I Get By... With A Little Help From My Friends

“What would you do if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and throw tomatoes at me?” OK, so I know that line is not what we hear when listening to the recorded version, but if you love The Beatles as much as I do, you know that it is the original line. Side note: Many original working lines were changed; check out “Yesterday” as it is especially fascinating. Ringo insisted upon changing this particular line in “With A Little Help From My Friends” out of fear that tomatoes would actually be thrown. (Poor Richard Starkey was nervous because the group was previously doused with jelly babies during a performance shortly after George shared he had a weakness for the candy).

Anyways, I digress. As those of you who are faithful readers of my blog already know, I always choose a song to go alone with my posts. This particular song has been especially meaningful to me over the last few months. In February, I had surgery and was completely dependent upon others to do a number of things for me. For some of those tasks, it wasn’t overly difficult. I readily accepted, and even asked for, help mowing my lawn, cleaning my house, changing the sheets on my bed, driving me places, but I will be the first to admit that helplessness in any degree is not an easy position for me to take. Yet, here I was, completely dependent upon others for some of the most mundane tasks. I had to accept help cutting my food, putting toothpaste on my toothbrush, taking a shower, even tying my shoes. Despite the fact that it was not the least bit easy, I didn’t have much of a choice. Well, yes I did, but if I didn’t accept help, I would have been a cranky, hungry woman with bad breath, stinky armpits, and untied shoes. Given my choices, accepting help seemed to be the better option.

For two months I felt at my most vulnerable (or close to it) and like I didn’t have much control - neither of which are very comfortable. To put it bluntly, I think I’d rather stand outside during a blizzard in my bathing suit than to be so vulnerable. Ok, ok, I tend to exaggerate to make a point, but I just want to make sure it's clear how much I dislike not being helpless.

So, the purpose of this post? To complain? To wallow? Elicit pity? Not at all. I write all this because I want to say “thank you”. To all those who have helped me over the last few months and who have offered continued help as my surgical recovery continues, thank you so much. I know that I may have deserved a tomato (or two or three) in my face, but I'm extremely grateful for the lack of such aggression, despite the fact that retaliation was likely deserved. I have truly experienced the Body in a refreshingly beautiful way, and, although far outside my comfort zone, I think maybe, just maybe, I might be inclined to accept help again.

After all, I get by with a little help from my friends. Thanks, everyone!