A Bubble Off Plumb

The past two weeks or so have been more than a little crazy. My husband, commonly referred to in print as the Redheaded Stranger, had to have surgery. It wasn’t complicated, but the road to a diagnosis was long, steep, full of pitfalls and expensive. It seemed at times that new issues popped up overnight, designed to keep the doctors scratching their heads.

Finally, after a year of testing, searching, MRIs, CT scans, so many blood tests we thought he might run dry, the answer was found completely by accident. Trying to determine if a previous surgery had sprung loose, a mass was discovered. It was, and still is, believed to be benign, but let me tell you, when you hear the word ‘mass’ from a doctor in association with someone you love, your whole world flips upside down.

It is much more difficult than anyone outside that situation can imagine staying on an even keel instead of going bonkers. And despite best efforts, the ‘what ifs’ come to call in the middle of the night or behind the wheel driving to yet another doctor’s appointment.

As far as the Stranger is concerned, if he was ever deeply worried, he never let on. He is the old-fashioned man’s man, double tough and unbothered by any of these developments. He just kept on keeping on, never missed the opportunity to work and didn’t give in to the urge to feel sorry for himself, ever.

Now that the surgery is done and he is back home, he’s mad. Mad because after less than a week, he isn’t completely healed up and ready to run a marathon. Champing at the bit to get back to work, same as ever he was. You see, as a working cowboy, earning a living off the back of a horse in rough country, he got hurt a lot. Or maybe that’s just my perspective on it, the hurt a lot part. He always wanted to get right back to work. He once had a doctor tell him that in more than 30 years of practice, the Stranger was the only patient who got mad at him for NOT letting them go back to work. Every other time it was because he sent them back to the job.

The thing of it is, you never know. There are accidents and evil that could happen to anyone at any time or place. A trip to the store could turn deadly, or a doctor could say the word ‘mass.’ There is no respecter of persons in illness.

Take a little time for those you love. Do it today. When you head out the door and say ‘Love ya,’ mean it. Or better still, hold them close and say, ‘I love you.’ Mean it when you say it. Because you just never know.