Ian & Olivia

One of my favorite author's died this month. I really didn't think of Ian Falconer as one of my favorite authors until I saw the notice that he passed away. Ian was the author of children's series Olivia about a feisty, energetic, and precocious little pig.

The book was originally written as a gift for his niece, but a publisher saw it and the rest is history. The book nails the paradox of parenting preschoolers, who can be brilliant and beautiful and maddening and messy, all at the same moment. Olivia sings from a book of "40 Very Loud Songs" while dreaming she is Maria Callas. She paints her room in the style of Jackson Pollock. She dances like a ballerina in a Degas painting.

"I'm not sleepy," says Olivia at nap time while jumping on her bed. Her mother is exhausted.

My friend Michelle gave Claire-Adele a copy of Olivia and a stuffed Olivia pig for her third second or third birthday. I cried when I read it. I would say the book reminded me of Claire-Adele--which it did, but retrospect, the book touched an emotional nerve of the mayhem and magic of being a child.

Wordle and Rest

When I play Wordle, I treat it like it dictates my emotional, spiritual and intellectual state for the day. If I crush the word in two guesses, I feel like I am aligned with the gods and connected to the powers of the universe. When I guess the word in five or six tries, I feel like I am a chump, that my mental acuity isn't sharp, that I've lost the flow for the day, all from a ridiculous game on the internet. It is driving me nuts.

Why do I beat myself over a game? Why do I let it hold power and sway over me when it shouldn't?

I am also using Wordle to predict how I am recovering from my surgery, like it is tea leaves or a fortune cookie or a magic eight ball or the groundhog looking for its shadow. If I get the Wordle in three guesses or less, I am on a speedy path to recovery. If I sink it in five or six guesses, I feel like a slug and I'll never get better. If I get it in four guesses? "Try again later."

It is not as if Wordle has that kind of power over my life, but is it a barometer of my inner peace? My calmness? Clarity? When I am relaxed, I do play better, but I am still letting something external dictate how I feel about my inner peace. I mean, I have no control over the words they pick. Sometimes they sing to me, sometimes they don't. Spoiler: Today's answer was guano, like I use that word every day, although my friend said she feels batshit crazy all the time.

Last week, I was feeling really tired, both mentally and physically. I tried caffeine to perk me up. I tried walking to perk me up. I tried eating to perk me up. I tried fasting to slip into ketosis to perk me up. I tried all of my tried and true strategies to increase my energy.

Nothing worked.

I talked to a friend about this. Her advice: "Why don't you just rest? You had major surgery. You can't just fix this. Your body is telling you to rest."

Old Lady Tired & Richard Rohr

The big theme of my recovery so far is that I am tired. I don't have pain or discomfort, but I have low energy. Last night, I slept ten hours. Monday, I was so tired there was no amount of caffeine that could have kept me awake.

In a way, I suppose this is what depression feels like -- wanting to sleep a lot, not wanting to go out and do things, being a homebody. If I didn't know I had abdominal surgery two weeks ago, I would have guessed I was depressed. I don't think I am, or at least I hope I'm not. I know this is a hard and slow time as my body recovers. I feel like my insides are like a sea urchin who has been prodded -- they have all collapsed inside of each other, hiding and hibernating. I wish someone would have told me that the main effect would be fatigue. I'm also not feeling like the brightest bulb on the planet. There are several administrative tasks regarding my divorce that I need to wrap up, but I don't have the energy. I have the time, but not the drive. 

I was talking to a friend who had her gall bladder removed thirty some years ago, before laparoscopic surgery was invented. She spent months in pain recovering from her abdominal surgery. I am grateful that after two weeks the worst I feel is sluggish.

I imagine this is what it feels like to be very old or stoned all of the time. I really don't want to do a whole lot. My good friend Eleanor Owen lived to be 101, and she had lots of energy. She wasn't running 5K races or paddle boarding, but she was intellectually and spiritually alert.

I am also grateful that today is a beautiful day. I am sitting in the courtyard in the sun, writing and listening to the birds.

In the meantime, I've been listening to Richard Rohr, the Franciscan priest who wrote Breathing Under Water. Rohr's book relates Twelve Step programs to the bible and it is fascinating. This week, I've been listening to one of his old speeches on repeat. I love his concept of the ego and the false self versus the true self. We all have an ego, and the ego isn't necessarily bad. The ego causes problems when that is all we live for: praise, success, control, accomplishments, fame, money, fancy clothes, etc.. I like my shoe collection, but I am not who I am because of it. I am grateful for my surgeon, who removed my cyst, and I appreciate all of her training and education. Nevertheless, I hope when she goes home, she can leave her title and accomplishments at the door, and be at peace. 

