It feels simultaneously like a lifetime and like a blink since I woke up to the sound of my wife writhing in pain, setting off the worst three days of the nearly fifteen thousand I’ve experienced so far. Seven days ago, at this exact moment, I was sitting in the ER with Anne, wondering what the hell was going on with her. Little did we know that she was about to get a misdiagnosis that would cost her an organ.
I keep catching myself holding my breath, worrying about her, even though I don’t need to worry like I did. Anne is recovering. She’s able to walk — albeit very slowly — with me when I take one of our dogs around the block. She’s still tired a lot of the time, and we’re going to see if the OB/GYN who did her surgery can help us get to the bottom of that. Maybe it’s just post-surgical fatigue (which is my Thompson Twins cover band) or maybe it’s something more, but it’s one of the things that makes me worry a little bit.
But we’re getting back to something like boring and normal, and I’ve never been as content to be bored as I am right now.
I’ve been recording an audiobook during the days this week, so I also feel fatigued, but it’s the kind of fatigue that feels earned, rather than imposed. It’s a lot of different characters, and it’s a lot of words, but it’s really fun, escapist fiction. I’m enjoying the process more than I thought I’d be able to, and I am on a pace to finish Monday. I can’t say anything else about it, but you’re welcome to speculate, if that’s amusing for you.
