If for some reason you have stumbled upon this blog and you don't know me...or my Facebook...because, let's be real here, our Facebook is its own person. Complete with made up happiness and "lookey-lookey's!" Well, hi, I'm Meg and I am using this pedestal to proclaim myself to be a surgery warrior. I'm not going to lie...I am envisioning myself looking something like this:
Although I am more than aware I would actually end up looking like this:
Anyway, back to the point. To say I have had a lot of surgeries would be like saying my toddler likes peanut M&M's. Um, the kid LOVES peanut M&M's. So much so that if we even slightly move our jaws up & down, our chewing motives are severely questioned. For hours. He will not forget that we were chewing something random (and probably chocolatey) in front of him. For. Hours. He likes peanut M&M's A LOT. Apparently, the universe likes the idea of me undergoing surgery as much as my toddler likes peanut M&M's, which makes me want to face slap whoever is responsible for said universe. Did I just hypothetically slap God? I'm not sure. But at this point in life I have to assume the man has a sense of humor and can take me giving him one humanly slap for all of the surgeries and complications I have been through in my short 29 years on earth.
I'm not sure if I'm thankful for all of that, but I am thankful for those who have stayed with me through it all. Even if you were with me through some of it and not all of it, I am thankful for you. My body and I are still trying to live amongst each other as a cohesive unit, really...if you've seen Stefenie Meyer's The Host then you realize the internal struggle I am talking about here. Yes, I am convinced there is an alien inside of me and my body is resisting it. That's the only answer I have as to why, at 29, I have had 6 knee surgeries, a shoulder surgery, 2 c-sections, an appendectomy, and gallbladder removal. And if that wasn't enough, I was super lucky because I won the c-section lottery and wound up with not one but 2 blood clots in my lungs. Hi. I'm obviously and alien cat.
The end.
No, this story can't end here. As epic as ^^ that was, I have a lot to be thankful for. For those who visited me; drove miles and miles to see me, to help with the kids and keep Dan sane, for those who made us laugh when all we could think about was death, for those who cooked for us when I didn't even have energy to hold my 7 pound baby, for those who brought gifts, and made our story into awareness with The Police Wife Life, for the generous donations of formula and clothing we received when going to the store posed a life threatening chance of getting pneumonia, for those who held me and just let me cry, for those who called and just let me cry, and for this amazing teacher who just can't stop teaching me things in life...thank you for your thoughtful poem. I am thankful.
"For Meg"
By: H. Ray
We treat lost moments
As if they were really ours:
Treasured things we fumbled
Into gutters as we crossed busy streets.
Coins dropped from pockets
Disappearing into a cosmic sofa
On which we wallow,
Bereft at the losing
But
Lost moments aren't real...
How can you lose a thing you can't hold?
Only the moments you live are true.
And you will know their worth
While you are in them -
Because they are yours.
To laugh about,
Cry over,
Share with the ones who shared them,
Burnishing them
Through the years
Into memories.
Thank you. Thank you all.
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