May 18, 2015
(This is part of a 365 project during my 70th year where I write and illustrate a blog on each day's gift.)
Some days are filled with waiting…waiting for the clock digits to move, waiting for the red light, waiting for the paperwork, waiting for the questions, waiting for the doctor. But today there was no waiting after the anesthesiologist said, “You are going to sleep now.” It was instantaneous and most welcome. It is also scary to know that you are letting go and putting your life in another’s hands. This time, the letting go was easier than not letting go when I considered how much I might have panicked without the nice anesthesiologist right by my side. It also helped having an experienced, skilled doctor to render me polypless.
However, when I had my knee replaced five years ago, I did not let go of consciousness but rather my perception of reality. There was a disconnect in that surreal scene. As I heard the sawing and felt the tugging (but not any pain), I talked with the doctors and nurses about my photo and words project and asked them how they would define themselves in one sentence beginning with I am. Now that is the height of surreal—and an interesting use of time during my wait.
There is comfort in knowing that I can accept waiting, such as the nine months I was pregnant, that I can let go when necessary, like when I jumped out of a plane, and that I can accept an alternate reality like when my knee was replaced. Experience has taught me that waiting often brings good news, feelings of accomplishment or a sense of relief.
Sometimes, too, it is good just to live a slow motion day without worrying about when the red light will change.
My gift today is a slow motion day.
You can find links to my other posts on this project here: