It's 1963 Again

Even though I'm 62, I feel 16 again. No, I didn't rediscover youthful vigor or even a full head of hair. But I feel one very powerful urge that I first experienced as a teen. I want to drive.

In the 17 days since the operation, I have been ferried about by Emily, Janice and Ellen. It's a dependent feeling that I'm eager to shed. So yesterday when we drove about 12 miles to a restaurant for dinner I decided to get behind the wheel again.

My doc had warned us that I might need to wait as long as four weeks after the operation to drive. But I figured I've been off pain medications for almost a week and my head is fairly clear, so I saw no reason not to do it.

The trip was uneventful and I did enjoy the feeling of control as I made basic decisions like how fast to go and when to turn. It made me feel less like a patient and more like a person.

One of the best parts was as the driver I got to control the radio and so I could blast my 50's satellite station. We were rewarded by hearing Danny and the Junior's "At the Hop."

Doesn't get much better than that.

Next up: maybe a solo. I need to get a haircut next week before all my hair falls out when I start chemo or maybe I'll think of some other excuse to go out by myself.