Hudson Valley Astrologer

“Children are the hands by which we take hold of heaven.”

~ Henry Ward Beecher

It was the 3rd day of February, 2021, and I had an appointment with a surgeon 90 miles away from my home. The plan was to be dropped off at 5:00 PM, be in the OR by 6:00 PM, and if all went well, rendezvous at the same drop off point to be picked up and whisked away back home — the next day by noon.

Everything went precisely according to plan. That day marked the tail end of the Covid pandemic. Three months earlier I learned that I had renal cell carcinoma. My right kidney had to come out, but since hospitals were still being overrun with Covid patients, protocols had changed. The last place you wanted to be was in the hospital. So, I was admitted and then discharged, all within less than 19 hours.

After the operation and earning my “green socks” which were a sign I was not a fall risk and “good to go,” I arrived back at the rendezvous point where my daughter and my wife had dropped me off, but I was in no condition to drive home. I could barely walk. The car rolled up, coming to a stop right in front of me; they left the passenger seat was open. My daughter hopped out from behind the wheel and ran around the front of the car to assist and help me into the car. I was grateful because it was extraordinarily difficult to move and she was such a big help. We have a running joke in the that “Gracie is the best driver in the family,” at least according to me. Of course The Prairie Home Companion often mentioned that how we think about our own driving may be skewed. But Gracie earned the title because she learned to drive a 15 passenger Ford Transit van like it was a Honda Civic.

Six months before the operation, we were all sitting around the big farm table in the Great Room, my son and I had just gotten down from fixing the roof. The Pandemic was reaching one of its spikes at the time and he had just driven cross country, coming home from California. We mended a large patch of roof over the garage, another example of me getting help from one of “kids.” I remember sitting on the bench and having a god-awful cramp that made me wince, I’d never felt such pain and it took my breath away. My daughter, the one who is “an excellent driver” expressed her concern, somewhat shocked at the sudden but seemingly inexplicable distorted face I was making. “Oh my god! Dad, are you OK? You really need to get that checked. Something’s not right,” she said as I held onto my side.

I was dismissive and said, “ahh! It comes and goes. I’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t fine! I needed to get myself checked and I definitely needed help. Asking for help has never been a strong suit of mine. But being helped, especially by my daughter, or in the case of the roof, my son, allowed me to not only be open to letting others be of service to me when I needed it, I also learned to allow myself the grace to receive the support.

There is a no more positive impact that someone can have on someone else beyond helping them feel they are loved and lovable. Teachers and mentors rarely have this effect on us, but family does.

HVA

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