And some trepidation

Next week the fellas and I will be traveling to the sunshine state for Thanksgiving. Eamon is not joining us, as he would rather not leave the dreary, damp and let's throw in dank.
I am actually really looking forward to this; for one, I'm not cooking which stands alone as making it worthwhile. Then we add that my entire family will be together, sans the old man, and we have a potentially happy reunion.
These last few weeks have been a chaotic mess. I do however remind myself that 7 weeks ago, I was about to go under the knife and was completely unsure of the outcome. The knee is fine, if only I could get past the nerve damage in my arm from the crutches, then I could actually expect a lovely holiday weekend.
I now fully understand how people with chronic pain can walk around hating everything and everybody. You could have thrown any one of my favorites at me and I wouldn't even flinch, there is nothing of much interest beyond finding the right position to hold still and get a little relief. Even when you know there is going to be an end to it eventually, it's a complicated battle between the rational and the frenzied part of the mind that is convinced it's going to be a constant, and nothing less.