This weekend was a turning point for me; I’m just about back to where I was before the Surgical Summer. When you are in recovery, I see, you think it will never end. When you recover, it’s hard to remember what it was like even a few days ago.

I’ve learned that surgery of almost any kind is a trauma for the whole body, from the trauma of surgery to the trauma of different medicines and anesthetics. My body was out of whack, but time is a great healer; I remind myself to give my body a chance to heal. And so far, it always has.

I feel strong this morning and straightforward. I slept long and well for the first time in a week. My bladder is behaving; I didn’t get up even once this morning. Maria plans to plant ten pine trees in the back pasture today. I will be out there helping her to dig; I am returning to helping with farm chores and taking part in the work we have to do, which she has been doing by herself.

A morning of physical labor for me, and I am eager for it. This afternoon we’ll see the new movie about Little Richard, which gave me many sweet moments as I discovered Rock and N’Roll. He never got the credit he deserved.

A book about him has been banned in one Florida county because it mentions that he was gay. We loved you, Little Richard; you were a big man to me. And an inspiration. You never quit, even when they told you to.

People are still coming up to me and e-mailing me with deep concern and pity as if I had little time left, but I’m learning to smile and be grateful that people care. Being pitied is h arder for me than the surgery, but it is how people show concern. There aren’t too many ways to do that, I guess. Got to go and buy some mulch and then head out for my shoveling.

It’s good to be back and not wonder where the bathroom is. I’m bringing my camera back to the digging site. I am thrilled to be able to do my share of work again here at the farm. I am very grateful to the good people who have sent messages of love, support, and good wishes.

I am learning that I can depend on my doctors to take the best care of my body and to help me heal when necessary.

The rest is up to me and Maria.

And I am very grateful to the person I married; she is solid and present whenever needed.

We have begun talks about making post-op easier for her and me.

She reluctantly agrees to my plan to hire a nurse for a day or two when the surgery is over, it if comes to that. Maria will have some time to herself and to do her work.

It’s a start, an experiment. We must think about it now when it’s too late.

She doesn’t mind taking care of me, she says. I know. That’s the point.