|sunflowers and snapdragons|
With all the floral bouquets, our living room looks like somebody died. Fortunately, I didn't, making it through surgery, if a bit lighter in tissue and blood. And I'm already mostly off the narcotic and back to walking 10,000 steps a day per the Fitbit, so there's that, too, to be grateful for. I'll continue to keep fingers crossed during recovery as the official reports come in. My surgeon says to nourish myself in the meantime—a word whose etymology literally derives from suckling, the infant on its mother. Adults, once weaned off the mother, must learn to feed themselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually, none of which is easy and all of which take time—even a lifetime, learning this lesson again and again.
|ice bucket bouquet|
Thank you to everyone sending good thoughts and well wishes across the airwaves, as well as those who came to the hospital (to see me green-tinged with radioactive dye and wearing a glowing heart-rate sensor on my index finger that looked like ET) or sent cards, meals, chocolate, or flowers. I am humbled by the love and care of those around me.