THE DARKNESS WE EXPECT

 6 of 100

15 January

" This is the work of the novel: to notice, knit, remember, record. The novel confers wholeness and unity to a story of division. The novel — it cannot help itself — reconciles."

— Parul Sehgal, Blood Lines, The New Yorker Magazine, January 2 & 9, 2023

I am not having a particularly easy day this morning, although the pain medications are finally starting to kick in and there may well be a nap in my immediate future.

21 January

'Tis time to find myself astride that writing horse again. So many of you have kindly inquired as to the state of my surgery and my general well-being. Let me say at the outset that I am humbled, amazed, and blown-away by your many kindnesses in regards to this. My brother Michael was a nurse-prince while he was here. He saw me through the surgery and getting home, supporting and commenting on my progress. Debee showed up as he was leaving and took great care of me and Janet. She's getting a couple of days off to attend to other things and will be back on Monday. In the meantime, my cousin Christina came over to get Janet out of bed and fed breakfast. I can get around for short stints of cat and Janet feeding, but it is hardest in the morning. 

I had a couple of very bad days of pain, but am doing really well. One of the physical therapists says that she has, in nineteen years, never seen a patient progress more rapidly. I try to limit my pain medication somewhat. I think the oxycodone feeds into my depression and I have been very down. 

I was underneath too many cats and blankets earlier today and straightened my leg in such a way as to have me screaming in pain. Not sure what I did, straighten it too rapidly?. After a few minutes the pain subsided to normal levels. My knee feels a little extra sore right now, but I am due for a pain meds. I see the surgeon on Monday.

The hospital was great. I had the foresight to take my Bluetooth speaker so I lolled in music and pain meds on my overnight. I was able to get into the house without much pain or problem. I only used the walker for a day and am now walking carefully about with nothing or a cane. 

I have been out three or four times, a trip to Trader Joe's, doctor visit, accompanying Debee to take Janet to lunch, and out to dinner last night. I was pretty tired when I got back last night. Today, I have staid in my 'jammies, practicing Duolingo French, finishing my book group book (Someone by Alice McDermott). During my twilight sleep or just cat napping, I listened to Jann Wenner's memoir, Like A Rolling Stone. The audiobook reader was stellar but Wenner is a shallow, egotistical ass. The biography of Wenner that came out a couple of years ago was much more insightful and relevant. (Here's an excerpt.)

And then having Jeff Beck and David Crosby exit in the same week. Hard to process the loss of one of them would be a challenge, but the both of them floors you. Not that that isn't to be expected, but Beck, at least, seemed to live a pretty healthy life. 

The kitties are circling, wanting me to settle down in one bed or place or another. I did take some meds, so I will likely be sleepy soon.

FIRST SNOW

The snow

began here

this morning and all day

continued, its white

rhetoric everywhere

calling us back to why, how,

whence such beauty and what

the meaning; such 

an oracular fever! flowing

past windows, an energy it seemed

would never ebb, never settle

less than lovely! and only now,

deep into the night,

it has finally ended.

The silence 

is immense,

and the heavens still hold

a million candles; nowhere

the familiar things:

stars, the moon,

the darkness we expect

and nightly turn from. Trees

glitter like castles

of ribbons, the broad fields

smolder with light, a 

passing creekbed lies

heaped upon the shining hills;

and though the questions

that have assailed us all day

remain—not a single

answer has been found—

walking out now

into the silence and the light

under the trees,

and through the fields

feels like one.

— Diane Oliver, New and Selected Poems, Beacon Press, Boston, 1992