Omphaloskepsis

As I’ve noted before in a previous blog post (see The Summer of Ryan), I enjoy the sitcom Seinfeld. I relate to the character of George Constanza, as I tend to be a bit neurotic at times. It is for this reason that my mind usually goes to extremes after I have had surgery. I worry that there will be complications that will delay healing, which has actually happened a few times after previous surgeries.

Today, I have had some chills and a low-grade fever. In truth, this is probably because I have become a little dehydrated. However, my mind instantly goes to the possibility of infection, despite there being no indications of this. Should I go to the ER, or should I just stay home? I often weigh these questions heavily. I also feel quite run down, but I guess that is to be expected a few days after having surgery.

It is difficult to be patient when you are the patient! I want to be back on my feet doing everything I could do a week ago before my gallbladder became my worst enemy. Despite this, I know that healing takes time. It is just a little frightening when your body is doing things it normally doesn’t do.

For instance, I had a blister inside my belly button that popped this evening. It almost appeared as if someone was trying to blow a bubble from my umbilical area. I was thinking this might be a new party trick that I could unveil at Christmas – “Step right up and watch me blow bubbles from my belly button!” I could even take this show on the road. I’m sure there is an audience somewhere that would appreciate my act.

Having surgery is nothing new to me. I have seen my body in much worse shape than it is tonight. However, the paranoia sets in when something unexpected happens. You’d think I would have learned by now to be more patient as the patient. However, at 42 my mind still wanders to the “what ifs.” What if I do have an infection starting? What if I will never be able to have another bowel movement? What if I feel like going to work on Monday, but I can’t get any pants to sit comfortably over and around my surgical wounds?

This is a busy time of year at work, and I am not there. How big of a stack of things are waiting for me upon my return? I would say probably quite a few.

These are all things that I will pray about. Life will go on and I am sure I will be back to my old routines soon. Until then I’ll continue to navel gaze. I’ll let you know if the bubbles keep coming. I am off to take my temperature…

Four statues which stand in the Louvre, depicting the fine art of naval gazing. I like the Greek word for this practice much better, which is “omphaloskepsis”

The Summer of Ryan

“Pride makes us artificial and humility makes us real.” – Thomas Merton

The “Summer of Ryan” began innocently enough.  It was 2004 and I was employed as a teacher’s aide at a small, private school near my home in Illinois.  Working at a school meant that I had summers off to do whatever I wanted. When school let out in May, I decided I was going to spend the summer focusing on things that made me happy.  I declared that it was going to be the “Summer of Ryan,” which is an idea that I borrowed from Seinfeld.  If you have never seen this television show there is a character by the name of George Constanza, who is quite self-centered.  In one particular episode of the show, George declares that he is going to have a “Summer of George.” So, being rather self-centered myself, I thought I’d take a page from George’s book and indulge myself in the pleasures of a carefree summer. To this end, I bought tickets to several Cubs games and enjoyed traveling back and forth to Chicago.

I must have gone to at least a dozen games that summer.  It was a thrill to be at Wrigley Field, taking in all of the sights, sounds, and smells of this historic ballpark.  I had the pleasure of watching some of the greats of the game, such as Greg Maddux, play that summer. I also enjoyed listening to the vendors hawk their wares throughout the stands.  It was a chorus of “HOT DOGS, HOT DOGS, I HAVE HOT DOGS HERE,” along with “COLD BEER, COLD BEER, WHO WANTS A COLD BEER?!” Of course, there was the ever-present organ music between innings as well.  Finally, there were all kinds of great smells in the air, from cotton candy to warm, soft pretzels. It was truly a feast for the senses.

If only I had known that my “Summer of Ryan” would turn into my winter of discontent. If only I would have remembered the proverb that “pride goeth before a fall.” For you see, my arrogance in thinking that it was all about me led to a disastrous fall. One that would take years from which to recover.

See “The Winter of My Discontent – Part 1” for the next part of the story.

Wrigley Field – the setting for much of the “Summer of Ryan.”

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