Then again, sometimes you DO get a second chance

A few months ago, I wrote about my friend who suffered a cerebral aneurysm on a clear blue September afternoon.  I feared for her life and future and also for her 10-year old son.   I regretted the many times I could have been a better friend, particularly the times I could have invited them into our lives more, but used mommyhood as an excuse not to.

I didn’t think I would get a second chance with this particular friend, but I vowed to treasure and nurture my other friendships.

My friend had multiple brain surgeries.  At first, the doctors didn’t think she would survive.  Then she suffered a pulmonary embolism and nearly died again.  After several weeks in a drug-induced coma, they allowed her to wake up, but she was not herself.  She could smile and nod.  That was about it.  Some days, she seemed to recognize her family.  Other days, she did not.  She developed pneumonia.  It began to look like her future would involve extensive nursing care and her son would be raised by others.

And then, one day, miraculously, she woke up.  She was answering questions and conversing and trying to figure out where the heck she was and how nearly two months had passed.  Within a few days, she had her cellphone at her bedside and she had resumed many of her motherly duties – calling the school about forms and basketball tryouts.  Calling her son to check on his homework.  Arranging rides and playdates. 

Truly a miracle.

Since then, she has fought a long and hard recovery battle.  Some mental confusion and short-term memory issues have slowly cleared.  Trying to regain strength in her weakened body is an ongoing task.  She’s sporting a sassy short haircut which finally covers the extensive scars on her scalp.  But she’s back to work, driving carpools, checking homework, cooking dinner and doing the things that we all take for granted every day.

Last week, her son came over after school.  She picked him up on her way home from work, and, as 10-year old boys do, he didn’t want to leave until he finished the ridiculously long Wii hockey game he was playing with my oldest son.

My daughter had to get to basketball practice, my kindergartener hadn’t done his homework, my husband had a service he needed to attend at church.  But I thought back to my last post about this, and all the times I wished I had invited them to stay, in circumstances EXACTLY like this, and I pulled out a dining room chair and told her, “Sit down.  You’re staying for dinner.”

This is an original DC Metro Moms post.  Sue writes about life and laundry at My Party of 6.