Rohr believes that the destabilization of the ego is what causes emotional and spiritual suffering. This is different than pain. There is an old expression that pain is part of life, but suffering is optional.

What I am dealing with right now is a pain. I wish I was more mobile and active and had more energy, but I don't. Instead, I am grateful for my short-disability where I can keep my job. I am grateful for laparoscopic surgery. I am grateful for the sunshine and birds. I am grateful for the books I am reading and the crafts I am making. I am grateful for my friends who have brought me meals and taken me out for coffee.

New-To-Me Coffeeshops and My New Imaginary Boyfriend

I haven't been getting out much. This recovery from my surgery reminds me a lot of the early days of the pandemic where I am sitting at home waiting for time to pass, and it is kind of freaky. I am not in any pain or discomfort, but boy am I tired. I am not fully housebound, but I don't have a ton of energy. I mostly walk around my neighborhood, which is nice because I live near Pike Place Market. In the past two weeks, I've been to three new-to-me coffeeshops that are within a few blocks of my condo. As a friend said, I am lucky to live near such abundance.

Here are the three new-to-me places:

The Moore Coffee Shop on Second Ave -- Think pink. The place is painted pink and gold. There are even two Moore coffee shops--the main one and spin off. The main one is cute and cozy.

Freya on Western -- This Scandinavian place is next to my craft store, Ugly Baby. When the sales clerk was out, my friend and I stopped by Freya for coffee. Wow. The pastries here are to die for. My friend and I shared a churro cruffin which doesn't sound Scandinavian at all but is omg so delicious. Think a croissant muffin with a creamy center and covered in cinnamon. Freya is a sister to Haden Coffee. Pike Place Market doesn't allow chains--which is a good call--so stores that want to have more than one location give their shop in the market a different name. Ta da! Everyone is happy. There is one major exception: The original Starbucks is in the Market and they didn't need to change their name.

Last but not least is Armistice on First, the place where Tech Bros go to hit on the barista. Actually, it is a nice place, very clean. The barista is nice to everyone, not just the Tech Bros. The Tech Bro that was hitting on the barista was annoyed that the barista and I got wrapped up in a conversation about the Spotify playlist she was listening to and the streaming series Bridgerton. What are you going to do?

In addition to exploring my neighborhood, I have a new imaginary boyfriend -- Brett Goldstein who plays Roy Kent on Ted Lasso. I have tickets to see his stand-up comedy in a few weeks at the Moore Theatre, not to be confused with the Moore Coffee Shop, which is adjacent. Brett also writes for Shrinking, a new show on Apple tv with Jason Segal and Harrison Ford. I just watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall starring Jason Segal and Kristen Bell, which is actually entertaining. I think it is from 2007, the era when I had two small kids and rarely got out. I don't know -- maybe I should dump Brett for Jason? Hmmm. I'll need to think on that. Brett swears more than I do, which is an impressive feat. 

Anyway, I'm looking forward to rejoining humanity one of these days.

Craft Studio v Books

When I was recovering from my ACL repair surgery several years ago, I read a lot. 

Like, three or four books a week. One book I read in less than twenty-four hours.

Was it bliss, having nothing else to do but read? 

Meh.

It was nice, but hard to say.

In this recovery, I've almost sworn off books. I didn't want to read. Instead, I've focused on creating. I turned my home office into a craft studio where I make adorable little animals and whatnot.

Ta da!

This week, I got desperate and opened a book. The first three chapters were brilliant, simply riveting.

Then, I got to the flashback of the main character's mother's death, right before he gets his very damaged foot amputated.

Yeah.

Not exactly a beach read. Now I remember why I swore off books during my recovery. 

Part of me wants to go back to reading, as I imagine I've already hit the bleakest and most depressing part less than halfway through the book. The rest of the story has to be up from that, right? Could it get worse?

Eventually, I'll let you know. In the meantime, back to sewing...

Second & Settled

My friends who have seen me after the surgery tell me I look "fantastic." Not good, not great, not healthy, hearty and hale. 

Fantastic.

