It’s the day after Valentine’s Day and I’m told that there is a Tiffany’s here in downtown Chicago, right near the hospital. I haven’t exactly had the time to check out whether their post-Valentines day sale would extend to 99% off so I could swing by to pick up a diamond or two, as I’ve been a tad preoccupied since 5 a.m. this morning.. Maybe tomorrow.
Sonya and I celebrated the big day with her drinking an oral solution of Sodium Phosphate. If that doesn’t ring a bell to you, it will when you turn 50 and need to drink it before your first colonoscopy. Evidently an empty bowel makes it easier to retrieve a big liver. I’m hoping we don’t do too many more Valentines Day toasting Sodium Phosphate.
But in spite of trading in roses for IV drips, I think I’ve just witnessed one of the greatest Valentine’s Day gifts ever. And I mean ever.
Which makes me wonder if all of us generally suffer from some sort of giftlexia . . . if perhaps what we think are great gifts aren’t really that great at all . . . .and if perhaps we miss opportunities every day to give the gifts that really matter.
I don’t know. It’s just a hunch . . . but this seems right as I sit here at her bedside and watch Sonya cruise in and out of anesthesia-land.