Soft Touches

If you can learn from hard knocks, you can also learn from soft touches. 

                                      ~ Carolyn Kenmore, Mannequin: My Life As a Model

Mass removal did not come easy for me. From start to finish, I was not a model patient, to say the least.  I felt more like a obstinate heifer cow being led to the slaughter ~ poked, pricked and prodded along the way.  I hate needles, especially when they are headed in my direction.  I don't like disrobing in front of total strangers, filling out medical history or drinking a gallon of nasty salt water before surgery (a requirement that has an exorcist-like effect on your intestinal tract). However, the most conflicting aspect of the entire process was the continual rise of my blood pressure. My blood pressure has always been perfect ~ absolutely textbook. And yet, every single time someone took my blood pressure, the rate was higher than the previous reading.

That's when I found out about white coat syndrome and cuff anxiety.  I read about this very real condition that affects millions of people.  I told my nurse daughter about my online research, and she threatened to take away my computer.  So, instead of prescribing a medication to lower my blood pressure, my nurse practitioner wrote me a prescription for Xanax to treat my anxiety and panic disorder.  I took one pill and slept away an entire Saturday...which really made me crazy!  I had only one alternative ~ to face the difficult days ahead and learn from my hard knocks. 

What I did not anticipate were soft touches...

One of the first soft touches I remember happened right before I went into surgery.  My daughter, Aimee, had accompanied me to the holding room and was sitting by my side.  I had forgotten to take off my wedding ring, which I had to remove before they wheeled me into the operating room.  I took off the ring and handed it to my daughter. She placed it in her pocket for safe-keeping, then she softly held my hand.  She sensed that removing my wedding ring had somehow discomforted me, and she said, "Everything is going to be fine."  I just remember looking at her and being completely calmed by the soft touch of her delicate hand.

I think she also felt the strong connection of those soft touches.  One week after I returned home, I received a package in the mail.

Even the mailer was so pretty and soft...how I love real mail, real packages and real books!  A real greeting card was tucked inside the book with a message that read:  I know at times like this taking one day at a time can be a pretty tall order...maybe it will help to know I am thinking of you. A soft touch from a loving child can make all the difference on a difficult day.

Then there were Sandy's soft touches...

I learned a valuable lesson about the importance of a compact mirror, a perfect shade of pink lipstick, firming face creme and a touch of mascara.  Who can go wrong with a combination of Lilly Pulitzer and Estee Lauder?

Despite all the pain I was experiencing after the surgery, I established a daily ritual. Every morning I combed my hair, brushed my teeth, opened my cute compact mirror and applied all my new products. I haven't fully comprehended the lesson of why this soft touch was so important to someone who could not even eat solid food, but I am sure it is both profound and simple.  Maybe when we are surrounded by the hard on every side, a soft touch is the tiny miracle we need.

Sandy, who is like a sister to me, presented me with another soft touch before I left the hospital...a small box with a notepad, a pair of earrings, and soft peppermint candy inside.

All my favorite things...blue hydrangeas, a U.S. mail box full of goodies, and town birds!  The most endearing feature on the box was the quote which read:  Go home to Thy friends and tell them how great things the Lord has done for thee.  Mark 5:19.  The box is sitting on my breakfast table where I can think about those words afresh every morning.

The next soft touch came from someone I have never even met.  My daughter purchased the April 2013 issue of the Oprah magazine, and she shared a special article with me.

The columnist Martha Beck writes the following:  And it is such an effective cure for so many ailments that I've come to believe it deserves its own acronym.  Personally, I like the term SALVE:  self-acceptance, love, value, esteem.  No matter what problem you're facing...a little SALVE never hurts, and it almost always helps.

Wow!  My daughter shared Ms. Beck's uplifting words with everyone who walked into the hospital room.  She finally ripped out the pages, so that visitors could read the article! I am so grateful for the SALVE that I received during my hospital stay...another soft touch from a total stranger and yet, a kindred spirit.

Finally, one abiding soft touch has watched over me for the past two weeks.  My other daughter, Katie, had to work during the process. Even so, she called me everyday before she went to work and came to see me every evening after work...usually bearing some kind of offering from a bouquet of daisies to a famous Brent's Drugs milk shake.  She also brought me a very special helium balloon.

The fresh daisies have wilted and the milk shake has been consumed, but that little helium balloon has stood the course of time! I took a picture of it this morning...still floating after sixteen days! Every morning when I walk to the breakfast table, the message remains!

My daughter still calls me morning, noon and night, but I feel a soft touch from the helium balloon that sits with me for breakfast, lunch and supper.  The balloon says to me each day, "I am doing my best to keep your spirits up.  I'm hanging in there. I am here to remind you of one simple message: GET WELL SOON!"

We just take today, tuck the best of it away, and keep it for tomorrow...soft touches included.

Dianne ; )