By Lynna Clark

Have you ever been so embarrassed that you wanted to crawl under a table and hide? Like the time when I was a young mother and my skirt fell off at homecoming. We’re talking church gym full of covered dishes and gloriously sanctified saints. This was in the eighties so picture a cute little yellow wrap around number that tied on the side. My darling middle child, who was about five at the time, poked a hole in the bottom of her Styrofoam cup with her pointy little finger. Red punch poured freely onto those nearby while she examined her homemade fountain with wonder. Being a young nimble woman, I jumped into action. Unbeknownst to me the knotted end of my skirt tie was caught in the foldy part of the metal chair where I was perched. In one fell swoop my skirt was left behind as I bounded toward the buffet line for napkins. Praise God for petticoats.

Fast forward to 2019.

We’ve been dealing with a health issue for quite a while. I say “we” because David, my better half for 45 years has journeyed with me through all kinds of treatments. A few weeks ago the pain increased to the point that we decided to consult our family physician. I’ve been through so many tests and “cures” down through the years, that frankly even though I love my new doctor and have the utmost respect for her, I’ve never actually talked with her about this mystery. I decided it was time.

Together we chose a medication that might relieve some of the pain. By the second week in, I could barely toddle without help. Thank the good Lord I haven’t had to be in a hurry to fetch napkins. Annyyywayyy…

At my urging, David took me to a baby shower. Since I really wanted to see our nieces and nephews and all the new babies they’re having, I assured him I’d be fine. We parked close to the door but as he helped me inside, the August heat hit full force. I stumbled and could not tell which way was up. I’ve never been so drunk in all my life. Suddenly I felt very old and feeble. It was even more embarrassing than losing my skirt at church. Later one of my sweet nieces asked if I’d like to hold her baby. I shook my head no then mumbled something about being on drugs. Seems like I laughed quite a bit longer than I should have. Thankfully though, I still had all my clothes on.

When we left, David led me to the car. I stumbled again and hung onto him for dear life. Bless his sweet heart. Like the gentleman he is, he took the drunk girl home. I settled into my recliner and had a good cry. A short while later his sister Gail sent him a text to check on me. Her kindness reminded me of several things.

We all go through embarrassment. Some events are still funny forty years later while others are too fresh to laugh at just yet. AND the people who love us are going to love us no matter what. So since I’m not quite ready to laugh at my current embarrassment, here are two quotes found on Facebook lately that relate.

One: “I can talk an awful lot of smack for someone who tips over when putting on their underwear. Two: “People who are chronically ill are not pretending to be sick. They are pretending to be well.”

By the way, I called a nurse to ask for advice. She was very kind and suggested three things.

One: Stay cool. Two: Move slowly. Three: Call her back if I pass out.

First of all, this is the August from Sheol if I’m not mistaken. Second, I can’t move any slower. I’m already in sloth mode. Third, if I pass out, surely someone else will call 911.

Update:

One month later it’s still hot. But thankfully I was weaned off the extra meds and got the bulk of my balance back. So if you were one of the many people who gave me grace during the questionable times, I love you. And someday if you find yourself staggering, I promise to give you the benefit of the doubt.

It’s just no fun falling down drunk without a party.