The day before Thanksgiving and seven days before surgery. This is the day I am instructed to eliminate blood thinners and all NSAIDs from my daily regimen. Substituting Tylenol for Naproxin is like replacing wine with water; it just isn’t the same no matter how you slice it. I ache all over and I am not through the first day.
I don’t think that I would feel as badly if it weren’t for the fact that I am preparing food for 22 people. Sure they will all bring a dish or two but I prepare the soup, traditionally a squash/apple or squash/pear soup, this year it is squash/apple with honey and it tastes divine. But the backbreaking work of preparing soup for 22 is not made any easier with a pain reliever that is simply not up to the task.
I also cooked two turkeys (one is still in the oven), a pumpkin pie, a braised brussel sprout and cheese dish and chopped liver. I am simply exhausted.
What interests me, however, is not that I am in pain or that I worked hard today. What interest me is the fact that while cooking I felt connected, in the zone, focused on the performance of the task at hand. This is living in this very moment, a practice I am continuing to perfect.
I still have some apprehension about the surgical procedure that I am facing a week from today but I think that is perfectly normal. I don’t think of it often but I would be outright lying if I said it didn’t pop up every once in a while. What I am focusing on: reading, learning something new, a new way of thinking about something is a powerful block. Of course, as the day of surgery comes closer there are any number of things that serve as a constant reminder that the robot is just around the corner. More about that later but for now just think of it as the anticipation of emptying the vessel.
When all is said and done, I remain quite positive at this time. I don’t expect that to change any time soon.