During every part of waiting for surgery, I had my hexies out. I was sewing hard and fast, trying to keep anxiety at bay. It mostly worked. Having my Rilly bear there helped. All the nurses asked about what I was working on, and I was more than happy to explain. Anything to keep from talking about medical things!
One nurse was particularly interested, because she’s always wanted to quilt. She asked all kinds of questions. I explained that my therapist strongly recommended I participate in a creative endeavor with a tangible output, so I could see that I was getting somewhere, to help manage my anxiety and bipolar. She delved into more detailed questions about what other projects I’d been working on. And went into great detail about the hexies, how they worked, how did you sew them together, did the papers stay in, and more.
After a good ten minute conversation about my newfound artistic pursuits, she looked me dead in the eye and said, “Well, you’ve just got it all together there, honey.”
When I finally stopped laughing, I put my hand on her arm and said, “Oh, God bless you, ma’am, because you’re the only person on this green earth who thinks so!”
After I left the hospital, I called Daddy to give him an update. Then I told him I had a funny story for him. I got through “Well, you’ve just got it all together there, honey,” but had to stop for him to burst out laughing. He stopped suddenly and asked, “Wait, that was the punchline, right?” I assured him it was, and he went back to laughing.
Now I’m torn; I can’t decide which is better medicine, hexies or laughter.