In a little over eight hours from now, I’ll be well-anesthetized and having some much-needed repairs made on my janky knee. I’m pretty sure janky isn’t really a word (unless you’re playing Words With Friends – is anything not a playable word there?), but it’s the most accurate description I can think of for my poor knee. It’s a combination of junky and cranky.
I’ve been feeling pretty janky myself. I had a cold with a lingering hack that knocked me down for the better part of a week. Then I turned 37. Then I woke up one morning with a terrible crick in my neck that wouldn’t allow me to look anyone to the right of me in the eye. With surgery looming ahead, I was feeling old, anxious, janky.
When I get this way the last thing I want to do is share in this space. I know I’m not making anyone’s day better by complaining about my truly minuscule problems. I’d rather leave a gap for a few days or weeks and come back when I’m feeling peppier. While I was brooding over my deteriorating body and entertaining the idea that this surgery could very well be the end for me (paranoid much?), I realized that if I didn’t write again I would go to the grave with Doogie-Doo as my parting words. I’d like to go out on something loftier than bowel movements.
Around the same time, I had a staff meeting at The Container Store that involved a talk about love. Yes, we talk about love at work. It’s wierdly wonderful. We were watching a clip from the annual company meeting where the speaker was talking about the four Greek words for love. There’s eros (passionate love), storge (familial love), philia (love for friends and community), and agape (unconditional love).
It struck me, just days after Christmas and my birthday and a few days before my surgery, how much love I have in my life. All four kinds, present in so many different ways. The love of my husband, who still thinks I’m every bit as beautiful as the day we first met – and tells me so often. The love of my family, who give me something to smile about every single day. The love of a daughter, who stood on a stool and shushed everyone around her so she could read me a special birthday speech she wrote in my honor. The love of a son who smothers me with kisses and truly believes we’ll get married someday. I have the love of friends, who know me so well and surprised me with the best birthday treats: gorgeous cards, beer, homemade tres leches ice cream, coupons for daiquiris, and more. And most importantly, I have the unconditional love of Jesus Christ.
Maybe my knee is janky, but how can the rest of me possibly be anything other than blessed?
(I will gladly report back after surgery to let you all know that I made it through in one piece, without any extra instruments left inside me, or whatever other tales of surgical horror I’ve let my mind linger on lately. I have, however, instructed Mike not to let me blog, tweet, or update Facebook while heavily sedated. I tend to over-share when I’ve had one too many glasses of wine. Lord knows what I’d say on Vicodin.)