I’m (finally) sipping coffee. Never had a walk this morning. Woke up in pain, though that’s neither different nor relevant to the moment, or this cup of coffee. It’s fairly late in the morning, so I’m having it with a little (coconut) milk and a bit of sweetness (vanilla syrup). It’s hot. It’s… coffee. It’s fine. Today is “the day”, and my Traveling Partner is in surgery. I’m in the waiting room… waiting. The Anxious Adventurer waits with me. We’re neither of us particularly stressed, both hopeful.
… It’ll be good to “have my partner back”, in the sense that the pain he has had to endure over time has been much for all of us. Worst for him, obviously, but terrible to helplessly witness, and hard on his relationships, generally. Hard on him, too. It has diminished and limited him, and shrunk his world to the size of his pain. I’m eager to see him once again doing the things he loves with ease. I’m eager to hear him laugh again and feel his strong arms around me.
…So I wait. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I drink coffee and remind myself to take my medication. I give some small amount of thought to my vertigo, which has begun flaring up more frequently, in response to less obvious things. I think about the occipital neuralgia that “lights my face on fire” for hours or days. I think about the shooting pain down the back of my right leg this morning that wasn’t there yesterday. Shit. I guess I need to start putting more attention on this fragile vessel. I don’t “feel old”… I resent these possibly aging related complaints, often with real ferocity. I use my resentment and my anger to push past the pain, to reject its power over me. I use my feelings to walk one more mile, and then to walk another. I’ve come too far to give up easily.
… This hospital has a pleasant waiting room (except for the uncomfortable chairs)…
I sit with my thoughts. I breathe. I shift in my chair trying to find more comfort before realizing again that the pain is mine, it’s not the chair. I write. I reflect. I wait. I’m good at waiting.
The Anxious Adventurer goes on a wee walkabout, exploring the carefully planned curated spaces of the hospital to pass the time. I’m fine with just waiting, not because I lack restless energy or curiosity, I just want to wait, patient and present, my thoughts with my partner. It’s certainly a place worth exploring, though. I enjoy the quiet and the hushed conversations, and the art.
… It’s a shame there’s so little public art…
Cloudy day. Waiting. It’s fine; soon enough we begin again.
Evening Light 