I don’t know what happened to, or during, that time. The days are gone; and although I have some vague memories of the pain and recovery which I am still enduring, I find myself at a loss to actually recount the days.
As I have felt better I have started going back into my office to work on projects that I had begun before going under the knife. I find I can’t make sense of my notes and many of the projects seem like scrambled eggs I can seem to unscramble. My organized pile of notes and open books seems like a strange mess left by someone else. I try to think back, reassemble, reconstruct, but it just doesn’t seem to work.
I’ve never had surgery before and I don’t like it. It has truly messed up my life. I am still weak and get tired much too easily. Which also means I get frustrated easily when trying to get started at putting things back together. My wonderful wife assures me I am getting better every day – in which case I am looking forward to several years from now – but for now it is all very debilitating.
The psalmist ask the Lord to help us number our days that we may attain a heart of wisdom. Maybe the wisdom is that as we count our days, we learn to make each day count.
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