I am one nightshift short of two weeks leave.
I’ll spend the first week finishing an essay and prepping for my son’s wedding, the second week in Noosa for what’s become our annual spring pilgrimage.
I need to detox (and eat oysters) because I’ve lost my inner equilibrium.
Six days ago I was under the knife for two hours getting a second bone graft in my jaw. Surgery two of three. As a result, I’m groaning with pharmaceuticals. Corticosteroids punching-on with diabetes meds. Tug-o-war between anti-inflammatories and antibiotics.
The operation itself was like a scene from ‘House, M.D‘ with four surgeons crowding in with iPhones and an enthusiastic chorus of “Well done, Dr Michael!” at the end. It would have been fun, except I left looking like I’m auditioning for ‘Elephant Man, The Musical‘.
Another unlooked-for consequence is that I can’t drink alcohol while I’m on these pills. Cold-turkey is a fascinating experiment. I’m monitoring myself for signs of delirium tremens, but so far all I’ve got is better sleep.
Surprised (and a little worried) at how little I miss my G&T’s.
I’ll definitely be primed for a cocktail at Noosa, and to share a chilled rosé with my wife on the balcony overlooking the Coral Sea. We’ve booked dinner at Sum Yung Guys, lunch at Pomona Distilling Co., maybe a paddle on the river if I can forget about the sharks…
But mostly I want to fell ‘well’ again.
Flush the chemicals with morning walks to Hell’s Gate followed by a smoothie from the Blended Health Bar, some shopping and a lazy lunch, an afternoon walk on the beach to fossick for shells and feel the wet sand between my toes, then a dip in the hotel pool, sunshine and moderate libations on said balcony.
You get the picture. My mind is straying two weeks ahead of my body.
But irrespective of what actually happens in a fortnight (rain, rain, rain) right now I’ve just procrastinated for an hour and it really, really is time I finished this god-damned essay.