Good stress or bad? Pondering the pressures of a busy weekend
Stress is stress, whether it’s caused by positive or negative situations. “Both good and bad stress result in your body releasing hormones, such as adrenaline and cortisol,” one source explains. “Ultimately, what distinguishes good stress from bad is how you react or feel about the experience.”
So I’m deciding how I feel about the stresses of the last few days.
Thursday: The contractor waterproofing my basement brought his crew and did a test dig of the trench that now lines the total 190-foot-perimeter of my basement. The test showed that the insulated, finished walls would not need to be removed. They could dig under them. I thanked God, literally, and out loud.
Our friends Terry and Shirley came over that evening, and Shirley visited with Evelyn while Terry and I began covering the walls with plastic to shield against the dust the project would create. Shirley and Evelyn baked refrigerator cookies, and we enjoyed a snack before they left.
Friday: I spent the morning preparing lunch and tidying the house for my son and his wife and our grandson and my daughter-in-law’s parents, Ed and Peggy Sweeney, to visit. My son’s family usually travels at Eastertime, so this was a treat. Ed and Peggy have been our friends since long before Lisa and Geoff were married; more than once we’ve taken long vacations with them. It had been years—way too long—since they’d been in our home, and I wanted everything to be as nice as it was when Evelyn was in charge. I came close, I think, and the visit was so good.
As soon as they left, I threw a couple of pans in the sink and helped Evelyn get ready so we could drive to The Christian Village at Mason for the Good Friday service conducted by our friend David Ray, the chaplain there. We arrived right at 6:00, in time to sit with another friend before it started. Barb is a new widow, and we had arranged to attend the brief but most meaningful service with her and then grab some supper together afterward. I was relishing our conversation at the restaurant, but Evelyn was ready to leave the minute we finished the last bite.
Saturday: Three neighbors and Terry came for coffee and donuts at 10:00 a.m., followed by the grunt work of moving stuff stored in the basement away from walls to make way for the trenches. The group got the job done in no time, and then Terry and I spent a couple of hours or so covering the walls with plastic. While he was out for supplies, he got lunch to bring back for him and me and Evelyn.
That evening, Evelyn and I ate dinner with Terry and Shirley and Bill and Verna at a delightful restaurant nearby where we’d never eaten together before. It was a great time, again ending sooner than I wanted because Evelyn had become fidgety.
Sunday: I was up at 7:00 to do preliminary prep for Easter dinner with Bill and Verna coming at 1:00. The morning at church was fine, indeed: Full house and high energy in the halls and worship auditorium. I gave in to tears when we sang, “Because He lives, I can face tomorrow.” We were home by noon, just in time for me to stick the ham in the oven and cook the vegetables.
Verna and Evelyn posed at our Easter table with the beautiful centerpiece Peggy Sweeney had brought us Friday.
It was a pretty good meal! We had a relaxed visit till maybe 4:00. I cleaned up and filled the dishwasher with what was left after Verna had dealt with much of it. The kitchen was almost sparkling by 5:00. Popcorn with TV was supper that evening. I was ready to rest!
By 9:30, Evelyn really couldn’t sit still any longer and agreed she’d just like to get ready for bed.
I relished the chance, after monitoring her bedtime routine, to read a little before my typical lights-out time of about 11:00.
But Evelyn wouldn’t sleep. She was up and down, back and forth to the bathroom, wandering around the house, fiddling with what she could find in the dark on her dresser, turning her bedside lamp on and off, and trying the beds in both guest bedrooms. This went on for hours.
I pled. I ordered. I reasoned. She would not settle down. About 2:00 a.m. I discovered she had tried and failed to freshen her outfit after a failed bathroom attempt, leaving both of us some clean-up to do. But after that, she still wouldn’t rest. I think I drifted off to sleep about 3:00.
Monday: When I started waking up with the sun after 7:00, I looked over to see if she was in the bed. She smiled at me pleasantly. “I can’t believe you’re not asleep,” I told her.
“Why?” she asked. I groaned and stumbled out of bed to check my Monday blog post and get ready for the work crew due at 9:00.
Terry and Shirley had offered us their house as a respite from the bone-jarring jackhammering that would fill the day, and Evelyn and I were on our way by 11:00. Terry texted to get our Panera order, because he wanted to bring us lunch. We drove to their house through beautiful neighborhoods resplendent with hot pink redbud trees, one of my favorites. I wrote the first draft of this post in the quiet of their kitchen, overlooking their beautiful backyard framed by daffodils and arching sycamores. Evelyn was up and down between two couches, sometimes resting, sometimes reading.
And I’m pondering how I should react to all of this.
Depressed or angry or frustrated or exhausted by what this disease is doing to us and how I’m coping with it—in the midst of so much else?
Grateful or peaceful or glad or happy because of all the help and encouragement and nurture that surrounds us?
I think I might have chosen any one of those adjectives at one moment or another. But as I finish this entry, I’ll land on one more description.
Tired. Really tired. In the wake of it all, I think what I need most is a nap.
Postscript: Evelyn and I both slept well Monday night, Tuesday too. It’s amazing how much better the world looks when you’re not “jet-lagged.” This morning I think I’d choose the positive adjectives over the negatives. The good stress outweighed the bad.