The routine of illness

Sunday slipped by unnoticed as the four-month anniversary of my surgery, and this is our (mostly by me, but some by Janice or Ellen) 144th blog entry.

Can such things ever become routine? I never would have believed it over the last spring and summer, but sometimes it seems like it is.

There is life without work, golf, long bike rides, hiking and kayak trips. There is life even when one is perpetually tired.

There is life, of course, mainly because of other people - loved ones especially and friends who have not flagged in their attentions even if sometimes the vibrant and involved person they used to know isn't there in quite the same way any more. I've gotten to the point where a kind word, spoken, written or e-mailed, can make my day. And of the scores of medical people I have had contact with over this period, most have been kind and compassionate.

There is life because of unexpected joy in books, adult classes, puzzles and games and other things not appreciated in the same way before. There is still joy in keeping up with my favorite teams and the latest Capitol foibles as well as the rest of the news. It's harder than ever for me to figure out how so many people get along without newspapers.

And who's have thunk that a Luddite like me would get such satisfaction keeping in touch with so many people electronically?

Evenings, when most people are supposedly relaxing and winding down in front of the TV or with their noses in books, are my favorite times, because that is what I do so I feel the most normal.

I would feel especially good in the evenings this time of year watching the Phillies win a few games.