Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
Saturday before Monday
There is an extraordinarily beautiful pistachio chocolate torte in a box in our kitchen.
The torte was lovingly constructed by a colleague of my husband’s, well, mine, too, who casually announced her hobby was baking French pastries in a group meeting where the convener asked each of us to tell us something fun about ourselves.
I reported this little fact to my husband who then, as he often does, ran with it, straight to his phone to order up a French pastry for tonight’s dinner, it being the Saturday night before my second cochlear implant surgery Monday morning. Our colleague, of course, because she is notoriously kind-hearted, happily agreed.
So, the colleague and her husband brought the torte over to our house this morning very early and we sat in our living room and talked about our dogs. During the conversation, Herc the cat came padding down the stairs and sat on the piano bench, not wanting all the attention to go to the dogs when it is he, after all, who maintains order in the place.
They left after a while to volunteer in a community meal program, something they have been doing for a long time, and we considered how much fun it was to talk to new people in a way that didn’t involve business but just kindness and stories and well wishes.
There is a very large chicken roasting as we speak. It is part of the surgery send-off, I guess, though what is for dinner tomorrow night is a question. Maybe soup from the leftover chicken. That would be fine.
The pistachio and chocolate torte and the chicken roasting have not kept me from wringing my hands about Monday. I admit to being nervous, not afraid, but nervous. Or anxious, which lately has become a synonym for nervous. “I am a pile of nerves.”
I told this to the young man who cuts my hair. “I am a pile of nerves.”
“But it’s so exciting! Think about how you’ll be able to hear!”
He said this while he swept the floor of big clumps of my hair, and I love him for it. Him and the pistachio chocolate torte and the roast chicken and the colleague who is now a friend and my husband.
11 Comments on “Saturday before Monday”
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Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
Good luck with everything!
How exciting, but I understand your nerves. You’ll do great and you’ll be in my thoughts.
Thanks dearmaizie – I appreciate it
all positives, best to you on this next step in your wellness journey
Thanks, Beth
Best of luck, Jan. And we need a review of the torte and photo of it after it is cut. It sounds incredible!!!
It was. I’ll take a picture before it’s all gone. 🙂
If I lived closer I would invite myself over and perhaps even have 2nds on the torte 🙂
I tried to respond to this yesterday and I don’t think it got through. Garry can now hear better than he has ever heard in his entire 81 years. Post surgery were two big problems: (1) it took much longer for the anesthesia to wear off — and (2) he found the month after surgery when he could hear so little seriously depressing. It filled him with fear that the surgery might not work or might not work well enough.
As it turned out, it worked brilliantly. Unlike round 1 where he took him months to really hear with that implant, this time it took minutes not weeks. In less than half an hour, he was hearing clearly using both ears. May your have equally good luck and try not to get depressed. The anesthesia tends to produce depression after any surgery so don’t let it get to you. Or try not to, anyway.
Really, best of luck. It really IS worth it.
Thanks, Marilyn
Good luck to you Jan on your surgery. I will be thinking about you and sending you hugs and good wishes for a speedy recovery and for better hearing. Eve