My frog was small. #sol19

slice of life updated

Last fall I heard @glennondoyle say something in her Instastory that ran through my brain each time I went to the hospital for IVIG infusion treatments. She shared a saying her family says to themselves and one another: Eat the frog.

“Eat the frog” means get the unpleasant stuff, the stuff that you least want to do, the stuff that is weighing you down, done first. Then you have the rest of the day for the good stuff. As I drifted in and out of the Benadryl haze that is part of the immunoglobulin infusion experience, those words rolled around in my brain.

Some days I was in a private room with a big window and beautiful light. It was quiet there and I slept for hours.

Other times I was in an interior space with patients who were getting infusions with cocktails far more challenging than mine. Patients whose diagnoses made my autoimmune mystery look like a skinned knee or bug bite. There was no privacy and it was impossible not to overhear nurses inquiring gently about their side effects.  It was hard not to see the resolute expressions on the faces of these patients’ companions. And it was hard not to think, “Wow these people are ‘eating the frog’ every single  day right now.”

My frog was small by comparison and while the damage done by the autoimmune attack in my leg may be permanent, the worst seems to be over for me. I still wonder though about the the man in the chair across from me whose face looked so young, whose wedding ring looked so new, whose wife looked so worried.

11 thoughts on “My frog was small. #sol19

  1. Lisa, this is absolutely beautiful! I love how you gradually unveil the empathy in your experience. Also, I enjoyed the surprise of the title, which had me thinking it was about losing a pet frog as a child.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “My frog was small.” I love how you looked around at those facing tougher times and bigger frogs. And your last paragraph has all of us wondering about that young couple.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Beautiful post. I hadn’t heard that expression before and I know it will stick with me. I’m sorry for your medical difficulties, but your empathy is so inspiring. Wishing you health and happiness.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I like the way you started with a quote to lead into your personal story. The final sentence sounds poetic. As for the content, I’m sorry that you’ve had to deal with a challenging health issue, and I hope that you have a full recovery!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Lisa, I always love reading your writing. And the vulnerability you slowly reveal in this post, the way you bring us into a tough subject and create comparisons with similar situations around you… and the ending. Quite poignant. Thank you for this.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I confess that I have never heard that phrase before, or if I heard it, it leaped right over my head. Thanks for enlightening me with a really useful thought. My brother-in-law is going for regular injections these days and has shared similar reflections on the stoic patients he’s seeing at these sessions. Your writing is powerful. The last image packs a punch.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Thanks for your post today. I also get infusions every eight weeks for Crohns. I have often watched those others getting infusions for much serious issues. You have given me a new way to think about it. I love the quote.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. I used to have that phrase on my wall and kids thought it was hilarious but always opened a great conversation.

    I heard Mark Twain was the originator and the full phrase is: Eat a Live Frog Every Morning, and Nothing Worse Will Happen to You the Rest of the Day

    Liked by 2 people

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