Waking Up

This must happen all the time. After surgery, or radiation, or one of the other dramatic things the medical profession does to us (often for very good reason) there is a period of recovery that includes a lot of discomfort, sleeplessness, disorientation and, well, drugs. It all becomes a muddle, until at some point - a point I reached last weekend - you say, enough. And you quit all the meds.

What happens next probably varies all over the place. In my case it didn't go too well at first and I grabbed for the anti-anxiety pills one of the many docs I have come to know had prescribed. But now I'm past that, and remarkably enough, tonight, on the heels of a really disastrous loss by the Cardinals to the Dodgers, I think I'm waking up.

Doesn't mean I feel like running a marathon or eating a cheeseburger. Still tired. But I'm getting to a level of clarity - and recognition that it's once again an interesting thing to be a man, husband, father, partner in a law firm, with a lot of people and things and events I'm responsible for.