pre-op

Wondering as I sit here this rainy afternoon - why do I blog, why do I take the time to do something time-consuming that pays nothing and has no visible rewards? Well - I can't help it, is the answer. I have been a storyteller and a writer all my life, so this is the latest incarnation of obsessive lifelong chronicling. I have spent countless hours writing diaries and letters, and blogging is writing a diary and a letter at the same time. Others seem to be able to turn their blogs into a business, becoming famous with millions of followers, selling the rights to Hollywood, or at least getting on Huffington Post. Whereas my obscure blog serves to keep my friends, and some unknown others - HELLO YOU ALL - up to date with what's going on in my corner. Is that enough?

Well, it'll have to be for now. My son and I were joking the other night about the word 'monetize.' How to monetize this writing? I don't know, and unfortunately for my bottom line, I don't care.

So, what's going on in my corner? It's the most miserable spring in memory in Toronto - cold, dark and pouring again today. I have the heat on, for God's sake, and it's June. I had to get my winter bathrobe back out this morning, and put on many layers before going out. It's June. Somebody alert the powers-that-be, would you? They seem to think it's early April.

I went in my layers to St. Mike's today, for "pre-op" before my parathyroid operation in two weeks. What an efficient medical machine. Enter, fill out the forms - which is easy for me, it's all about what medication and diseases and allergies you have or have had, so I just tick "no" all the way down. Then to a little cubicle, where a parade of people checked me out - a nice woman to go over all the forms and tell me what would be needed when I come back - "You're on NO medication?" she kept asking. "Even Advil, aspirin, no?"; then another nice woman to take 3 vials of dark blood, a doctor to tick off boxes, someone else to do an ECG of my beautiful steady heartbeat, and finally smiling Juliet to tell me I could go home. Get me out of here, was my thought. My mother spent a great deal of time in hospitals and felt safe there; she had ECG's for breakfast. For me, deeply healthy person that I am - touching wood wood wood - I want to escape as quickly as possible to air, light, and the busy bustling noisy germ-ridden world.

At my meditation group this morning, we talked about the marvel of what we are doing together - a bunch of middle-aged or elderly women sitting in a circle with their eyes closed, learning to relax their bodies and their minds, to breathe and be present, to leave anxiety and bad old habits behind. Life is so short. I focus on family, friends and health. And, occasionally, on the weather. And, when I blog, on entertaining you.