Tony sent me a lovely flower arrangement on Monday. Yellow roses surrounded by daisies. Oh, daisies. My favorite flower in the world are all manners of daisies.

From the pop art daisies that grace my right arm in pinks and blues and oranges to the white simple ones that are what most people think of when they see them.

Our wedding included daisies even though it was in October and out of season, solely because I required them to be a part of the day. The small arrangements of silk flowers still decorate our home. (we used silk because of allergies in the wedding party.)

Back to the daisies sitting here in front of me. Tony sent them to me to help keep my spirits up. He is of the mindset that the happier I am, the more mentally strong I am, the better the outcome of my surgery will be.

I agree. I went into the surgeries in the fall, not knowing what would happen, and often unaware as I was in and out of it.

Five surgeries to remove the abscess that had walled off my intestines, to clean out my body, to make two ostomy/fistula sites to help keep my body functioning.

I was pretty damn sick. According to my surgeon, I have the most complex case he’s ever seen, but he has assured me he can take the pieces of my intestines and put them back together.

Even though all my doctors were sure that I wouldn’t make it to this point, he know is confident he can fix me.

My spirit and mind fought to stay here through all of the surgeries and nights in the ICU. Nights were much of what I remember is being turned on these yellow wedges to keep my body from developing pressure wounds.

I much prefer the yellow of my daisies to the yellow of those damned position wedges. My hope is that being more alert and oriented going into this surgery will help me to deal with the aftermath better.

Much of November and December is lost to me. I spent most of it in the ICU, Tony standing beside me for the 12 hours a day of visitation, holding my hands, rubbing my head, and rooting me on to survive.

There is one night I remember, that I told him to go away, it was time for me to go, but he had to leave first. He refused and held me all the tighter to this world.

When it would get to the point that it was obvious that I wanted to not be touched, he would sit there and just watch me, his sheer will pulling for me to survive.

There is no doubt in my mind that his love and strength are the reason I am still here and facing the toughest battle of my life. And, I know he’ll be here beside me, holding my hand, rubbing my head and my feet, pulling the toughness out of me so I will continue to fight.

Physical Therapy today was tough. I was in pain already and cranky because of being pushed towards going into a nursing home. they want me to go to one until my surgery, but, I’ll save tht whole saga for tomorrow.

Thank you for reading and your comments, love and prayers.

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