Number 165

 The Hospital  Chronicles (Part III)

"Angle Man"

When going from point A to point B, I want to take the most direct route. I hate taking the extra time going somewhere by taking the more roundabout way. Same thing with projects, home or otherwise. How can I (or we), get to the end result in the fewest steps? It's not about 'cutting corners' and doing an inferior job, but instead completing the task in the most streamlined fashion possible. I also hate just sitting around doing nothing, especially when there's work to be done. Now to be sure, I am often a championship procrastinator, but if I'm avoiding a task, there's usually some other psychological motivator at work that is keeping me from the task at hand - which is a topic for another day. My obsessive searching for the quickest, most direct path forward led to Rebecca giving me the nickname of "Angle Man."

As I write, I am engaged in a great healing, testing whether any person so engaged can long endure. By this I mean to ask (with curiosity and not melodrama), "Will I survive my own recovery from major surgery?" Let me explain. I've had a few setbacks in the three weeks since my operation. This is despite the fact that I have done a good job following the directions given to me by the health care professionals looking after me. It's frustrating for sure, but that's fine. Sh*t happens, and all that kind of stuff. The best thing for me to do is to continue following the directions I'm given.

But therein lies the rub. The "Angle Man" part of me is firmly engaged in this process. Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it! (Because that's the most direct path to a full recovery, ya dig?) However, after a follow up appointment yesterday, I was told the best thing for me to do is "nothing." I was specifically told to limit physical activity, so as to give my body the best chance to heal properly. "Angle Man" do nothing? The thought is almost heretical. The truth is, I'm a horrible patient, because I'm always pushing myself too hard to 'assist' the people working on me. It brings to mind the expression: "Sometimes the best help is no help." Unfortunately, I'm only good at typing the expression and not following its principle.

I need to lay low for a bit. Read a book, maybe watch some Netflix. I know it sounds idyllic, but when I look around me, and see everyone else working hard (especially my partner), it makes me a little bit nuts. When I look around me and realize we've had to hire someone to mow our lawn, or walk our dogs because I can't do those things right now, it makes me a little bit crazy. When I have to contact a church member and beg for a few more meals because I shouldn't be up and about in the kitchen making dinner, it makes me weep in frustration. Suddenly books and Netflix seems more like a punishment than a reward.

If you need me over the next few months, I'll be the one huddled over in the corner doing nothing but counting the seconds until I can finally reclaim my body - whenever that might be.

This is the final posting in "the Hospital Chronicles" series of posts.