I have survived an arthroplasty. And by “survived, ” I mean I accompanied my husband to his total knee replacement surgery.
I am notgood with medical stuff. I get “white coat anxiety.” So, I think I handled things pretty well. He is back home and resting comfortably.
The only thing I messed up was hanging up on the surgeon (twice!) when he called to tell me everything had gone well. I couldn’t seem to answer my own phone correctly.
Also, I ran over a curb when driving up to the area where the nurse rolled him out in a wheelchair, but my tires seem fine. (Phew, can you imagine if I got a flat on the way home?)
Oh, and I had to plug my ears with my fingers and look out the window when the physical therapist described to my husband exactly what the “madman with the drill and the saw” does during a total knee arthroplasty.
I will be having a drink at 5pm. Or maybe an Oxycodone (kidding)
I think a lot of people in the Northeast (including me!) checked off “See the Northern Lights” from their buckets lists last night. This was especially rewarding for those of us who missed seeing them in May. Who knew our once-in-a-lifetime chance would come twice in one year?
The Northern Lights from my very own neighborhood last night around 7:15pm. I was on my way to choir practice and happened to look up.
This feels like a lot of things.
Remembrance
The lights and colors in the sky last night reminded me of my close friend from college, Carla, who died in 2022. She had brain cancer. She really wanted to see the Northern Lights before she died, but was too sick to travel, so her friends and family found a way to project them onto the ceiling in her bedroom in Santa Fe. It was beautiful.
A Sign
I know I’m not alone in feeling a lot of anxiety about the state of the country and the way it feels like we’re never going to go back to “normal” — no matter who wins the election. I’ve never in my life been afraid of a US election, but I’m afraid of this one.
Similarly, I never once saw the Northern Lights as a kid growing up in Massachusetts, but this year, many New Englanders saw them twice! A little girl standing near me last night said, “this is God.” Maybe so. Or maybe it’s a sign of transition to a new era—an era where completely new things happen.
Unknown new things are scary and I have a strong urge to “circle the wagons” and try to protect the ones I love. (I think to myself, “please stay in Massachusetts where you’ll maybe be a bit safer from gun violence, flooding, dangerous reproductive care, crappy public schools, etc.)
But I know that’s not really possible.
My new granddaughter will hopefully live into the next century. She will live out most of her life in this new era, whatever it may be. I want her to feel free, adventurous, and safe to explore the world beyond her home state.
Living in the transitional time
An activist friend of mine left for New Zealand yesterday. She’s staying until the end of the month. She said she just needed to get out of the country for these last few weeks before the election. I can relate. In some ways, it’s all just too much.
Maybe seeing the aurora borealis is the reminder some of us needed to center ourselves and live in the moment. Humans have been around a long time and have accomplished many great things and many terrible things. Even though it sometimes feels like end times are upon us, there’s a decent chance that something great is just around the corner too.
I think the difficult word in this prompt is “secret.” I have a couple of skills that I like to brag about and/or show off, with baton twirling being the most impressive. I can also sing a very high note, when called for. For example, my choir was asked to perform “Bohemian Rhapsody” at a memorial service last year and someone had to sing that very high note (you know the one). It’s a high B-flat. Welp, I fucking nailed it. (And yes, there is a video, but the fact that it was a funeral prevents me from posting it.)
So clearly, modesty is not keeping me from sharing any other exciting skills with the world. If I could choose a new skill to secretly have, it’d probably be clairvoyance. Sometimes, I’d like to know what’s going to happen ahead of time so I wouldn’t worry so much.
If you had a freeway billboard, what would it say?
If you’ve ever downloaded the “Calm” app to help deal with anxiety or insomnia or tinnitus (or all three, like me) you know that every time you open it, the words “take a deep breath” appear in white letters on a soothing purplish blue screen. It’s one of the best things about the app. Before you even start using it, it puts you in a better frame of mind.
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