This summer I ate a lot of pie. . . and ice cream, and cake, and cookies, and candy. When Labor Day hit, I knew I needed a sugar intervention, so I went cold-turkey on sweets and forced my family to deal with my grumpy mood swings. I have been faithful to my new routine and have not had a speck of sugar in eleven days.
This morning, I got up early to take my husband to the hospital for scheduled shoulder surgery. I have a history of being a very poor nurse. If I had the choice between being a nurse and an indentured servant, I would have to go with indentured servitude. I simply cannot stomach the sights, sounds, and smells of a hospital. I would rather clean floors with a tooth-brush.
When my oldest daughter had oral surgery years ago to remove some teeth and make room for braces, I was instructed to replace the bloody gauze with fresh cotton. I tried to complete this task, but had to stop, run to the bathroom, and vomit.
When one of my dogs had foot surgery in 2004, my mother had to drive over an hour to our house in order to change the dressing on my dogs wound, because every time I tried, I got sweaty and dizzy.
Today, at the hospital, while the nurse took out my husband’s IV and instructed me on his medications, I began to feel nauseous. This sensation increased and was coupled with a light-headed, sweaty feeling. The room began to swirl around me; I couldn’t look at my husband in his little hospital nighty and big black arm sling without feeling intensely ill.
The bad news is, I fainted. The good news is my husband’s surgery was a success, and after I cleared my head, the nurse MADE me eat the sweetest, most delicious graham crackers I have ever had!