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It’s been brought to my attention that I’ve failed to update the blog here and let people know that I am, in fact, alive.  So, here I am, alive.

It’s been just over three weeks since my surgery, and things are going, but going slowly.  I can walk, but not easily.  I can sit, but not comfortably.  Sleep is a hard-won commodity and I end up with a lot more urine on me than I’m used to having.  These things are all going to get better– they’ve already improved a lot in the short time since all the bandages, packing and catheter were removed. I’m mostly off pain medication now, too.  I take Tylenol from time to time as I need it, but I no longer take anything like clockwork.

In other words, I’m doing well.  Or at least as well as you might expect from someone who’s had a relatively major surgery.  Things are still settling, though, physically and emotionally, so there will be another post in which I say more about everything.  Rest assured, though, it is coming.


I just got off the phone with the hospital, confirmed my check-in time for Monday, and now I’m starting what I expect to be the longest weekend of my life.  Waiting.  Just waiting.   For someone who usually hates Mondays, Dec 5th will not come soon enough.  I have things to do and I know I’ll stay plenty busy doing laundry and packing up any last minute necessities, but the time is dragging by so slowly already, that I can’t imagine the next two and a half days feeling like anything other than dog years.

The closest thing it reminds me of is Fred Clark’s post about Holy Saturday.  My life has been an endless period of waiting for this Monday, this turning point in my own calendar.  There were times where I thought I would never see this, as though the timer had stopped and would be stopped for years– there was none of what Fred calls “Sunday certainty.”  Only hope.  Then it started, moving, closer and closer, and December couldn’t get here fast enough, and where did all that time go?  The days have passed, the weeks, the months, and now, I’m at the cusp. It feels a bit like a dream, like I’ll wake up on Monday and realize that I dreamt all of this and that I am, of all people, most to be pitied.  I feel like I can’t speak with the certainty that this will happen because it hasn’t and my one fear, if I have a fear around surgery, is that it won’t happen.

From what I understand, I’ll be on morphine until Thursday and discharged from the hospital on Friday.  I’ll post an update here as soon as I can, but it may almost a week before you hear from me again.

Until then.