It takes a village to raise a child

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Evan and Cole, the B-day Boy!
My mom says we are saving this pic till he turns 18 and
sticking it in the high school yearbook senior year!
Too cute!
"It takes a village to raise a child"

I remember my parents sharing that line with me after a wedding they attended. My immediate thought was of an African Village, part Lion King part Jungle Book. Not sure why, but that was the image that came to mind. A little baby, wrapped in leaves, with all these people lifting him up in a circle. Is that what they meant? No.

What that meant, at this wedding, was that our community of Litchfield Park, where I have lived since I was an infant, is something very special. It is a community that has a small town vibe and all of the neighbors know each other. The community is comprised of many who grew up here themselves and then moved away to be young and free. Once that wore off they moved back to marry and raise a family, because they realized how unique a place like this town has become in our country. The parents of the bride said that "It takes a village to raise a child" and that Litchfield Park is that village where we all pitch in to help each other.

During this time in my life Litchfield Park made a "Fan Club" for me. It was called Healing Hands- The Whitney Yates fan club, Litchfield division. Cool huh? So all of my neighbors on my street decorated an outline of their hands, writing encouraging words for me, and then the hands were strung together to make a "room decoration" for my hospital room so that I would be with Litchfield Park every step of the way. It was something I will never forget and it brought so much joy to my mom, dad and brother as well. My personal favorite was a hand that was placed showing the "middle" finger to the pancreas, very original, my LP family:-)

One day I brought home a bagel, about a week out of the hospital, and I noticed it had sprouts smeared all over it. Instead of acting like a normal, mature 26 year old woman, I acted more like a bratty 5 year old child. I looked at it and burst into tears throwing around a few horrible cuss words. It had nothing to do with my distaste of sprouts and everything to do with my frustration of feeling hunger and losing massive amounts of weight while becoming severely ill after eating. Who wants to eat when it lands you in bed throwing up in a bucket with a heating pack on your belly for a few hours? UGH not me, but that is just what I kept doing. And doing. And doing. Until, finally at 5 weeks tomorrow I am doing it! I am eating without horrific pain and throwing up. In fact it was been 6 days since I last threw up. Almost a week. Yes, progress! It still causes some cramps, and a few uncomfortable moments, but nothing like it was.

My point was, yes back to my point, the day of the "sprout bagel" my mom asked me what I was looking forward to once I was better. She expected me to say "Going to Paris" or "Kicking butt at work and making lots of money" but instead I said "Going to Old Pueblo with my girlfriends to sitting on the patio eating Mexican food and listening to music with a beer." I can tell you the beer hasn't happened yet, and no live music on Wednesday nights, but the rest happened tonight. I forgot to get a picture of it, but I went with 2 girlfriends to do just that. And as if that wasn't good enough, my best friend Katie so happened to be there with her 2 boys and husband so they joined us too. It was her baby, Cole's, first birthday and it could not have been a better night orchestrated by the Man Upstairs. I enjoyed the chips and salsa and was even able to eat a little bit of beans and rice. I ran into EVERYONE at Old Pueblo. I felt special, funny how something so small can make you feel like a million bucks. Everyone was there, family friends and neighbors, and it was so good to see them all. I felt like I was finally back, finally home to finish out my healing and journey with pancreatitis.

Tonight I feel good, minus a stomach ache and soreness around and inside my incision. I am not a "waiter" and I get mixed up when I have to go slow, as I am always running around with a million things on my to do list. This take it easy stuff is hard, but I know that I need about 2 more months of recovering as a full time job before I start doing too much. I took it upon myself to wean down on my medicines without the help of my doctor. Whoops. So night I got shaky and felt really sick. Needless to say I got back on the meds (except for 1, which I think I am doing well without). I was trying to get off pain meds and am going to wait until my pain specialist sees me next week. No more Dr. Yates, I learned my lesson.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Powered by Blogger.
Theme Designed By Hello Manhattan

Your copyright

Whitney Woods 2018