What? Is it really the middle of August? The last week and a half has sort of disappeared. My hernia surgery 10 days ago went well—but I had sort of blocked out the possibility of post-surgical discomfort. What's the word I'm struggling for? Oh, yeah—pain. There was pain, indeed. And pain medications. Now, I don't normally use much by way of medications. The odd ibuprofen now and then just about sums it up, so the vicodin just knocked me out. I'd take one every 4 hours as prescribed and then I'd nod off like the hapless family member on Intervention who is the focus of much concern.
I loved the relief from the pain but I hated the odd sense of not being part of the scene that the meds left me with. You should have seen me trying to swatch a new Fair Isle design while under the influence. My knitting was V E R Y slow and deliberate.
The surgical wound is healing up, the tumor they discovered was benign, and my doctor assures me that any twinges and swelling I currently experience will go away in time. I've been off the pain meds for several days and can feel my energy returning. However, scientific studies have shown that it takes a long time, months, to recover emotionally from even minor surgery, that although modern anesthetics (hooray!) keep our minds from remembering the pain, to our bodies it is as though we've been mauled by a bear. I will try to be mindful of this fact, and patient.
On the knitting side of life (oh dear, the meds have done something to my brain: I suddenly started singing "Keep on the knitting side, always on the knitting side, keep on the knitting side of life...") I've had the yarn playpen up and filled in preparation for the upcoming 3-day Design Your Own Fair Isle workshop (which is full, by the way, but if you are interested in getting notices about upcoming workshops just email me at mailinglist@feralknitter.com). When the yarn is spread out my ideas just cannot be contained.
Meet Muir, my newest brainstorm—I'm forcing myself to finish Hillside and Lingonberry before I launch into this one:
Muted, haunting, calming....
Now I'm off to Seattle for a few days. My sister and I plan to have a private memorial for my mother, spreading her ashes as she requested up near where she was born. We will probably have lunch at the La Conner Tavern one last time in her honor, walk the main street of town, and visit some cousins. My sister said she has the feeling of being a geographic orphan now that both of our parents are dead—I understand. There is a sense of saying goodbye not only to Mom but to the Pacific Northwest, which is disconcerting indeed. We truly never know the future—I have always assumed that we will return to Washington when John retires, but I need to embrace the turn my life has taken. "We will not regret the past nor wish to dwell on it," says the literature of the 12-step programs. I can tell I need to resist the pull of nostalgia!
Muir is just lovely. One of your best - and they're all lovely! Glad you're recovering. A little nostalgia isn't harmful from time to time. Being sad is part of being alive. Take care.
Posted by: M-H | August 17, 2011 at 05:27 PM
What a lousy summer this has been for you. I hope this is the end of all things bad and that you recover quickly.
Muir is very beautiful.
Posted by: Francesca | August 17, 2011 at 08:49 PM
Get well soon, in as many ways as needed.
Posted by: Joan | August 17, 2011 at 09:02 PM
Get well soon!
Posted by: Acornbud | August 17, 2011 at 11:13 PM
I'm 3 months out from my 3rd knee replacement (called a "revision")due to hidden bone cysts. The surgery was a total surprise - only had a few days to organize and get it in my head where I was going (literally and figuratively). The only time I now notice effects from the anesthesia/pain meds is when something I see or hear could make me physically threatened or uncomfortable. I'm typically not very sensitive to those things, but I've noticed I will wince or shiver or whatever at something uncomfortable. It is getting better, so I expect it will evenetually go away. Luckily, I knew ahead of time that part of the total healing process was tending to my heart and soul as well.
Muir is touching in its beauty and gentleness. I look forward to seeing it in a larger project.
Continued prayers and postive thoughts to you and your family.
Posted by: Deb | August 17, 2011 at 11:19 PM
I was ill two weeks in May and then June 3 had major dental surgery. I did well recuperating from the surgery, but somehow I lost a whole month of time. I refused to take any pain meds for the reasons you mentioned in your piece. Thank goodness I did not bleed or have dry sockets or any other nasty stuff everyone was warning me about. The difficulty was recuperating from surgery takes a long time out of your life. I am no longer young enough to just jump right up and move on. It was an effort to just get up, take a shower and dress. I love Muir and the softness of the colors. It is beautiful.
Posted by: Juliann | August 19, 2011 at 06:47 AM
I was dropping by to let you know that I mailed your first CSA share this afternoon; hadn't realized so much going on in your life! I hope the trip to the Northwest gives peace and comfort, and am grateful to hear your surgery resulted in a benign diagnosis.
Posted by: Birdsong | August 19, 2011 at 03:14 PM