Ice Packs and Apple Pies

For 5 weeks now I have been the student and pain has been the teacher. The goal? Surrender. Sometimes, when there is no place to turn, when I've taken my pain meds and my knee is increasingly hot and swollen, I raise it on pillows, apply my ice packs and lower my body so my knee is above my heart...and then, just surrender. The pain is here, at this moment, I think. It may not be in moments to come, or it may. Either way, the pain and I are in a process called healing. I imagine the joints arguing with the new titanium parts. My body doesn't want to accept them. Tough, I think, that's the direction we're headed.

I begin to think of the argument going on in my knee and realize that my job, as the recipient of the pain, is to just "be" -- to allow these vying factions the time and space to accept each other (I know, I anthropomorphize it, don't I). Instead, I focus on the grayness of this November day, as gray as gray can be. November always delivers. It creates the perfect atmosphere for being with our loved ones, for hunkering in front of the fire, for raising a glass of cheer or praise. November is the perfect background for celebration and joy, for seeing the bare bones of things, for moving from the exterior to the interior. Some say gloomy. I cherish the gloom. It allows me the space to reignite those forces I will need for winter.

And so, two days from that great American holiday, I will put the butter on the counter to come to room temperature, measure out the flour, peel the apples, prepare the pumpkin filling -- between rests with an ice pack. I will respect the pain and let it flourish and then subside. I will keep on keeping on.

Happy Thanksgiving to each of you.