The Bulldozer of Life

I know you've heard the platitudes, we all have...
"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."
"If you are at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on."
"When the going get tough, the tough get going."
"Tough times never last. Tough people do."
"A problem is a chance for you to do your best."

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Pffffffftttt.

What about those times when you are pretty sure life is driving a bulldozer? You've made lemonade, added gin. Tied a knot, tied it again, tied it again, and realized you didn't earn the knot tying badge in scouts for a reason. Did your best at being tough and just got tired?

My last two weeks have been a bit like that. I've been on dozer duty, and not in the driver's seat. My handsome husband (HH) has been hospitalized. An overnight stay in the ICU, to step-down, to an isolation room, to home with IV therapy. He ran high fevers, and chilled, and wanted me with him. He simultaneously looked like an 80-year-old man and a 12 year-old boy. Gray and scared.

My Godmother died on the same day that HH was admitted to the hospital, with her funeral more than 750 miles from home. I listened as my sweet mother said "I've lost my friend" and I remembered my aunt's voice, laugh, and smile. The way she loved me - unequivocally and unconditionally. Her get up and go and can-do attitude. Her artistry in quilting. And I wanted to be there...and here...and there...and here...and on the moon. Anywhere but caught in this centerline of the road, unsure of what to do and where to go.

And then a visitor fell onto my daughter as she led a caving tour. Turning her lithe and muscular body into a tight knot of pain. And I watched her sit in the hard chair in her Dad's room, with kindness in her eyes and rigidity in her neck and back. I knew she tried to space out her muscle relaxers, although prescribed, because the medicine made her tired and she couldn't drive to spend time at the hospital.

Gosh darn it! Aren't bulldozers supposed to have those annoying OSHA beeper-noises so that a person can scramble out of the way??

As with most rough patches in life. Time goes on, and we are now looking at the tail lights of the dozer. And we have a bruise or two to show for the battle. But, the larger question is (and I know you've been asking "Mary, what is the point of this?") What did we learn from a close encounter with the Bulldozer of Life?

#1 - Get a flag man. You know, those orange vested folk with the "stop" sign on a stick that flips to say "Slow" when you are being diverted through the construction zone. They always have a great tan, have you noticed? That's because they are always out there in the sunshine. They aren't in the heart of the construction zone where the noise of the dozer makes it impossible to hear, and the dust being kicked up makes it near impossible to see. Nope.

The flag man has to be out a ways, where they can see the big picture. You need those folks. Susan is my flag man. Everyday she helped me see that traffic could be diverted and the day was always only 24-hours long. She reminded me to clock out. She even offered to travel from Texas to "cover my shift" if I needed her. She showed me "Stop" by being there, no further away than a text or call and "Slow" when I needed a reminder to just breathe or laugh. Perspective...that's what the flag man brings.

#2 - Lean on the rest of the road crew. I am convinced that those of us who live life in the "I can help" mindset have the hardest time accepting help. When a bulldozer is bearing down on you is not the time to be big and brave and stand alone. NO! Accept the hand that is trying to grab you and jerk you out of harms way! Duh.

Remember, this is a union job - that means you are NOT alone. My oldest son cleared his work schedule for a day and a half, left his sweet wife and beautiful daughter, to drive up and spend time with his Dad, mow our lawn, provide good company for his sister, and force make encourage his Mother to board that plane and go home to be with her parents and family for the funeral weekend.

My second son, drove up and braved isolation gear for an afternoon to join his sister in watching movies, listening to HH charm the nurses, and celebrate Father's Day in great style. Who picnics on BBQ ribs while wearing blue hazmat style gowns? My family, that's who.

My son's father-in-law arrived bright and early on Father's Day to visit HH in the hospital. He fooled the entire family with a wee bit of deceit to pull off his surprise.

And my team of co-workers generously provided top-notch medical care to HH, lightened my patient load whenever possible, and allowed me to leave HH and my usual workload in their hands as I headed to the funeral. All this in the midst of an upsurge in patient census that would have stretched our workdays even without my personal calamities.

And, my daughter listened when I told her it was OK to go home and rest on a heating pad. Her Dad was in good hands. The nurses loved him and spoiled him, and he worked hard to keep them charmed. That made it easier for her to say good-bye and take care of herself.

My friend Cathy texted support despite being on a two-week West Coast adventure with her husband and family, and buddy Mary T. offered advice, support, and lunch. Now that's a road crew.

#3 - Use your walkie-talkie. I'm not sure who invented text messaging, but I owe them a thank you note. I was able to stay in touch with home, HH, siblings, friends, and work at times when a phone call just wouldn't have been suitable. Like when I was trapped on the taxi-way in Minneapolis during a thunderstorm....Somehow texting "Egad! We're gonna be fighting over the last pretzel!" was so much more appropriate than saying it out loud.

Via text I could message HH in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep, without awakening him. My thoughts were there whenever he was next disturbed for an IV, or vital signs, medication... And my kids could send me their insights about how things were going without worrying about dropped calls, or calling at a bad time. I could give my full attention to the events happening with my parents and extended family, and then turn my full attention to my family at home. I didn't have the feeling that I was "juggling" my varied responsibilities - yet, I didn't feel out of the loop. And God Bless all those loved ones that kept the texts coming.

#4 - When all else fails - lie down. You just might be right where you need to be, between those two big rows of rotating steel tracks. Or, you might be able to duck out of the path for a bit. Big heavy dozers don't make sharp turns very well. Continuing to run in front of the dozer is useless. It's going to keep coming. The human being will always run out of energy before the dozer runs out of fuel. Pick a spot and lie down. Keep your head low, plug your ears, close your eyes, and get out of the way. Even better if this is the time you utilize the lemons and gin mentioned above.