Christmas 2019
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I’m writing to you today from warm and sunny Glendive. Mom had her hip repair surgery on Thursday,
the 26th. Merry
Christmas!
The post from her original hip replacement had slipped down into
the bone. The doctors knew this and knew
they could fix it.
After opening her up, while she was still awake (with a nerve
block), the doctors discovered the slippage was worse than they had
thought. The metal post was grinding and
eating away the inside of the bone.
Mom explained how the surgery felt to her. She reported the room was comfortable, music
in the background, and cheerful chatter.
There were never any moments of ominous silence and “whoops”, so she was
thankful for that.
Mom said it felt like
they were trying to pull her leg off.
She likened the experience to “being on the rack”. The good news is mom’s legs are both the same
length again! The bad news is the
bedridden part.
Mom has 2 weeks minimum bedridden. The doctor said it was possible
it could be 4. Then she gets to go
through the grueling task of physical therapy.
Mom is really super super excited about physical therapy after her
muscles atrophy in bed.
Mom came home to a house full of love from her neighbors. The neighborhood has divvied up her care and
meals while she recovers. Mom wasn’t
quite expecting it to be this long and difficult. And painful.
Mom has no clue how long it will be until she can sit up at her
computer and send these herself. In the
meantime, I will tag team write with her to keep her stories coming. Today it
will be poetry as she’s kind of not into writing. Mom may take a while to respond to anyone who
writes, but when she is able, she will respond.
Mom loves hearing from you all.
Mom wanted me to share a couple of my favorite poems.
Stories
I
grew up in isolated
North-eastern
Montana.
Everybody
knew your story.
I
sneaked out of CYC and drove
Dad’s
car, crammed with friends,
Up
and down Main Street.
Somebody
told my Dad,
Better
keep a tight rein
On
your filly there.
When
my baby died,
Women
from a hundred miles
Came
to me, held me,
Cried
with me, told me,
I
lost a baby too.
Paradoxically,
In
isolated communities.
There
is no privacy.
Today
I live in Mexico,
On the
edge of a rural village.
I
live by myself. In solitude
I
find strength and beauty.
Now
and then, I feel lonely.
Nobody
knows my stories
Alders Rained
Alders
rained leaves
From
the sky
Like
tears rolling
Down
my cheeks.
A
leaf caught
In
my eye, shattered
The
morning with gold.
I
love you,
I
said aloud.
And
the world
Bowed
at my feet.
Sondra Ashton
HDN: Looking out my back door
January 2, 2020
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