I am all about the presents. And the cards. And the pretty pretty magazines that are heavy on pictures and fluff pieces about celebrities. I have a lovely morphine-laced concept of the Michelle Obama interview in "O" and am fully aware of the importance of saturated pastels in this spring's chic wardrobe. (And am very frightened of the resurgence of jumpsuits.)
The first package came while I was still in ICU - Jen brought me a bag of amusements. Thanks Jen!!! And the instinct that flowers are not allowed in ICU is correct... that's a no, no matter what.
By the time I made it to the post-operative ward (my favorite "4 SE" where I have been before) my family had fetched the things I wanted from home: an afghan my mom had crocheted when I was 13 and going through the endless tests and hospital visits, and a wire figurine / dancer / star thingy I had bought at the West Seattle Arts market the summer I was first listed for a tx. I knew she would be with me when I got a new liver... don't know why I didn't taker her with me to check-in. Hm!
I know I got several stuffed animals and some balloons which really brightened my room. In addition, there were tons of magazines, puzzle books (which are now proving very useful) and 4 flower arrangements... which, I didn't know... I couldn't have in my room. My family took them home, but the dweebs did not take photos... so I only know that "they were pretty."
But here's the worst part: I have no idea what came from whom, and therefore have to send out a blanket thank you. Ugh.
Now, in this case, I know which Heather (C.) sent the flowers - thanks, Heather! But this is by process of elimination, since the other Heather I know brought me a pretty scarf yesterday with the "I waited till you were home" preface. The last time I was in for surgery, though, I knew five different Lindas (or Lyndas -- the flower shop people spell phoenetically), all of whom were likely to send me a flower arrangement. Luckily I asked all of them while I was still high as a kite, so there was no social awkwardness... but.
When I worked in a flower shop, I don't think I ever put last names on delivery cards. I wish I had, now... for unless a person is blessed only with friends named Penelope or Beauregard, there are likely duplicate names... and cards get separated... and....
So, ANYHOW, thank you to everyone for the cards, flowers, balloons, and soft squishies. The people at work, I know who they are... and yours is coming. But then, in addition to the material stuff (for which I have some sort of evidence) comes all the good thoughts, prayers, kind words, and the work people are doing in my stead. Thanks!