Friday, July 2
Beam Me Up Scotty
Sometimes, stress is bad. It turns your hair gray, gives you wrinkles and causes uncontrollable tics and mutterings of swear words.
This past two weeks has been the latter kind of stress, overlaid with a generous helping of the first type.
How has this affected me mentally and physically? I *curse* am so tired I worry about falling asleep on the 20 min drive home. I *twitch* need my hair colored less than six weeks after the last coloring. I"ve *mutter* upgraded to the next Age Defense Miracle Wrinkle Remover. I've *blaspheme* started wearing a combover to cover my bald spot. I've *tic* used the small tremor in my hands to pet the cats. They enjoy it. I've *drool* paid hundreds to my chiropractor to straighten the kinks out of my neck. I've *blather* informed my wait staff that my indecipherable food orders are a new foreign language I'm working on. For a book.
I think they bought it.
What has caused these huge amounts of stress?
The above picture is of my new grandson, born June 21. Ty Michael 7lbs. 2oz. This picture was taken 10 days later on his first day home, after his release from NICU. While I love the nurses in NICU and the doctors are stupendous, having a child or grandchild there is not a run-of-the-mill experience, nor for the faint of heart. It makes me cry seeing the other poor tykes in there, even knowing they're getting the best care available.
Did I notice the stupendously sexy doctor? Did I take romantic notes over the flirtation between one of the nurses and the anesthesiologist? Nope. They are all business, and all compassion in NICU, but by golly their main goal is the health and welfare of the child.
And for that, and for all they've done for all three of my grandchildren who have been in NICU, I salute the doctors and nurses who've made this grandmother feel her grandbabies are in capable and caring hands.
HIP HIP HOOORAY!!!
(who is a little less stressed now that the little man is home)