Shoulder day

After 120 poor nights (I fell on 11/29/2014) this last one before surgery was the worst. I woke up after short bouts of sleep, sometimes as short as 10 minutes, from the pain in my arm/shoulder. Much of it is what the physical therapist call “deferred’ pain, going up and down my arm and back. I woke up a wreck.

Every time I woke up I was worried that I would accidentally take a sip of water or do something else that would result in a stern nurse saying, on my arrival at the hospital, “sorry, you shouldn’t have done that, we need to reschedule your surgery!” I am both looking forward to the surgery and dreading it, especially the aftermath. I am reminded of what I teach people about change when you want it, there is still a loss involved.

Yesterday at work I cleaned my desk in between 6 hours of meetings and then got on the road. It rained hard and I was in the worst fog I have ever seen here (but familiar from having lived half my life in the Low Lands). It was so bad that I crawled off the exit to Manchester’s Pine Street at a snail’s pace, not able to see more than 20 feet in front of me. That’s when the stripes on the road are to guide you, but most were hardly visible.

Axel had planned to go into Boston to take an evening class on web design but when I told him about the enormous puddles and traffic jams and fog he decided to skip class. He made us carnitas which we ate in front of the fireplace while watching two mysteries in a row. I tried to finish knitting at least one of the finger puppets from the Alice in Wonderland series, found on Etsy. The Wizard of Oz puppet designs were thrown in for good measure. I am curious when I can knit again as these are delightful little projects, assembled from tiny knitted pieces, sometimes as little as 3 stitches and 3 rows (the cherries on the bunny’s hat). You can get a lot done that way. The white bunny with the clock is nearly done and for Alice I am waiting for an order of tiny little skeins of wool in pastel colors.fingerpuppet-rabbit

For desert, something we rarely have, Axel had made a Dame Blanche, to celebrate that the day of surgery was upon us. The recliner was moved to the bedroom and my Audible bookshelf is being filled for long days of snoozing and waking of the less than alert kind. And now I will finish the new Hercule Poirot (the Monogram Murders) written by someone other than Agatha herself, in a style that has kept the old Hercule with us.

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