Chicken Soup for the injured

Deb, a 50-something friend of mine, fell from a ladder while working on a home-improvement project last month. She needed emergency surgery to repair her shattered knee, and is now recovering at home with a battery of medical equipment.

Deb has a family to care for. She also has a full-time job, which had to be put on hold while her injury heals. Meanwhile, she’s practicing her physical therapy, learning how to use crutches, and trying not to collide with the furniture.

But her biggest challenge has been learning to give up control while she rests on the couch with her leg propped up. It feels strange relying on a cell phone -- “remote control parenting,” she calls it -- to arrange transportation for her teenager with special needs.   

Nobody likes being injured or ill, but I’m convinced it’s twice as hard for mothers who suddenly find themselves incapacitated for weeks at a time. It doesn’t matter if we’ve been hit by a bus or a flu bug. Moms are programmed to be nurturers and fixers. We roll up our sleeves and pitch in when someone needs to be fed, bandaged, or chauffeured to softball practice. We’re more comfortable offering help than asking for it. Sitting still goes against our maternal grain. 

While the moral of this story could be: “Girlfriends, never do home repairs that require a ladder,” I promise it is not.

Watching my friend move gingerly on her walker, I was reminded of the time I found myself in the same position six years ago. A nasty case of osteoarthritis had progressed to the point where I couldn’t function around the house without assistive devices from the medical supply store. Since I couldn’t imagine spending my future in a wheelchair, my only recourse was total hip-replacement surgery.

A serious health crisis can be an excellent teacher -- albeit a tough one.  And this much I know for sure: I never would have grasped the full meaning of the word “generosity” had I not limped my way through several months of surgical rehab.  During that time, a number of incredibly nice people conspired to make my life easier. Neighbors drove my son back and forth to school.  Friends baked casseroles and delivered them to my family while I recovered in bed.  In particular, I remember the savory chicken noodle soup a friend dropped off at exactly the moment I craved the taste of comfort. 

I often wondered what I could ever do to return so much kindness. 

The answer came from one of the terrific nurses who helped care for me after my second surgery.  “Watch for opportunities to help someone else,” the nurse told me. “Be there when the time is right.”  Even the smallest acts of kindness, after all, are links in the great chain of generosity.

Last month, as soon as I got the call about Deb's accident, I headed straight for the kitchen and did what I’ve learned to do best in this type of emergency: I made enough minestrone to feed a family, then delivered it in Tupperware containers to her house. The following week, I made chicken soup and a batch of stew, alternating with other friends who had offered “meals on wheels.”

Let me stress that I don’t deserve special recognition for doing this. Cooking for my friend was a selfish act. It made me feel better (or at least not so useless) in the face of her misery.

Deb told me recently that she couldn’t imagine how she’d ever “repay” all the generous people who’ve been so helpful during her recovery. I told her that she doesn’t owe any of us anything in return, and I meant it.

“Next time someone else falls from a ladder,” I added, half seriously, “it will be your turn to bring the soup.”

An original 50-Something Moms Blog post.

CIndy La Ferle also blogs at Cindy's Home Home Office

Comments

[Gunfighter]

Bless you for being there for a freind.

When I had my knee surgery last year, I had to sleep in the living room for a while because I couldn't negotiate the stairs... and I had to cook while on crutches, which was no fun, believe me.

Hats off to those who come to the aid of people in need.