Wednesday, January 12, 2011

21 Days of Compliments - Day 4

        Does not strangling your husband when he is laid up with a back injury constitute compassion? Please tell me it does!!!!

        As everyone who follows my blog knows, I lost my dear companion, Sentry, on December 23, 2010. My husband, being the dear man he is, buried her in the back yard next to her predecessor, Jake. While accomplishing this good deed, he hurt his back and spent the better part of three weeks being waited on hand and foot – by me - hence, the compassionate part.
        I am an organizer. I organize other people on their tasks – get water, heat the rice bag, get the cold pack (you get the picture.) Compassionate people tend to be in the nursing profession (the one who is getting the water, heating the rice bag, getting the cold pack.)
        By admission, I am not a very patient person; heck, I’m not even a semi-patient person. I do not nurse very well but I think I did an excellent job considering I had my normally quiet, peaceful existence interrupted by 24 hours a day of what seemed like a 1980s t.v. flashback! I’m talkin’ Mr. T, The Rockford Files, Magnum P.I., Matlock, that guy that flies the huge helicopter, (I see you beginning to understand), and who needs surround sound when the television is blaring so loud that it’s re-bounding off the walls! I haven’t gotten to the compassionate part yet; that was all about the patience part. That was just showing the tolerance for the injured party because of the good deed he was doing when he hurt his back.
        I fixed the thermostat to the correct temperature. I fetched blanket after blanket, glass of water after glass of water. I served meals on a tray and picked up empty dishes. What is it about convalescents that make them eat so much? I pulled the shades down for naps, raised them after naps. I fetched slippers constantly left in my path and therefore kicked under the sofa. I adjusted pillows.
        Compassionate came into play the day my husband was sitting at the island and told me he needed a towel with ice because he wasn’t feeling very well. I was applying the ice to his neck when all of a sudden dead weight fell against me. What a quandary! What do you when someone passes out? Uh! I dunno! Do they come to on their own? Uh - I dunno! Do you need to use smelling salts (none in the house even if I could have gotten to them?) Again, uh - I dunno! What do you do?
        Well, what you DO NOT do is let them fall off the stool and further injure themselves. What you don’t do is call for help (the phone was six feet away and my cell phone was further.) What you do (or at least what I did) is kind of keep asking, “Are you there?” If this doesn't qualify as a Lucy moment, I don’t know what would! Finally, this faint voice said, “I’m okay.” About five minutes after I told him he passed out, my husband made the comment that he thought he passed out. I’m thinking, “Ya think?”
        It will be a while before that phrase leaves my mind. I dearly love my husband, but I am glad he’s better now. Life is back to being pleasantly quiet again. So, for Day 4, I am complimenting myself on being compassionate. Three weeks constitutes compassion doesn’t it?
        How are you doing with your compliments. I find that it is definitely harder than I thought.

   My list:
        1. I am a talented organizer.
        2. I am a good baker.
        3. I am good at commitment.
        4. I am a compassionate person.

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