Are you ok talking about this?

"Are you ok talking about this?" Several friends asked me this question last night. Almost apologetically, they ask for the details of my surgery and recovery. They are curious but don't want to overstep or stir-up more anxiety. "Hell, I blog about this stuff…" I reply in an almost dismissive tone. It occurs to me to ask if they are ok listening to me talk about this. I watch the way I rattle off the median statistics for a healthy adult's progression through surgery and recovery. Am I presenting as too detached? I certainly am anxious, but talking about it or not talking about it doesn't seem to make much difference.

The funny thing is most of these friends have just returned from Burning Man. While the two experiences don't directly compare the way we tell stories about them is remarkably similar. The month before the event, we simply can't avoid talking about it: when do you leave? what are you doing to get ready? do you have enough help? what are you expecting? what are the risks? how long are you going to be gone? why in the hell do you think this is a good idea again? Then we're gone, incommunicado, for about a week. We try to document the experience while its happening, but we know there's really not any way to convey this experience to people who aren't there with you. We come back, dazed and a little incapacitated for a while but full of stories to tell about hardships and triumphs and ridiculously stupid things we did. The big difference here… I don't plan to start this game up again next year.

Lately I'm trying to be more aware of the kinds of stories I'm telling about my future. I don't want to set up unreasonable expectations, but also want to avoid giving too much voice and energy to the worst-case scenarios. It's a surprisingly delicate line to walk. It's not going to happen, but what if it does? How do I stay optimistic and centered while still preparing for the worst? It's not necessary to ask "What could possibly go wrong?" so often. (Anyone who watches Joss Wheadon television knows that's a HORRIBLE question to start an episode.) The thing about story telling is when those questions get asked, the universe feels compelled to answer them clearly. I guess the best thing I can do is speak to the giant pile of resources and circumstances I already have lined up in my favor.
These are the stories I want to spend the most time telling over the next couple weeks:

• Russell, Kaylee, Max, my parents, my coworkers, and a wealth of extended chosen family are all standing strong beside me.
• I have a fantastic lead surgeon with a spectacular assistant surgeon all part of one of the area's premier orthopedic groups.
• I'll be having the surgery at a new hospital purpose-built for orthopedics.
• My body is young and healthy.
• The hospital is close to home (as in a matter of blocks) so even recovery check-up visits will be easier than many people have it.
• There are two remarkably comfortable beds in my home.
• I have a laptop and wireless internet so I don't have to feel so isolated.
• I have a fantastic health-plan and work for an incredibly supportive organization.
• I am generally self-aware and practiced at spotting unhealthy patterns and asking for the help I need to correct them.
• My partners have partners to lean on and places to go when things are challenging at home.
• While I still don't like or seek out pain, I have a much better understanding of how to process it than I would have 10 years ago.
• Most of all though, I know I am loved; that right there is going to make all the difference in the world.