Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise . . .

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Bizarre, I know, this thing hanging from the ceiling beside a stairwell in a dessert/coffee house in SE Portland, a house named after a fine composer who was one of The Five.

How did this thing come to be and what is its meaning? I imagine it has multiple meanings and most of them are whimsical, like the prayer room at the top of the stairs (no not this door/not this one/not this one, silly/don’t even think about this one) once you ignore the others and pass through the one door.

Well, the entire house is a delight, as is the dessert and coffee, and it would make a perfect setting for a late-ish date.

Speaking of dates, I have one: On 2 May 2019, I shall have hip replacement surgery. That presumes “Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise”, of course. And the creek may indeed rise, what with all this rain we’ve been getting. The thing is, if the Lord is willin’ then there ain’t much to be done about it but wait. We wait, and then come hell or high water we get our date anyway.

The creek may rise but we’ve seen the rainbow.

Things come and go, and insurance coverage ends and then resumes, and then jobs change, and other changes occur, and we wait and if he’s willing then it is going to happen. Just like it is happening that I have been waiting through all of the changes, and then finally got a dental release, and then met with my surgeon again and then got that blood work and then I waited more and now the pre-screen nurse called today, right on time. Everything looks great she said and here is what happens next, she said, after telling me that the scheduler would call by the end of the week. But the scheduler called thirty minutes later, and suddenly (thank you dear God) I have a pre-op visit tomorrow and a pre-surgery class next Thursday and a week after that I will be cut open in a fairly significant way, and Dr. H already told me that I am a perfect candidate for an anterior entry (less disruptive, faster recovery) and that because of my physical condition he would like to keep an eye on me for a few hours but send me home the same day and that I will need help for a week or so and then just follow the plan, man and that he is not boasting but that he and his team are very good at what they do and that I can expect success (but of course there’s a risk he admits) and he thinks I am going to be very pleased.

This is all really good news for me, and I wanted to let you know. If you are the praying type (that is funny), please pray . . .

And, sometime after 2 May and I am feeling recovered enough to walk around with two good hips, I will go back to that house and have the best ginger cake with warmed caramel sauce that I have ever had, well worth the wait.