“This is the day of the year when nothing can happen. You go into a kind of coma.” Steinbeck wrote that in The Winter of Our Discontent—and if he had been recovering from knee replacement surgery in July, he’d have written it in sweat-soaked pajamas with a bottle of ibuprofen at his side.
This wasn’t supposed to be my summer of reckoning. I’d pictured progress: writing in sunlit cafes, poolside edits, maybe even a flirtation with leisure. But instead of sipping espresso by the sea, I’ve become intimately acquainted with the rhythmic hum of the ice machine and the quiet menace of physical therapy bands that look deceptively innocent until you try to bend.
Like Ethan Hawley, Steinbeck’s weary protagonist, I entered this summer stripped of illusions—mainly the illusion that I’m still 25 and can bounce back from anything. “It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone,” Steinbeck said. In my case, the “light” was a knee that once ran marathons, and now can barely clear a doormat.
Recovery is not glamorous. It’s slow, aching, and humbling. But like Ethan, I find myself sorting through what matters. I’ve rediscovered the quiet dignity of endurance—not as a noble ideal, but as a daily choice. The world doesn’t stop for healing. It just demands that you find new ways to keep up.
In Steinbeck’s words, “No one wants advice—only corroboration.” So here’s mine: If you’re in your own chapter of discomfort, know that struggle doesn’t disqualify you from meaning—it may in fact be the soil where something enduring takes root.
This summer has tested me. But like every good plot twist, it’s offered something deeper. My characters are messier. My reflections, sharper. And though I’ve written less with my hands, I’ve written more in my head—and in my heart.
So, yes. This is the summer of my discontent. But as Steinbeck taught us, discontent is where transformation begins. And what better soil for an author?
The next season’s not far off.
And I have plans….
Enjoy the journey! Right!?!
2 comments
Annette D
Ah, thank you for your kind words on yout travail. I know there’s pain in healing but this, too, shall pass.
Or so I’m consoling myself. You see, I had been looking forward to cortisone shots in my knees this past Monday, hoping they’d make working on my feet for 8hrs easier. But…
I tripped walking out to my car to go to work Sunday night and broke my fall with my face! Fractures on bottom and nose side of the eye socket, fractured nose, and a 3cm gash requiring 5 stitches. I look like a cross between the bride of Frankenstein and a domestic violence victim.
I go to the surgeon today to see if anything will require surgical remediation and am on a leave of absence for at least a month so far. But do you want to know the WORST part?
Even beyond the pain, I’m having trouble reading!!! My right eye struggles to focus and remain open. My nose bridge has damage so my glasses don’t sit right which messes with my progressive lens sweet spots. And tho my Dr offered the shots at my appt on Monday, I couldn’t face any more punctures.
My sister said now’s a perfect opportunity to get that eyebrow piercing I’ve always wanted– spoiler alert, I’ve never wanted one. I told her I think a giant gash and 5 stitches coint already. She had to agree.
So, hang in there, you will make it thru this. My mother has had both hips replaced and both knees replaced. And she walks better now than she has in years. She’s also a breast cancer survivor so she knows pain and recovery.
You will make it thru this and come out on the other side better, faster, stronger that you were before (small bionic man tv show reference. See, I’m older too.) Be well, friend, Annette
Jerry Strayve
Thank you for sharing your story, Annette. Your travails and those of your family certainly exceed my ‘minor’ inconvenience.
Don’t you hate the saying ‘What doesn’t kill us will make us stronger!’ LOL!
Please know that you and yours are in my prayers.
Cheers!