Growing Edges
alexa lopezArchive for Kids
Toilet Terrors
~~ Our daughter gave me permission to tell this story. Thanks, “Sis,” for being able to laugh about it now. ~~
I had some wacky, unreasonable fears as a child.
One of those was my fear of the toilet clogging. I guess I was convinced that a clogged toilet would overflow and flood the house and we would all drown. Unreasonable fear.
So I would finish my business, wash my hands, open the door, then flush the toilet and run for my life. I did this everytime I used the toilet and, of course, outgrew it at some point.
Our second daughter had the same fear.
‘Saja feared a flushing toilet…not the sound, but the possibility of it clogging and her being trapped there, next to it.
When she was six, her aunt took us to Disneyland and she was in one of the bathroom stalls FOREVER. Then I heard her crying, and I became concerned.
“What’s wrong, Honey? Are you sick?” I asked.
Through choked sobs she answered, “I…can’t…get…off…the…toilet.”
“What? Why?” I’m thinking someone put superglue on the seat or something.
“The toilet’s going to flush by itself.” It was one of those sensor/self-flushing toilets. In her mind, she was trapped because if she got off the toilet seat, it would flush and she would die before I could rescue her from the flood.
I giggled at the horrible irony of this. She couldn’t get off the toilet to open the stall so I could set up her escape, and she didn’t want to be in there when it flushed. My memory of the dilemma ends there. I know we got her out alive.
That same year, she was in the bathtub and one of her younger brothers needed to use the toilet, so she closed the curtain for the sake of both their privacy. From the living room we heard an alarming scream and panicked cries for help. Richard and I sprinted down the hall to see the bathroom door open, her brother hopping around in a panic, his eyes wide with fear, and pointing into the bathroom; we expected to see a bloody headwound from a slip in the tub or something.
‘Saja’s worst fear had happened. She was trapped in the bathtub while the toilet, which stood between the her and the door, overflowed. Her brother had used too much toilet paper and clogged it. The expression of sheer terror on her face gripped my heart. “Oh, dear Lord,” I prayed. “Of all the people in the house this could have happened to, it had to be her.”
After things had settled down I had the chance to revisit it with her. “Hey, you know what? Your biggest fear happened today. And you survived it.”
She is fourteen now. I just noticed today that she has outgrown that fear…to the extent that when the toilet clogs (thank you, little brothers), she’s the first one to get the plunger.
When did that happen?
That’s my girl.
© Alexa Lopez, 2009
Just Because I Can
I underwent a pretty major surgery five days ago. I recover quickly from surgery….quicker than the average patient, so I wasn’t intimidated by the “major” part.
Well, they say it’s major. I guess it is considering the list of “Don’ts” my surgeon gave me (this is only a partial list):
I’m supposed to avoid climbing stairs for a couple of weeks, and if I do, I’m to pause every few steps. Okay, all the bedrooms are upstairs and the living space and kitchen are downstairs. This restriction is unreasonable, especially since I have no pain when I climb the stairs. My conclusion: this restriction doesn’t apply so much to me; I estimate I’ve been up and down the stairs ten times each day since I got home from the hospital.
I’m not supposed to drive for a couple of weeks. Yeah, right. I don’t understand this one. I haven’t driven yet, but I’ll need to next week when school is back in session from Spring Break. My conclusion: I’m off my pain meds, so maybe this restriction doesn’t apply to my situation?
I’m not…absolutely not…to lift anything heavier than 10 pounds for six weeks. I’ve been here before, after two hernia repairs. This one is do-able and I take it very seriously…provided I remember to ask someone to come grocery shopping with me.
I can’t vacuum until my doctor says it’s okay. Are you kidding me? I have five kids and two cats! Besides, vacuuming is the one thing about housekeeping I actually enjoy. Alas, I’ll delegate that until I’m released by my doctor.
The instructions also say to walk as often as I feel able. As in, walk about aimlessly, doing nothing. I can’t do that.
So I suppose I am taking things at a pace according to what I think I’m ready for, not taking into account that there likely are solid studies that make the post-op restrictions necessary for proper recovery.
Today I was feeling really good, so I asked my oldest daughter to drive me to the library and then to the store. See? No driving, no lifting.
We get home; I’m still okay but feeling like I should probably get off my feet. Knowing that getting me to rest when I feel okay is like trying to catch the wind, Richard is pleading with me to take it easy and ask the kids to help me while he’s gone.
After a rest, I color eggs with the kids. Then I make egg salad with the extra eggs. Then I clean the kitchen. Then I do a load of laundry, all the while telling my daughters “No thanks, I’m good” when they ask if I need any help. Doing well, right?
Once I finally sit down, I notice my surgical incision is bleeding for the first time in two days. I’ve overdone it. *Sigh*
Richard arrived home to see me on the couch with an ice pack. He was pleased that I was off my feet. Then I told him about my incision. Now he’s really worried about me, and perhaps thinking he can’t leave me alone for a minute because his doer wife does too much.
Well, I’ve learned (or have I?) that just because I can do, doesn’t mean I should do.
Which means I don’t get to do what I enjoy so much: take care of my family rather than they taking care of me.
This is really hard.
© Alexa Lopez, 2009
