Chapter 3 (Draft)

 THE WAY BACK DOWN

I knew that there would be a lot of walking when I ultimately decided to accept the invitation to go to England. Now, with anesthesia mask over my face, the surgery bed at my back was feeling softer and the decision to take the trip faded as I went under. 

I had put off this knee surgery for years and it had taken multiple doctor visits, insurance forms and EKGs to finally get it scheduled. I decided to put off the trip for a few months and to get this done. In the meantime, a property manager for the estate was hired at my direction by the attorney for the estate.

It is not so much the going up that hurts in mountain climbing. Years of daily running, lifting heavy objects (remember to bend at the knees), tennis quick starts and stops, football, baseball, basketball, soccer, kickboxing, Downhills and descents after climbs can make a dent, even to a marvel of Nature's making. I emulated miler Sebastian Coe (later to become a Member of Parliament) in my downhill strategy: move your legs fast enough to keep-up with gravity. 

A day later I wasn't moving around a lot at first but I was moving. The visiting nurse who came to check the wound and dressing had to tell me to get my walker when I greeted her at the door ... nerve block! I like it! I personally hold that avoiding the pain medication will ultimately make the recovery faster. That and sleeping at regular intervals for more that a couple of hours at a time. So, I went into automatic pilot mode. I listened to music, books and podcasts on Sonos as I always had and lumbered around waiting for it to get better and eventually it did. Longer and longer walks and less and less pain. I drifted back to the real world.

‘Are you really there?’ 

I try to be. It's not always pleasant to be present. But moving on from the surgery was "a start." The truth was that there had been the promise a "start" for years: week after week, month after month, year after year. Aspiration to do better be better. But, at this point I still felt "disengaged." Later I recognized it as Anhedonia. It is always easier in retrospect, isn't it? Noticing a gradual lack of interest in things, a growing disinterest in feeling pleasure. An "unfeeling," if you will. Well, that had been me for some time. I have known depression, and it wasn’t exactly that. It didn’t have the intensity of depression. It was just a lack. I was just existing. Food was just there to fill me up. Music became more than pattern of noise than a song. I was simply, you know, there.

I mean, sounds sort of empty doesn’t it? To live without seeking, not wonder what is next? What was that I wanted to do? I was mostly just sitting there for a while. Like a bowling ball when the lanes are closed. Waiting for someone to launch it on its intended trajectory.

‘Is something good coming up any time soon?’ And eventually, it wasn’t that hard to think of something. I stumbled back into my planning for a trip to England.  The letter I had received from a solicitor’s office again became my focus and England that obscure object of desire.