Yesterday was Thanksgiving. We had a typical dinner, at 2:00 PM, the old fashioned time for dinner, watched football, had a late supper of leftovers. But it was a special day.
My father, who was an immigrant, a legal one, had the legal immigrant's gratitude to the US. His favorite holidays were Thanksgiving and July Fourth. He was very genuinely grateful for a new life in a new country, all the more touching because of his illness, which would have made many men bitter.
I too love Thanksgiving. For me, it is more about gratitude, which implies some debt or obligation, or at least ongoing emotional relationship, rather than thanks, which are often given for deeds. We typically say 'thanks' when someone holds open a door. Gratitude is what we feel when we have received a great favor. When the holiday was first celebrated, the thanks were being given to God, something many people don't feel or acknowledge at all. With the transformation of the use of the word, and the secularization of the holiday, Thanksgiving now sounds rather flip to me. Day of Gratitude feels more like it.
Thanksgiving is also celebrated with a large meal. Does our nation look like it has missed many meals? Are we, as a nation, short of things? It feels wrong to express thanks for plenty through a day of formal gluttony. The holiday feels more spiritual to me than that. The meal is closer to the term eucharist than feast, a formal use of food to create fellowship and express thanks to God. That means a great deal to me now. Yesterday was a very special Thanksgiving. It was the first one after my surgeries.
Last year, I was in the hospital on Thansgiving, after my nephrectomies. They had been done laparoscopically, but the minimal incisions did not mean there had been minimal surgery. I had very large kidneys, but also a great deal of scarring from ruptured and bleeding cysts over the years. It took 5 and 1/2 hours to remove them, and I lost rather more than three units of blood. My hematocrit was 47 going in, and 28 leaving. I bled enough during surgery they were afraid to place an anticoagulated temporary dialysis catheter, and I went back to the OR the next afternoon for my 'permanent' temporary catheter. I was dialyzed emergently the first night because my potassium was dangerously high. 15 pounds of fluid were removed in 4 hours, all of it of course coming from my vascular space. It left me unable to stand from hypotension.
I developed an ileus (a temporary paralysis of the bowel), and could not tolerate any diet. I kept getting a diet as tolerated, and I felt hungry, but vomited many times daily, day and night. Although I dozed, I did not sleep for 4 days. I had the indignity of getting a suppository placed to try and relieve the ileus. I couldn't place it myself. When this failed, I was given an enema, the first time since I was 4 years old, and in the presence of my very patient and loving wife. This ultimately improved my bowel function to the point where I could tolerate fluids and a few bites of solids.
The next morning I was dialyzed, held down a glass of water and a cup of tea, and was discharged. We spent the night in a hotel, in case I had any complications. Again I only dozed a bit, trying hard not to vomit. The next morning we drove home. Two days later I had my first dialysis in Maryville, and I got hungry at the end. We stopped at Wendy's near the airport, where I had half a Wendy's single and a junior vanilla Frosty. It was the largest meal I had had in 8 days.
In the middle of all this, on the worst night in the hospital, I completely broke down. I felt worse than I had ever felt in my life. I called my wife at 2:30 AM, crying, asking her to come in. She did, and I told her 'I made a mistake. I should have just died'. She persuaded me there was reason to live, showing me responses to the Caring Bridge web site as evidence that people cared that I lived.
You may be quite sure I was grateful yesterday. I got to eat dinner, which I could not do last year. I received a transplant, the kidney donated by a former co-worker. I lived to see my daughter go to college, and my son blossom in high school. I lived to return to work. And I could eat what ever I wanted yesterday. No renal diet limitations, no potassium limitations, no phosphorous or calcium limits.
In the Episcopal communion service, one of the prayers says 'we therefore remember his suffering and death', even as the priest prepares for a celebration of union with the risen Christ.
I always understood that, but I most surely understand it better now. I am grateful for my life in part because of what I had to endure to have it. Part of gratitude is formed in suffering. The original Thanksgiving was in gratitude for food after a substantial part of the Pilgrims' expedition had starved to death. All of us are most grateful for things we have lost and found, or nearly lost. The Pilgrims were deeply grateful to God simply for being fed. I am grateful I could eat at all, lived just to see my children get up in the morning. I lived by the grace of God, and the support and intervention of my wife and my donor.
My Thanksgiving dinner was just that. And my communion, my eucharist, looks like a Wendy's hamburger and a Frosty.
Ted
My father, who was an immigrant, a legal one, had the legal immigrant's gratitude to the US. His favorite holidays were Thanksgiving and July Fourth. He was very genuinely grateful for a new life in a new country, all the more touching because of his illness, which would have made many men bitter.
