Edith/Maddie here, on the first day of spring.
Spring! Spring is a time of growth, of rebirth. It’s when we celebrate the cycle of life and renewal. When we pause and notice the equilibrium between night and day, winter and summer. Right?
Well, what about feeling out of equilibrium, even at the equinox? Let me explain.
I’m a writer. (The chorus of “DUH” resounds.) I make my living with my imagination, my heart and my brain, and, very importantly, my hands. I’ve already been through two hand surgeries since fall of 2020. One was the wrong one, one the correct one (and yes, I did engage a very good personal injury lawyer, thank you S. and H. [you know who you are], and I can’t say anything else about that except that satisfaction was had).
You’d think that’d be enough in the medical procedures department, on top of previous knee replacements, shoulder repair, and more. But, no. Tomorrow I go in for what my (good, second) hand surgeon described as minor finger surgery. I’ve had a cyst resting on the nail bed of my middle right finger for a couple of years. It corrodes the nail, swells with fluid every week or two causing me a lot of distress, and when it resolves, it’s both painful and gross.
The doc said the cyst is related to the arthritis in that last joint.
All that said, I am a person in my second S decade, and the end of (my) life isn’t as theoretical as it once seemed. I am reasonably healthy and hearty, don’t worry, but all kinds of s**t can go down during surgery – even on a finger. Plus, I am a worst-case-scenario kind of worrier.
So, I’m checking the ducks, with a mind to the ducklings who will survive me.
Wills and estate planning done? Check.
Literary executor assigned? Check (see willing son on left).
Passwords to my entire universe handed over? Check.
Family photos scanned and labeled? Oops, fail.
Basement clear and decluttered? Oops, again.
Closets … ? Ah, forget about it.
Bills paid, manuscripts turned in, charity donations made? Check.
Do Hugh and my sons, my sisters and brother, my dear personal friends and cherished author pals know I love them? Check, without question.
I think the important ducks are lined up. I fully intend to see you all on the other side (that is, Wednesday). And, please, make sure your own duckies know you love them.
Readers: What tangibles do you plan to pass along? How about intangibles? (And have you ever had a cyst removed from a nail bed?)