Between the day I found out I’d be having this surgery and the couple of days before I actually had it, I turned down a seemingly never-ending barrage of offers to help from people who really do love me and who really would be happy to drop everything and lend me a little assistance while I am unexpectedly down and out. Geez. Why are people so nice?
I don’t know why it is so friggin’ hard for me to ask for help or to accept it when it’s openly offered. I dig in and help others out all the time. I give so much (something I am not comfortable writing, but which matters as I think about this). I share so much of my time and things and even money. I am there for others as much as I possibly can be. But the moment the tables are turned and this helper needs the help? I’d rather eat a live octopus with broken chopsticks while flushing ten dollar bills down a toilet with my free hand.
Weird analogy, I know. Deal with it. I am very much off in la-la land with whatever this NORCO drug is. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, squirming octopi and flushing money down the toilet…
Two days before my surgery I realized just how bad my problem of not wanting help really was. I had turned down offer after offer to come be with me, come stay with me, come do anything for me, and was just planning on hiring an Uber driver to take me to the hospital and another Uber driver to take me home.
The plan was to never have another human being (who I knew) involved with any of it at all. To never let another human being (who I knew) see that I was struggling. To never have another human being (who I knew) be there again in my life until I was whole and physically awesome once more. You know… something a scene something like this from beginning to end:
Just me and professional medical staff, car drivers I didn’t know, and anything else I find that I need along the way to be ordered and overnighted from Amazon. It would work. Why not?
What’s funny is that I had a good excuse of why every single person was too busy or would be too put out to actually come help me. My older sister Tomi Ann repeatedly asked to have me stay with her or to come help me, and she meant it so sincerely, but I turned her down every time because she has three kids to take care of, and her business she runs, and who am I (and my butt) to assk for help? (See what I did there?)
I turned down friends who so selflessly offered to bring me food, and keep me company. I turned down offers from family members, and even from some of you who live near me. I turned it all down and always had a good reason why it was much better for you not to help me in the long-run.
But there I was, looking at my Uber app, making a plan for the day I would have a fairly invasive surgery on my butt, knowing based on what the surgeon told me that I’d probably be in a world of hurt for a while afterward, and I realized… I have a problem.
So, I did what should just be normal, right? And I asked my mom if she’d come be this 35 year old’s mama for the day. Typing the text was harder than jumping off of “King of Swingers” at Tough Mudder. Of course, I ended with a very serious plea that if it was any inconvenience of all, I’d be completely okay. Of course she jumped on the chance, which just made me more uncomfortable because… Like I said, I have a problem. Hahaha…