©May 6, 2007
Carol Jane Remsburg
As the May Winds Howl
So like the gales that blow across the Irish moors in my imagination came today's winds. The temperatures plummeted from the warmth of the 70's for daytime highs down to the upper 50's, which felt more like the lower 40's. While the winds didn't have the frigid bite of winter, it indeed did have a cutting edge. With constant winds NE of 30 mph along with screaming gusts over 50 mph, I watched and waited for more limbs to crack, break, and come crashing down, none have so far. However, we have another 24 hours to face as the winds recede lessening little by little as the hours pass. The sustained winds alone will take their toll.
The windows that had been for the last week open and welcoming the fresh, balmy air indoors after a long winter were again tightly shut against the winds. The furnace powered back up and I was grateful for the warmth it brought.
Often it is windy, breezy Sundays that I enjoy to have the laundry flap and dry in the freshening. Today, however, there would not be enough pins or hands to fight that battle. I had to forego that simple pleasure and be grateful for the modern convenience of the dryer.
It's been very quiet here the last three days. Hubby, now in his 3rd week post-surgery, has had a setback of sorts. He became ill on Friday morning, this the fourth time this year, with no fever, but a headache, vomiting, and profuse sweating. He's required to take a myriad of medicines for his RA, pain medication for his pain both for RA and the major back surgery, as well as for (hopefully) temporary high blood pressure, and for bone density loss.
I called the home-health nurse who is to be called as he can't leave home, they were no help at all rather telling me to call his primary doctor for an appointment—where in that conversation did the woman, more than 200 miles away, not hear the words "he cannot ride in a vehicle" yet? I don't know, but I called his doc who set his appointment for the 9th which is the first day he can be able to be transported anywhere.
No food, no liquids, and certainly no medication happened over the first 24 hours. Shivering with chills while still sweating, hubby was miserable as the weather began to shift. Temps lowered and I couldn't keep him warm enough, even with the furnace on.
Saturday, he slept, sweated, and finally took a little ginger ale. We tiptoed around the house doing our best to be quiet. It was laundry day I was able to get all but the bed linens done. Then the weather warnings came. From what should have been a great weekend, sunny and warm, changed to sudden rainsqualls and a high wind advisory for Sunday through Monday.
This is the 3rd day and his misery is complete. His body has pretty much purged any medication that can help him. He's weak from lack of nourishment and I can't even get dry toast into him yet, even as I've nagged and nagged, but he's drinking more now.
The dinner he so looked forward to, I cannot, will not prepare but save to make for him another day. He loves homemade, deep-dish pizza with all the trimmings. The weather isn't suited for it either. From bed to chair and back again, he's resting once more. I checked his bandages for his incision; it hasn't wept at all in two days, likely because he doesn't have enough liquids in his body to do so.
Dry toast would help if I could get it into him. I just have to find something to appeal to him. Often, the scent of baking bread is an overpowering incentive. Wish I'd thought of that about this morning. I didn't until about an hour ago, . However, once it begins to bake, it might give his appetite a stir. That and soup, potato soup, rich in bacon, that incredible aroma. Filled with sweet, sautéed onions, tender potatoes and lots of cream, just might entice him to try a taste, if only a spoonful or two.
The last three days I've felt as if jailed, the prison doors clanging shut loudly. I'm stymied over what I can do and what I can't. I watch, I wait, I worry, and can't fix him as the sunlight dimmed and the clouds rolled in.
Sleep is light, just as with a newborn, ready to react at every sigh, shift, or groan to see to his needs. Often, there is little I can do to help. That's the most frustrating part about it all. I'm not being productive, either at work or at home. Everything else I might do here at home, will disturb his rest. And until I know he can eat, I can't leave him.
About the best I could do was go outside and batten down the hatches, stowing away the things that might blow away and maneuver vehicles away from where any heavy branches might come crashing down.
I escaped for a moment outside to feel the power of the wind I'd been hearing tearing about the house just to feel it. The pictures don't do justice to its anger, its venting, its frustration. To me it felt marvelous and powerful, lending itself to all I felt I cannot unleash.
And while the May winds howl about outside, they do good as well. The wind isn't just nature's way of pruning trees, but spreading seed and pollen while sweeping away the old and cluttered exposing fresh chances and new beginnings.
Once this wind passes through, I'm hoping all the pain and misery hubby is feeling goes with it. That once vented, he can again begin the steps to his recovery.
At least that's my prayer whispered on the winds.