Well, I am out of bed and not in too much pain. I had laproscopic surgery on Tuesday to repair a hernia from my abdominal surgery. Silly me, I thought it would be a piece of cake. I have five holes in my tummy and multiple bruises surrounding those holes. I also have a huge piece of mesh trying to hold my insides in. The swelling has gone down substantially and I actually walked around the block yesterday. I had hoped/planned to go home after surgery on Tuesday. The docs wanted me to go home on Wednesday. I made it home on Thursday. Lots of time to think at first in the fog of pain killers, then amid the fog of pain.
I understand why people give up. Sometime on Tuesday afternoon, I felt so awful, I just wanted to die. Had I not been convinced that it would get better and had someone given me the choice I would have chosen to die, right there and then. Too much pain.
I never quite get it that I am not superwoman. I assume I can breeze through surgery and get up and jog the next day. (Not that I'm a great jogger, but still. . .) This despite the fact that I am only four months past my last chemo. Generally everything I read says it takes six months to get back to normal in terms of energy, stamina, ability to recover and so forth. Oh, I understand and there are times when I realize that there is a difference and that I understand my mortality and weakness, but the superwoman is so ingrained in who I am that it is so hard to let go of. It is an unconscious understanding of who I am.
During this enforced time of rest, I've been reading mysteries. Mostly Elizabeth Peters (Vicky Bliss who I have just begun reading and Amelia Peabody). I came up with a plot for a murder mystery with the protagonist being a female minister. I wrote about four pages. Then last night I realized that the protagonist was simply boring and I wasn't interested in her. Since, of course, she is my alter ego, I began to wonder what that meant about me. Not that I think I'm boring, but the public persona seems to me has to be boring.
I have to work today. I need to put together a sermon for next Sunday. I am fairly sure I know what I am going to preach on--the story of Paul Farmer. Tracy Kidder wrote about him.
I also need to put together my Advent liturgy. I think I'm pretty sure what I'll be using for the basics. My music director assures me she has an advent wreath lighting hymn if she can find it. (I'm not sure I like advent wreaths, but I shouldn't think about that) and I'll reuse last year's communion liturgy, so it's mostly a matter of hymns, etc.
I'll be preaching on Isaiah during Advent. My first sermon is Krispy Kreme Christmas (do I dare use Kristmas?). I've preached on pimento cheese sandwiches, so preaching on Kripsy Kreme doughnuts isn't too bad.