Shortly after determining to set a resolution for the year, a first for me, my life took a decidedly unexpected turn. I truly thought that officially saying goodbye to 2012 would somehow put an end to the trials the year had brought. Instead, I found myself laying on a table and sliding into a CT scanner. Definitely not how I wanted to start my year.
It’s amazing the thoughts that will pass through your mind when the noise of diagnostic machinery drowns out everything but the fear that refuses to be suppressed. Having an overactive imagination doesn’t help. As I lay there on the table, I thought back on all the poor choices I had made and bad habits I had formed throughout my life. Was this going to be the day they all caught up with me? The day I regretted not listening to my mother more? The day I disappointed my children? Imagination in overdrive.
Fortunately, it was just my gallbladder. I say ‘just’ only because it was so much less than my imagination had invented, not to diminish the painful experience. As anyone who has suffered from problems with their gallbladder can attest, it is miserable. But the recommended surgery was something I felt I could live with, and so much easier than dealing with the problems my imagination had created. I could go home to recuperate, have a few days to work on my writing, then be ready to return to work at the same pace I always have.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The surgery went without a hitch thanks to the great doctors and nurses at my hospital. The recovery, however, took longer than I had anticipated. I had originally thought to return to work after the first week, but that didn’t happen. I couldn’t even wear pants that didn’t have an elastic waist band, so I was stuck wearing sweats – not exactly appropriate for the office. At the beginning of the second week, I tried to get some writing done. That didn’t go so well, either. All I can say is I’m so glad I didn’t post any of it. The Vicoden induced haze I was in was definitely more conducive to sleeping, not writing.
Finally, after two weeks, I returned to work. You wouldn’t think sitting at a desk could be so tiring, but it was. My first week back to work, it was all I could do to make it through dinner without my face dropping in my plate. Almost four weeks after my surgery, I am now getting my energy back and able to think past just the basics.
Now, it’s time to get back on track and start writing every week, like I originally planned.