So why do I look so good? Because this cyst I had removed was about the size of a fifteen week fetus. Basically, I was walking around with a belly pooch that made me look like I was in my second trimester. One friend who saw me the week before my surgery and days after said my stomach definitely looked flatter. And this was with post-surgery swelling.

Sure, I have my own little belly flab that's there both before and after the surgery. Before that belly flab sat above the cyst, now that flab is trying to move south, and its migration is not comfortable. (I had thought about asking the gynecologist to remove some flab while she was operating, but that might not have been good form. Plus, she might have removed some of the fat unevenly, and I might have been lumpy and lopsided.)

The surgery I had isn't so common that the healing and recovery patterns are dialed in. With my ACL surgery, they could predict how I would be doing day-to-day. I've never had a c-section, but those surgeries are so common that the recovery is well documented.

Removing a 9.5 cm cyst? Meh. Give it four to six weeks to feel better.

This weekend, I was feeling good and I stopped taking Tylenol and ibuprofen. Yesterday, I felt a little bit sore in my belly. Today, I called the nurse. 

"You can expect to be up-and-down with this. You'll have good days and bad," she said. "Just listen to your body."

Fini! and Forty Days

I remember this odd habit of my mother's when I was a kid. I would be working on a craft -- like paint-by-numbers or Shrinky-Dinks -- and she would say, "Don't finish it! Save it so you will have something to do for later." 

She might have meant, "don't rush through it," or "take your time," but I was a perfectionist little kid who was painfully careful and afraid of making mistakes. I was not going to rush.

The funny thing about saving things for later is that often later never comes. My mom died, and she left behind a massive collection of nice soap, including Crabtree & Evelyn's Seashell Soap, which was a my favorite soap ever. (I don't know when it was discontinued, but I now am using the last little bit of what I snagged from my dad's house.) My mom would buy nice things, and then not use them because she wanted to save them, which is so sad because she never did use them.

As I have mentioned in my previous blog post, I have been stocking up on craft projects during my surgery recovery so I have something to do. Even this weekend, I went out and bought more crafts. My stash is impressive. (See my new local favorite craft store in Pike Place Market, Ugly Baby.) 

So, am I buying so many crafts that I will "always have some to do later?" Or, will I end up, as I did as a child, will dozens of craft projects started but never finished?

I am fighting the tide and I am trying to finish what I am starting, but the problem is I am always starting something new. I never want to be caught without a project in process. The blank slate might freak me out, but that is a problem I'll need to address in the future, not now. Now I need to get through the boring part of this recovery from surgery.

In the meantime, I finished a project today! Woohoo! Check out this little lion! Isn't she cute?

She has a bag for shopping, which she needs because she doesn't have any shoes. Hello, Nordstrom Rack! Or Julia's Footwear. Or Birdies. Or Likelihood.

Anyhow, I finished this little cutie pie.

Which brings me to Theme 2 of today's blog post -- forty days. My doctor tells me it will take four to six weeks to recover from my recent abdominal surgery, and I have the time off from work. My therapist thinks I will get bored and I will go back to work early. Damn it, I hope he's using reverse psychology on me, because right now I want to dig my heels in and say to boredom "Bring it on! I can handle it!" It is Lent right now, just before Easter. I can spend forty days in the desert, metaphorically, sitting in my apartment doing crafts. Who knows where this will take me? There was an 85 year old lady in Ireland who knits every day. She learned when she was seven years old and now she knit sweaters for the cast in The Banshees of Inisherin. Maybe one day my embroidery will be featured in a Jane Austen movie!

I need crafts because I get suicidal watching television during the day. I could avoid this problem by watching television until 4 a.m., and then sleeping until noon, if I need that much distraction to stave of the doldrums. 

Ha. Just kidding. It is almost 9:00 p.m. and I am sleepy. There is no way I am making it until 4:00 a.m.

I am not kidding here about daytime tv making me seriously depressed. I can't do it very often. I can watch short YouTube videos, but that is about it. I will make some exceptions. I would stream shows when I was recovering from my ACL. I'd do leg lifts while watching Bletchley Park. 

Speaking of shows, I have found a new one: Shrinking on Apple TV. It is written by the same team who brought us Ted Lasso. Harrison Ford plays a kind but grumpy old fart. Brett Goldstein (aka Roy Kent) is a writer on the show, so every other word is an f-bomb. I love it.