I too love Thanksgiving. For me, it is more about gratitude, which implies some debt or obligation, or at least ongoing emotional relationship, rather than thanks, which are often given for deeds. We typically say 'thanks' when someone holds open a door. Gratitude is what we feel when we have received a great favor. When the holiday was first celebrated, the thanks were being given to God, something many people don't feel or acknowledge at all. With the transformation of the use of the word, and the secularization of the holiday, Thanksgiving now sounds rather flip to me. Day of Gratitude feels more like it.
Thanksgiving is also celebrated with a large meal. Does our nation look like it has missed many meals? Are we, as a nation, short of things? It feels wrong to express thanks for plenty through a day of formal gluttony. The holiday feels more spiritual to me than that. The meal is closer to the term eucharist than feast, a formal use of food to create fellowship and express thanks to God. That means a great deal to me now. Yesterday was a very special Thanksgiving. It was the first one after my surgeries.
Last year, I was in the hospital on Thansgiving, after my nephrectomies. They had been done laparoscopically, but the minimal incisions did not mean there had been minimal surgery. I had very large kidneys, but also a great deal of scarring from ruptured and bleeding cysts over the years. It took 5 and 1/2 hours to remove them, and I lost rather more than three units of blood. My hematocrit was 47 going in, and 28 leaving. I bled enough during surgery they were afraid to place an anticoagulated temporary dialysis catheter, and I went back to the OR the next afternoon for my 'permanent' temporary catheter. I was dialyzed emergently the first night because my potassium was dangerously high. 15 pounds of fluid were removed in 4 hours, all of it of course coming from my vascular space. It left me unable to stand from hypotension.
I developed an ileus (a temporary paralysis of the bowel), and could not tolerate any diet. I kept getting a diet as tolerated, and I felt hungry, but vomited many times daily, day and night. Although I dozed, I did not sleep for 4 days. I had the indignity of getting a suppository placed to try and relieve the ileus. I couldn't place it myself. When this failed, I was given an enema, the first time since I was 4 years old, and in the presence of my very patient and loving wife. This ultimately improved my bowel function to the point where I could tolerate fluids and a few bites of solids.
The next morning I was dialyzed, held down a glass of water and a cup of tea, and was discharged. We spent the night in a hotel, in case I had any complications. Again I only dozed a bit, trying hard not to vomit. The next morning we drove home. Two days later I had my first dialysis in Maryville, and I got hungry at the end. We stopped at Wendy's near the airport, where I had half a Wendy's single and a junior vanilla Frosty. It was the largest meal I had had in 8 days.
In the middle of all this, on the worst night in the hospital, I completely broke down. I felt worse than I had ever felt in my life. I called my wife at 2:30 AM, crying, asking her to come in. She did, and I told her 'I made a mistake. I should have just died'. She persuaded me there was reason to live, showing me responses to the Caring Bridge web site as evidence that people cared that I lived.
You may be quite sure I was grateful yesterday. I got to eat dinner, which I could not do last year. I received a transplant, the kidney donated by a former co-worker. I lived to see my daughter go to college, and my son blossom in high school. I lived to return to work. And I could eat what ever I wanted yesterday. No renal diet limitations, no potassium limitations, no phosphorous or calcium limits.
In the Episcopal communion service, one of the prayers says 'we therefore remember his suffering and death', even as the priest prepares for a celebration of union with the risen Christ.
I always understood that, but I most surely understand it better now. I am grateful for my life in part because of what I had to endure to have it. Part of gratitude is formed in suffering. The original Thanksgiving was in gratitude for food after a substantial part of the Pilgrims' expedition had starved to death. All of us are most grateful for things we have lost and found, or nearly lost. The Pilgrims were deeply grateful to God simply for being fed. I am grateful I could eat at all, lived just to see my children get up in the morning. I lived by the grace of God, and the support and intervention of my wife and my donor.
My Thanksgiving dinner was just that. And my communion, my eucharist, looks like a Wendy's hamburger and a Frosty.
Ted
I am grateful for you and I'm sure I speak for many others! Thank you for all you have done for us. You are here for a reason!
ReplyDeleteLike your father, I, too, like Thanksgiving, and feel that gratitude is the proper response for the gift of life. Five years ago, my father had surgery in November for a dissecting thoracic aortic aneurysm and our family was able to celebrate that first Thanksgiving with him as he had made it home from the hospital, so I empathize with your post-surgery Thanksgiving gratitude.
ReplyDeleteDavid