• Julee Wilson

Thousand Reasons Thursdays, Episode 8


Just in case you were curious why my friend Pam was hobbling over to my bedside in the last episode, here is a conversation we had a few days before:


Another morning came, and I was on the cheery side because Pam, one of my Sorority Sisters from our local ALum group, was coming by for a visit. I carefully got up to use the bathroom and took a quick shower, so I would be presentable. As I was combing through my long, wet hair, I felt a small trickle make its way down my inner thigh. I sighed heavily and made my way as quickly as possible back to bed, thighs squeezed together so as not to let any more amniotic fluid out. I slowly and cautiously climbed back into the hospital bed and positioned myself carefully in the center of the bed on the freshly-laid towel that had been placed there to absorb any accidental leakings. The orderly must have come in to change my sheets while I was in the shower. As I was adjusting the angle of the bed, the phone rang and made me jump, expelling another squirt of amniotic fluid. I needed to answer the phone, and I needed to tell the nurse about the leaking. I chose the phone.


“Hello?”


“Hi, Julee, it’s Pam!”


“Hey! I’m looking forward to your visit!”


“Yeah, so funny story, I threw my back out a couple of days ago and have been ordered by my chiropractor to be on bedrest! I can’t sit at all. I can only stand for a short time, but mostly I can only lay flat on my back!”


“Oh, Pam, that stinks!! Are you in a lot of pain?”


“Yeah, but I’m taking some muscle relaxers, and stuff. Just trying to stay still. I totally understand though - this is so boring!”


“Yeah, all I can do is watch TV or read. So, bummer, you can’t come then?”


“Nope! But ‘Misery loves company,’ so we can at least talk on the phone!”


We talked for a few more minutes and then it was time for my vitals to be checked, doctor’s rounds, and then lunch - again. I was really hoping for some food from the “outside,” but I choked down my sandwich anyway.

There was only one other time I had felt this alone. But it wasn’t quite the same - there was this nagging sensation this time - a tugging, if you will. Something/Someone drawing my attention out of myself. I kept looking over at the nightstand at the little stack of encouraging books on top of my Bible that people had brought me as gifts. I glanced at the stack of cassette tapes next to the boombox Casey had brought in, so I could listen to our Pastor’s Sunday Sermons. A wave of paralyzing sadness came over me, and I quickly looked away and clicked on the TV

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