I do feel a bit kicked around by my recent surgery, and if I stand and stare at the mirror, I would have to notice the wrinkles and greying hair.

I feel much wiser than I was twenty years ago, much more patient, kind, appreciative, accepting, and willing to be accepted for the imperfect person that I am.

So…..I guess it might have taken me that long to get that way……

I spent my day reading birthday wishes in cards and emails, and receiving birthday wishes by phone

Eating the birthday cookies my dad brought down to me yesterday.

Enjoying the company of my husband

And Rebecca’s dog, Ellie

Unwrapping a big bear hug from Morgan

Watching the squirrels and birds in the backyard

And having pizza, wings, and good conversation with George and Rebecca for birthday dinner.

I never left home, as that seemed like it would be too much for me, but everything about this day made it special.

I am four days post-surgery, tired, sore, and just generally wiped-out.

I am thankful for all the activity that has gone on around me since my return home to keep the house running smooth, to see to my needs, to make my world comfortable and manageable.

George and Rebecca have been with me every step of the way. I am thankful that George was with me seconds after I hit the bathroom floor. I am thankful that Rebecca packed up her car and drove up from North Carolina as soon as she heard of my mishap. I am thankful that Garrett drove down from Buffalo Friday night to be by my bedside when they moved me down to the second floor, when I needed his sense of humor, then filled the house with good food since he knew that I wouldn’t be shopping. I am thankful that Morgan is a phone call away, has the most reassuring voice, and leaves me with the sense that all will be okay.

The dishes here are washed, the clothes are clean, the floors are swept, the pets are cared for, the house is in good order, my needs are met, I need only ask. I could list a thousand little things that have been done for me that have meant so much. I love my family. Life is good.

Fortunately, my doctor had requested lab work from me a week before surgery, so I called in, and said that she could check with the ER and see if the lab work done there would suffice. It didn’t take long before I got the call back, that she had read my lab results and was concerned with my overnight misadventure and elevated white count. Neither of us knew where that was coming from. She mentioned my appendix might be worth checking out. She was going to check into the operating room schedule and see if she could get me in earlier.

Thursday around noon, they were wheeling me to pre-op. I went in around one, and remember seeing the clock in the recovery room at 2:50. Dr. K came by at some point and mentioned an infection, and said it was good we hadn’t waited another week. Later I understood more fully that my fallopian tubes had become infected, and the infection had started to spread. I dozed off and on till they found me a room, in Pediatrics! It was after 6 p.m. before I had a bed, and George and Rebecca could be with me. It was actually quite a pleasant place, with a comfortable bed, and a view of the hills out the window right in front of me. There were two empty cribs in the room, and I took two photos with George’s cell phone, because I knew I would think back that I had been hallucinating. The nurses were the best, as pediatric nurses usually are. They saw me through a roller coaster of blood pressure readings and IV drips to push both fluids and antibiotics into my system. My blood pressure dropped incredibly low at one point, causing a stir, and a call to Dr. K, and talk of a possible transfusion. Fortunately, that didn’t become necessary, and my pressures came up to where they should be.

A bed became available on the regular unit Friday evening, so I said goodbye to the wonderful people who cared for me in pediatrics, and headed down to the second floor. It wasn’t the same after that. 2nd floor was noisy, I had a view of the sink and the bathroom, and I was just one of the crowd. I asked for help getting out of bed each time, because that fall to the floor was still fresh in my mind, but by the time the night shift came on, I was on my own. Hysterectomy patients are routinely discharged within 23 hours, so they were fitting me in to that mindset.

Saturday morning Dr. K was in, and gave me the okay to go home. I was very anxious to have the IV tubing and the leg compressors unhooked, to have uninterrupted sleep and a real meal. Surprisingly, pain was rarely an issue after the surgery. That had been well-managed, and I only asked twice for anything not already provided.

So this weekend, I am home, I am laying low, I am being cared for, and it wasn’t what I planned. Garrett and Rebecca bought the groceries so that we have wonderful foods in the house. Everyone, but me, is cooking and cleaning and keeping up with the household responsibilities.

It’s a beautiful summer day, and we will eat our dinner on the deck, I will watch the birds, catch up with the blogs, do some reading, put my feet up, and relax. I hurt just a little bit, but it’s almost time for those pain meds. It’s so good to be home.

I never knew Grandma to have a home. She lived out of the trunk of her car, a very independent woman. By the time I came around, she was making a living as a live-in companion to the elderly, and I would stay with her sometimes in the family’s home. Between jobs, she would stay with a member of her own family, always pulling from the back of her car, anything she needed to get by. She came bearing bags of groceries, knitted slippers, new “leggins” to keep us warm, and children’s workbooks. She taught me every game of solitaire that she knew, and had me help her with the Daily Jumble in the paper. Cultivation of the mind, staying warm, and staying fed, were very important to her.

