This is now day seven after surgery, and I am feeling impatient.
I have been feeling impatient for several days.
That’s why I encourage the family to take a short hike on the beach AND go to Ghirardelli Square for ice cream sundaes on Saturday.
That’s why I decide to walk back from church Sunday, buy some groceries and carry them home. Four long, precipitous blocks down Nob Hill from Grace Cathedral. Four more blocks to Whole Foods. Two blocks back to our temporary apartment. I think the bags total less than 10 pounds. The post-op orders say no carrying things heavier than that. Then, I a fit of ambition, I make coq au vin for dinner.
My body is not amused.
Yesterday, my body pushed me flat onto my back for half a day and made me sleep. I had been hoping to taper off the Vicodin, but yesterday the pain flares again. Back on the painkillers. We have salad and Trader Joe’s frozen pizza for dinner. I go to bed at 8:30 and sleep 11 hours.
Today, I try to let the painkillers run out. My body says no. My body says you can’t do any work much more challenging that updating your jumbled contact database. My body says no standing up for too long. It’s late afternoon and I’m not dressed yet. It’s exhausting doing nothing.
And it’s humbling doing nothing. I have had the silly idea that I am in charge. I am trying to accept that I am not in charge. My body is.