebration. The actual birthday, mind you, was a full month earlier, but I think too much of a good thing is wonderful, so we stretched out the celebrations for about 6 weeks: first, a backyard BBQ with assorted friends from the neighborhood, the office, and our church; next, an actual day-of party with just the two of us and one son; and last, a wine-tasting event at Maryhill Winery in Goldendale, WA for which brother-in-law was kind enough to join us. Tim thought I was off to Book Club for the evening; unbeknownst to him, it had been cancelled, which provided the perfect excuse to take the car (it was pouring rain) and head for the airport to retrieve John. I was quite pleased that Tim was thoroughly, completely, and happily surprised when I arrived home from "Book Club" somewhat early, and explained that there was nothing great being discussed, so I brought home something far more interesting - enter Big Bro.
On Saturday, which was warm, sunny and gorgeous, we piled in the car and headed east up the Columbia Gorge for the two hour drive. Maryhill is a relatively new winery - within the past dozen years - VERY isolated, as is most everything that far east, but hosts a fabulous view of the surrounding cliffs and river. Also, happily, has some wicked good wines! We had a lovely tour, followed by a HUGE tasting - probably more than we could effectively judge. Then we bought a picnic lunch and a bottle of one of the ones we all liked, and sat outside listening to live jazz. A most civilized way to spend a Saturday!
John's visit was just the tonic needed to dispel the feelings that plagued hubby - sixty already? Was this all there was? Shouldn't I have accomplished more by now? Really, a happy marriage, two pretty awesome kids, great friends, a nice home and a decent job are not too shabby ways to describe a life of quality. And in his heart of hearts, he knows that, but the arrival of the number itself kind of threw him for a loop. It's what comes as the result of a strong work/family ethic combined with the lack of desire to make a million bucks - sometimes one precludes the other.
Now, the month is ending on a very different note: I'm playing Florence Nightingale as Tim recovers from some - ahem - "guy surgery", which is all I'll say about that, except to acknowledge that I HATE being on this end of the equation - Tim has always been the one taking care of me. And while I am not a particular fan of surgery or illness, I would much rather be the one in pain - at least I KNOW with certainty the degree of discomfort. When I'm on the nurse end of things, I can't be sure if he's downplaying his pain to make me feel better (as I often did when the shoe was on the other foot). I don't like - at ALL - seeing him that vulnerable. That he reached this age without having ANY kind of anesthesia (even novocaine!), much less any surgery, is testament to his incredible state of good health. But it also meant that we had no idea how his body would react to anesthesia, and knowing how badly I react to it, I was terrified on his behalf. But I had to put on my brave, optimistic, smiley face for his benefit, even when he almost passed out the first evening we were home. Recovery has required my assistance with some of the basic skills: showering, eating, dressing, etc., and I had a horrible sense of foreboding....will it someday be like this permanently instead of temporarily? To his credit, Tim was a lovely patient - calm, good-humored, appreciative. But he has always been MY protector, not the other way around, and it's very unsettling. And it means we're not 19 anymore. Which I knew intellectually, but generally refused to face with my heart.
Tomorrow he returns to the doctor for his followup appointment, removal of drains, and clearance to return to work, which is planned for Tuesday. Maybe then life will return to whatever normal is; all the milestones of the year will be finished, and we'll slide into the holidays. I can't add any more grey hair than I've already got, but I think there just may be an additional scar on my heart.....
Stay tuned.....