I remember riding in the back of her car to Naples and back, sitting up on a little red stool, so I could look out the windows. There were no seat belts or warnings back then. We would do a word search on the way, finding something out the window to go with every letter of the alphabet. To this day, I think of one house in Geneva as the Knob house. I used its doorknob to come up with the letter K, and she praised me heartily for that. Every summer, she would take a car load of grandchildren on vacation with her. I was one of the youngest, so when my turn came, it was just me and my cousin, Scott, and off we went to the Thousand Islands. She was proud to show us off, but we had to mind our manners, and speak up when spoken to.

My mother died when I was eight, and Grandma came to stay with us for a time. She had just put my sister, Kathy, and me to bed, when she was back at our bedside, telling us to get up, and come see a new television program. This was so unusual, to be invited back out to the livingroom after bedtime. The show was The Flintstones, and it tickled her, and she wanted to share it with us. Around that time, too, we stayed with her at our cousin’s cottage on Canandaigua Lake, and I remember her calling us all from our beds, to come out to the beach and watch a satellite pass over. She seemed to want us to know and experience as much as we could.

When I was in high school, I caught the Greyhound bus to Rochester over winter break, to stay with her at a home in the city. She was taking care of an elderly woman, so it was a quiet time, but comforting, to be snowed in at a cozy house, with Grandma, a deck of cards, and quiet conversation. I remember how beautiful the city streets looked from our second story bay window, and that evening we sat together and watched Ben-Hur as the snow fell.

After I was married, Grandma would send care packages now and then. She sent me recipes, odds and ends of kitchen utensils, a new iron. I think an idea would hit her, and it would go in a box, and sent on its way. I enjoyed writing letters to her, and she would always write me back. A favorite time, was meeting her in Naples in the fall, and having chicken dinner at Bob and Ruth’s in the park. After we ate, she would take us around town, to visit with her homebound friends.

It was hard to watch Grandma lose her independence in her later years. She had fallen on the job, broken a hip, and never really bounced back. After she entered the nursing home, she was found to have cancer, and it eventually took her life just a few weeks before her 94th birthday.

Grandma Cherrie had such an impact on my life. She seemed fearless to me, and showed true grit and perserverance in her life. I have missed her all these nineteen years that she has been gone,  but she left a wonderful collection of memories that will never leave me.

George, Rebecca, and Grandma Cherrie during a visit to Naples, 1978

We saw mockingbirds at every turn.

There were berries by the path, and I spotted the bushes out of the corner of my eye. I used to pick baskets full of these when we stayed at the cottage in the summer. I had to restrain myself to only pick a handful last night.

We heard a rustling in the bushes, and this little chipmunk was scurrying up to get a mouthful of his own berries. He perched there at eye level, watching us, as we watched him.

We kept seeing this bird, or maybe he had brothers. It took many photos and angles before we dared to guess that it might be a juvenile male rose-breasted grosbeak.

The sky was ever changeable during our three hour stay, and it became cool as the sun went down.    We again made a commitment to, sometime, make it all the way down the side trail into Big Flats. There is always just too much to see.

Thunderstorms seem to be moving in tonight, again, but the days were beautiful and relaxing.

The birds seem to know that change is in the air, as the visitors to my feeders, themselves, are changing. Blue jays are suddenly back, after months away. A couple of cedar waxwings landed in the willows yesterday, and they are rare in my yard, for sure. Most surprisingly, a hairy woodpecker made an appearance, not only this morning, but again late afternoon, at the suet feeder. I have had downies continually, since I have fed the birds, but this is the first hairy that I have ever noticed. She made herself known, by picking a fight with a blue jay, while I was watching out the window at breakfast this morning.

George has given the deck another protective coating. The awning has been down, and up, and back down again, as we anticipated a thunderstorm. The days have been warm, the nights, cool. Some days the sky has the look of autumn, and then there is that distinctive little chill in the air.

The grackles and the redwing blackbirds are fewer in the yard. The squirrels are back, and a yellow warbler stopped by.

The radio and newspaper suggest winter preparations to offset the cost of heating our homes, and the school calendar has arrived in the mail.

All signs point to summer winding down. I don’t like to think about it.

There were gulls, and shorebirds in the water near the entrance. Ahead of us at the side of the road, George pointed out a great-blue heron. We inched closer, trying to get a good photo, before the vehicle following us drove on around, and scared it off.

It was a good day for herons. We saw several, and they always pose if we give them space.

There were red-winged blackbirds, an Eastern kingbird, a couple of northern flickers, swallows, and ducks along the way. If we had more time, I’m sure we would have spotted more birds.

As we left the main drive and continued back towards the highway, we saw an osprey at the North Spring Pool. There were actually three that we could spot, one at the top of a dead tree, one in the nest, and one preening itself on a log.

I wish I had taken more pictures, but there is always the choice between observing and photographing, and I hate to miss out while I fumble with my camera.