The Five Things We Cannot Change

1. Everything changes and ends.
2. Things do not always go according to plan.
3. Life is not always fair.
4. Pain is a part of life.
5. People are not loving and loyal all the time.

Thank god for Buddhism and its insights. It's been a trying week, and lord knows I've needed them.

My surgery finally happened and was successful, as they say, meaning they did what they set out to do and it all went well and without complications. It was last Wednesday at 7am and was over at 9am. I started coming to around noon, and around 3pm they had finally figured out which anti-nausea medication to give me. I remember being told in England that today's anesthesia doesn't make you nauseous anymore so not sure what happened there. Maybe I'm just sensitive. Anyway, I was bandaged up and discharged at 5pm, exactly 12h after we got there. So far so good.

What I wasn't prepared for was what followed, the sucky, lonely recovery time at home. Ritesh was very busy. He continued going to work during the day and visiting his dad during the evening. The pops is doing well, btw, but the better he gets the more company he wants, so they have him covered around the clock. Ritesh's brother is there from morning to early afternoon, the mom from afternoon to early evening, and Ritesh from early evening to midnight. Ritesh did spend the surgery day with me at the hospital but starting the day after he went back to his usual routine and I found myself alone at home, loaded up on painkillers, having a hard time thinking straight and focusing on that Indian novel I was trying to read, let alone moving around. Same on Friday, day 2 after surgery. My parents called on Friday and wanted to thank Ritesh for taking such good care of me, assuming of course he had taken time off work and visiting the Dad. I didn't have the heart to tell them I was alone, so I lied and said Ritesh was just out grocery shopping. He did do some grocery shopping on Saturday, after catching up on some sleep until 2pm (poor guy is exhausted) and before heading back south to visit the pops. It doesn't help that the mom calls to ask when he's coming to the hospital as soon as he's in the door. Honest to god, I've come to resent the sound of his phone ringing. Can't they let the guy have some peace, and let him take care of his wife? He did also cook me dinner twice this week, and took me out for Chinese food around the corner once, which was nice. The rest of the time I've been eating leftovers and lots of fruits. Not so bad I guess. I've lost seven pounds so far, since the beginning of my bronchitis.

Now I'm not one of those people who can't stand to be alone and always need someone around. Quite the contrary, I really enjoy having time alone to re-group and think and read and just putter around the house and do my thing. But as I discovered, that is quite different from being in isolation 22h out of the day after surgery when you're fragile and in pain (did I mention that Ritesh has been sleeping on the futon in the back for three weeks so as not to catch my bronchitis?) I did try to keep myself busy, speaking to friends and family on the phone, reading a couple of books and watching a couple of movies and generally doing things I shouldn't be doing like making my bed, loading and emptying the dish washer, driving myself to the doctor because one of the sutures is bulging and hurting so much more than the other, and doing some grocery shopping myself. But really, I've come to my limits. I've learned that when you've had surgery, you need someone there with you to take care of you, and not in some half-assed way. You can't really do this on your own. Looking back on it now, I think it would have been smarter if I had had the surgery in London after all. My heart aches just thinking about it. Delia is at home anyway, she cooks food anyway, and she and the kids would have been great, spirited company. It would have been a very different experience. As it is, things have gotten so bad that I'm actually missing work and can't wait to go back next Friday. And that I'm seeking refuge in the time-honored tenets of Buddhism. The five realities above couldn't be more appropriate, and I find them really helpful when resentment rears its ugly head.

Ritesh is now home sick himself, not with my bronchitis, mind you, but with some cold that he caught at work or at the hospital. How ironic. Anyway, I'll go cut up some fruit for breakfast.

One week down, 9 more days to go.