Everything in a New Perspective
On Friday I'll be undergoing throat surgery. By now it's fairly routine--this is my 17th or 18th surgery, I've lost count. We go in first thing in the morning. They put me out, scrape the cords down, and send me on my way. This isn't a condition that's going away any time soon. There's no cure, and the only thing I can do is get periodic surgeries to ensure my larynx doesn't become overgrown with pollyps.
This means, of course, that I'm going to have to explain this all to my kid at some point. There will be a time when he's cognizant of what's happening to me, and he's going to be scared. Why? Because I get scared. No matter how many of these surgeries I do, it's still scary, because every time there's a little more at stake.
There's lots of things we're going to need to explain to our son, and I think about them a lot. The fun stuff--gravity, for example. I don't remember when gravity was explained to me, or the novel feeling that things stay down, but it must have been a pretty cool realization, and I look forward to reliving it again for the first time. We're also going to need to have the "where did I come from" conversation. I can't decide if the normal story ("You did what with what?!") is more or less hard to describe than our reality ("How many shots a day?!"). And if we use our frozen embryo to have another kid, I'll really be at a loss. "You were conceived at the same time as your older brother, but born a few years later."
Here's the one question I don't want to have to answer: "Why is Daddy out of breath when he climbs the stairs?" During my pre-op physical on Friday, it became abundantly clear that my weight and general level of activity (ie: none) is a problem. My normally soft-spoken internist was unforgiving and brutal. He wants me to have some blood tests to check cholesterol and the rest. "You can have them done now if you need to be scared straight. Otherwise, try to make some lifestyle changes and have them done in a couple months." The numbers on the scale are enough to motivate me. Well, that and the impending arrival.
I'd lost about 30 pounds in 2004 on the South Beach diet in the months leading up to my sister's wedding. I looked and felt great, though I still wasn't exercising. So, I know I can do this. This week I began those "lifestyle" changes. Besides being better about what I eat, I've also decided to change my commute. Instead of changing trains at Metro Center to get a Blue or Orange to Smithsonian, the stop closest to my work, I get out and walk the rest of the way. It adds 10 or 15 minutes to my commute, but the extra walking is worth it.
Getting out at Metro Center on 12th Street NW and walking due south, I cross the National Mall. Nothing's more DC than walking through the Mall to get to work. Feeling good about doing something (anything!) about my well being, I walked between the Capitol and the Washington Monument, caught glimpses of various Smithsonian museums, and thought about all the great stuff around here I'd get to do with my son.
This means, of course, that I'm going to have to explain this all to my kid at some point. There will be a time when he's cognizant of what's happening to me, and he's going to be scared. Why? Because I get scared. No matter how many of these surgeries I do, it's still scary, because every time there's a little more at stake.
There's lots of things we're going to need to explain to our son, and I think about them a lot. The fun stuff--gravity, for example. I don't remember when gravity was explained to me, or the novel feeling that things stay down, but it must have been a pretty cool realization, and I look forward to reliving it again for the first time. We're also going to need to have the "where did I come from" conversation. I can't decide if the normal story ("You did what with what?!") is more or less hard to describe than our reality ("How many shots a day?!"). And if we use our frozen embryo to have another kid, I'll really be at a loss. "You were conceived at the same time as your older brother, but born a few years later."
Here's the one question I don't want to have to answer: "Why is Daddy out of breath when he climbs the stairs?" During my pre-op physical on Friday, it became abundantly clear that my weight and general level of activity (ie: none) is a problem. My normally soft-spoken internist was unforgiving and brutal. He wants me to have some blood tests to check cholesterol and the rest. "You can have them done now if you need to be scared straight. Otherwise, try to make some lifestyle changes and have them done in a couple months." The numbers on the scale are enough to motivate me. Well, that and the impending arrival.
I'd lost about 30 pounds in 2004 on the South Beach diet in the months leading up to my sister's wedding. I looked and felt great, though I still wasn't exercising. So, I know I can do this. This week I began those "lifestyle" changes. Besides being better about what I eat, I've also decided to change my commute. Instead of changing trains at Metro Center to get a Blue or Orange to Smithsonian, the stop closest to my work, I get out and walk the rest of the way. It adds 10 or 15 minutes to my commute, but the extra walking is worth it.
Getting out at Metro Center on 12th Street NW and walking due south, I cross the National Mall. Nothing's more DC than walking through the Mall to get to work. Feeling good about doing something (anything!) about my well being, I walked between the Capitol and the Washington Monument, caught glimpses of various Smithsonian museums, and thought about all the great stuff around here I'd get to do with my son.
posted by dan at 10:30 AM
1 Comments:
When Dan and Sarah first got married, Dan repeated the words, "my wife..." at every chance he got. It was fun to watch him marvel at the power behind that foreign phrase. "My wife, my wife, my wife..." And now, it's just as fun to see (or read) him playing with the weight behind the words "my son." I have a feeling we are all in for many months of "my son, my son, my son..." I, for one, can hardly wait!
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