Carpel Tunnel

When I present at writers’ workshops, I often quote that ancient Chinese curse,”May you live in interesting times.”  My point is that, although it is NOT a good thing for real people to live during interesting times (wars, famines, earthquakes), it IS a very good thing for your characters to live during interesting times, because interesting times are exciting. 

I’m not a brave person, but I have lived through a few interesting times – my first deepwater SCUBA dive, a couple of near misses in our plane, a perch on an unhappy horse.  This past week, though, I  lived through a mini-version of interesting times, nothing scary, but exciting enough to fill my “interesting times” quota.

Last Friday I had carpel surgery on my left hand. I have a great surgeon, personable and excellent at what he does.  The surgery went well, and I am already typing two-handed again, but they zonked me out more thoroughly than I had anticipated.  Perhaps that’s because when I was in my nice hazy relaxed state just after receiving an IV anti-anxiety drug (I wasn’t anxious), I happened to mention to the anesthesiologist that during my right-hand carpel surgery I was awake and could hear the doctors talking and feel the sugeon saw through the tough tendon at the base of my hand – no pain, just the sensation of tugging and pulling.

He gave me an uncertain smile and said, “Well this time, you won’t feel a thing.”  To which I replied with a sweet la-la-land protest of, “‘I really have to have a clear head tomorrow.  I really, really do.”

I remember them sticking a long-needled injection into my IV line and I also remember thinking, I’m glad that needle is not going directly into my arm, and the next thing I knew someone was whizzing me along a corridor in a wheelchair and she and  my husband were having a conversation about the fact that I was not waking up.  

I remember thinking, Oh rats.  

You see, I was scheduled to give the Commencement address at Lake Superior State University the next day. I didn’t tell the doctors this, because I didn’t want to sound prideful, (although I was prideful).  Which meant I didn’t tell the doctors that the reason I needed my head to be clear the next day, a perfect setup for a situation of acute embarrassment in front of  1,000 people who were expecting a half-way decent graduation address.

Okay, so I was carsick all the way home (not throwing up, but wishing I could), and after that two- hour drive, I slept for hours on our couch.  While there, between twilight sleep and the real thing, I was practicing my speech: “Congratulations Lake Superior State University Class of 2010!” I really practiced that line very well. Over and over and over again.  And also I practiced the ending: “Thank you, God bless you, congratulations!”

I was also doing a lot of praying, a whole lot of praying, and finally about bedtime, I felt God’s hand ease me back from the precipice of dread.  I slept well. 

The next morning by the time I had managed to wash my hair wearing a plastic bag on my left hand and put on pantyhose one-handed, I was beginning to feel more confident. I was still a bit nauseated, but I practiced my speech several times and was able to remember the middle stuff between the beginning “congratulations” and the ending “congratulations”.  A hopeful sign.

My husband drove us to the University, and, within the first few minutes of our arrival, we began to meet old friends and to feel the warmth of being a part of the LSSU family. We met the new university president, Dr. Tony McLain,  a really great down-to-earth guy, and I discovered that my friend Karen Hughes-Beacom, a world-renowned opera singer, was performing the US and Canadian national anthems.  Her songs were gorgeous, and she was a calming presence.

My speech went as well as I had ever hoped, and I loved standing up there talking to that incredible group of LSSU grads and their families and friends.  It was a wonderful day, but I have to admit that the experience of having minor surgery and giving a commencement-speech all in the same 24- hour period is about as close to interesting times as I want to be.  I’ll allow my characters to solve murders and survive kidnappings.  I’d rather be reading – or watching LSSU grads claim their diplomas.

So next time I’m in line to have  my excitement quota filled, I’ll say to the lady with the ladle, “Just a very small helping, please. You see, I don’t have much of an appetite.  Actually, I think I’m feeling a wee bit queasy…”

Blessings, Sue