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September Surrender: Day 26

What I’m Letting Go: Matter of Certainty

I wonder if you can tell what order I wrote all this in today. Believe me, I never do this. I always write things from top to bottom. But I had a lot of trouble with this one today. I can’t decide if I trust too little or trust too much. I feel like I believe anything I read online sometimes, no matter how outlandish it may seem. Then other times, I cloister myself in, not allowing any outside influence, keeping my thoughts and feelings as close to the vest as possible. It all makes no sense and too much sense. It’s just me.

I don’t think there’s ever been a time someone has betrayed my trust. I never feel like I establish it at the onset, and perhaps no one does. I was told by someone once that they trust me, and I felt it was more important than it actually turned out to be, I guess. Still, I always wonder what it looks like when you implicitly know someone will be there for you without questions. It’s like a parent-child relationship, but how do you form that with an ‘outsider?’

I suppose it’s in my best interest to let go of holding my trust so tightly clenched, lest I come off sounding like a callous jackass. I told my aunt I didn’t trust the organization my other aunt set up for me to call when we were looking for nursing homes for Mom, simply based on a feeling. And as it turns out, they found us a perfect agency for homecare workers that operates right in my hometown. The nurse even sent her kids to the same grade school I did. So yes, I can have feelings that I’m open, but just because my gut tells me one thing doesn’t mean I can’t let a pitch come my way. Seeing is believing after all.

What I’ve Discovered: Medical Marvels

The last three years really solidified to me how little trust I have in once-trusted institutions. The feeling I had during the 2017-2019 era of the country finally becoming a good place in my lifetime was eroded the moment that bioweapon was unleashed upon the world. Who exactly pressed the button remains to be seen, but I think I have a good idea as to who did it. But let’s not get caught up in the tinfoil hattery.

Yesterday my father and I spent seven hours by my mom’s side as we waited in the nearby hospital’s emergency wing. There was no open room, so we had to wait in the hall. Staff kept telling us how Mondays are always busy, so we were just patient. In that time, the nurse came around to give her an IV and an antibiotic drip. We spoke to three separate doctors who came by to check on her, the insurance woman, and the pharmacist. It was a busy moment in time, and people just kept coming in and going out. And all the while, the machine ran like clockwork around us.

My dad stayed until visiting hours were over, and I called the hospital before I left for work. Turns out Mom is responding well to the antibiotics and can go home after a few days. My dad said the infection looked a million times better when he visited today, so the staff there really did a bang-up job on her. Even my dad, who adamantly will not see a doctor for himself, said the physician caring for her was phenomenal and “just lovely.” It was nice to here. It was nice to experience it for myself, as going to the hospital isn’t exactly a joyous occasion.

Even though the only doctor I have now is my gynecologist, I’m happy to have gotten back some of what was lost over the last three years. I saw people who truly wanted to help their fellow man, almost getting their energy from providing care. It’s like I discovered a whole new level of health care, and I applaud those who dedicate their lives in the service of others. Though not literally applaud. We already did that and I’m fine leaving pandemic-era weirdness in the past.

What I Hope to Find: Teeny Tiny Trustfulness

I got to hold a baby the other day. My friend’s son just turned one. I was invited to his birthday party. I held my hands out as he was looking at me and asked, “may I?” He didn’t quite leap into my arms but he let me hold him no problem. I got the sense he wasn’t going to grab onto me, so I sort of flipped him around to sit in the crook of my arm while I secured my forearm around him. The photographer snapped a few pictures as I beamed. No idea if he was smiling too, but I know he wasn’t trying to wriggle away. My friend was feeding him some Cheerios, and every time he ate one, I’d say, “delicious!” He then reached out for mom and away he went.

I don’t get to hold babies very often. I told my friend to watch out or I’m gonna abscond with her son. It’s the same joke my family made about my mother growing up, since she absolutely adored being around babies. I just don’t have too many chances to do so. And it used to scare me. They’re so tiny and fragile and I was always afraid I was doing it wrong. But when they’re handed to me or they reach out to me, there’s just an instant level of trust that sets in. I feel like I instinctually know how to handle the child, because we as adults have to provide the greatest level of care that we can.

I’d love to keep chasing this feeling of wanting to care for the tiniest among us. I know I’ve harped on having babies a lot in these entries, but it’s something that’s been on my mind for a very long time now. I still have no idea how it’s going to happen, only that it’s something I actually want to do. There’s plenty of women out there who don’t want to be mothers. I’m not one of them. I can have faith in the process that will give me the opportunity. Until then, I can just babysit for now. Besides, if I do try and take off, my friend did say, “I know where you live.” She’d kill me. Trust.

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