Also, my therapist didn't know that Ted Lasso Season Three starts in two days. Whoop whoop! Maybe I can make an exception to my daytime television rule for Ted. I can binge watch it two or three times before I go back to work.

Tired, Empty & Dull

I am five days out from my surgery, and I am weary.

The first day out, I was high. Everyone in my family called starting at 9:00 a.m. to see how I was doing and it was one continuous conversation. It was lovely, and I felt great, thanks to the power of love and the miracle of opioids. Love lasts but opioids are a false friend, as we all know. I was going to write a blog post "Things I Can Do While I'm High," but I thought the better of it. Nevertheless, I was surprised that I could solve the Cryptogram in the NYT.

I had the good fortune to have friends stay with me during the surgery and for the first few days of recovery. It was nice to have company and someone make me breakfast. 

Today, I am tired. My friend Ellen said it is good that I am tired--it will keep me from overdoing it. The nurse from the clinic said I should not be laying in bed all day, but I should be moving around. I guess they don't want me to get weak muscles or blood clots. Still, I am tired. A friend came over for dinner last night and she asked I was in pain. I am not in pain, or even really discomfort. Instead, I feel like I am walking around with a carton of eggs in my belly that I can't see or feel, but I know I don't want them to break.

At the same time, my belly feels empty. I don't feel the cyst blocking up my southern abdomen. My belly gurgles and sputters at me, happily re-adjusting and filling in the empty space.

And I am dull, emotionally and intellectually. I read the newspaper, but no one is going to give me a quiz on it, and if they did, I'd probably flunk. I listened to a mediation last night and the topic was fractals. I lost the thread. Oy. I am too dull to watch stream movies and shows. I am glad I am not making any big decisions or purchases in the next month. I talked to my manager yesterday, and he asked if I wanted an update on the office. I deftly avoided the topic by talking about my short-term disability program. I didn't want him to realize that my IQ and EQ have both dropped by fifty points since the surgery.

I am planning to bounce back soon, though. One of my friends said anesthesia can linger in your systems for days after major surgery. No wonder I am feeling dull and groggy. 

Nevertheless, I am glad stocked up on crafts before the surgery. I have something simple and fun to keep me busy while I am stuck inside.

More later...

Art & Crafts

The last time I had surgery and went under general anesthesia, I had this fear I was going to die: I could possibly die while unconscious, and then die of boredom during recovery (assuming I survived the operation.)

I thwarted death then, but here I am facing surgery today.

I've known about this surgery for a few weeks, and since then I've been busy getting ready. I was talking to my manager at work, I told him most of the stress has been trying to take care of things to support myself while I live alone. I have a string of friends lined up to help me during and after the surgery, and I am grateful for their support. 

Nevertheless, I have been cleaning my condo like I have OCD for the past three weeks. I mean no disrespect to people who actually suffer from OCD, but I had a small window in what it must be like to want to quote Allie Brosh "clean all the things" all the time. I've become an evangelist for eCloth, which has a collection of microfiber cloths where you can clean without chemicals. (Think no Windex or SoftScrub.) I've washed my interior windows and cleaned the fridge and the inside of the microwave oven. All towels and sheets are clean.

When I was recovering from my torn ACL, I read constantly, mostly novels. I read at least three books a week. I finished one book in less than 24 hours. Now for this surgery, my attention is turned to crafts. I have needlepoint, embroidery and felting projects galore. I have at least a hundred hours of activities. As my friend Linda said when I was purchasing a pillow cover to felt, "This guarantees you a three day recovery." I'll take it.

I have my post-op activities ready to, but surgery is also a good incentive to cross of things on my bucket list. Ever since I've taken art history classes in college, I've wanted to collect art. I am not talking fancy or extravagantly expensive paintings by famous artists, or bidding on things at Sotheby's. I just want nice things to hang on my walls, that mean something to me.

It has been a rough few months, with my mother's death and dying, my dad being hospitalized, my divorce being finalized and my need to for surgery.

So I have bought a few paintings, that are just my own. I didn't need to ask permission to buy them, and I didn't need to collaborate with anyone to see if we should get them. These are things that speak to me, and they are only my decision. Might I get sick of a painting after a bit? Maybe. Then I can change things up.

What I have learned more in the past few months that except for death, nothing is permanent. We may try to keep things as they are, but things change. We evolve. The only thing we can do is be present in the moment.