Dunkirk NY – I was dreading going to sleep last night because I imagined I’d do nothing but get up and pee every 45 minutes or so. Thankfully this wasn’t the case. I got up twice, which is not terribly unusual under normal circumstances, and at 6:30 this morning I could have just gotten out of bed, but instead I got up to pee and came back to bed for another 45 minutes. When I got up at 7:15, my wife got up as well and got the ice machine on me, made breakfast (coffee, a cinnamon raisin English muffin with peanut butter, and a strawberry yogurt), and went back to bed (she is decidedly not a morning person).
So here I sit with another day on my hands. It’s an overcast day, as is typical this time of year, but it’s unusually cold. From what I gather from the weather apps and stations, we are running maybe 25 degrees below what is average for this time of year. 2-5″ of snow is forecast for Monday, which would be the first significant, “shovelable” snow this season. I’ve got my snowblower out and ready, but of course won’t be able to remove the snow.
Autumn always brings with it thoughts of mortality. The trees looked spectacular this season, and I was fortunate to get out enough before the operation to see them in all their splendor. When I was with my mother a few weeks ago, the leaves in Massachusetts were about at their peak, and there were a few really nice, bright sunny days. I made sure to have my Mom notice the trees, which she admired, but she does so now with little comment other than to agree how nice they look. Despite their beauty, however, I find I can’t escape the reality that the leaves are actually dying. The whole autumnal show seems to be one of a last blaze of glory before their inevitable demise.
Recovering from this small operation, I get the same sense about myself and where I am in life. I have wanted to get this knee fixed so that I can indulge in one last colorful fantasy of some sort or another. Medical procedures always bring you face-to-face with your own mortality, and I am constantly amazed at how far medical science can stretch us out. This knee is a minor issue, but when I add it to what’s happening to my teeth (getting pulled out) and my eyes (pigmentary glaucoma), I get small little nudges that time is short. It’s like seeing those first gold or red leaves appear on a tree that’s still mostly green in late September. The world of nature still appears alive, but those first turning leaves let you know winter is near at hand.
When I am back on my feet, the leaves will all be gone, and the trees will be standing bare in the woods. I will be happy, though, to take on the challenge of this winter with repaired knees, given another chance to face down, if just for the moment, my own mortality. -twl