The Pettiest of Petty Things

 Herself speaks.

Recently, Beloved Husband had his vision surgically corrected. It was something he has spoken about for a while as wanting to do; he up and decided at the turn of the New Year to take immediate steps to put it on the calendar. And so, it was done. 

He mentioned afterward that for the procedure, they offered all patients a teddy bear to hold. And while I know that's essentially a distraction so that the patient's hands are occupied and they won't accidentally touch anything they should not (such as the sterile eyeball field), all I could think was, once more, his lucky star was shining through -- he was offered a comfort item to hold, during an elective procedure he chose to have. 

Never once, in the history of ever, in all the various non-elective (and varying-degrees-of-unpleasant) procedures I have needed to have, have I ever been offered a comfort item. It's hard to bring your own stuffed animal when you're an adult -- no one wants to seem juvenile or afraid. But a teddy bear would have been helpful on more than one occasion. Moreso than, "Don't cry, you'll get all stuffy." 

Help, I'm envious of this seemingly inconsequential thing. 

I am truly glad for him, that he could undertake this elective procedure that he wanted. And that it went well, and all was good. 

And at the same time, inside my heart, I envy his good experience, and his comfort. Because those are not things I have gotten to have. I carry memories of some very unpleasant medical experiences within this body. How I wish I could forget them. 

Perhaps next time (because we all know I will have a Next Time), I'll bring my own comfort item.