Waiting

 Once again I type from a hospital bed. I am again short an indefinite amount of intestines. I am again celebrating things like walking all the way to the bathroom by myself and being able to eat and drink clear liquids.

On one hand, it's hard to believe that so much has happened (again). I had surgery, I'm into the recovery period, and I'm looking at going home in the next few days.

On the other hand, it feels like I've already done this all, and that this is just the beginning of another long process. My body protests most of it's normal movements. My hand is swollen because it hates ivs, and the other looks more like a robot hand than my own. Sub planning sounds like the absolute last thing I want to do, and I'm bored with being confined to a bed.

I think the second part is hitting me harder this time, because I just know.

But I suppose I also know that it does and will get better. I can't see the end of this yet, but it's there. I just have to keep patiently waiting.

I'm better at that some days than others. I'd like to be normal.

I guess this is when I defer to the God whose plans are bigger than my plans and whose ways are greater than my ways.