There’s nothing that compares to the soft amazingness of a madeleine, still warm from the oven…even a freshly~made madeleine loses its airy magic the very next day, so time really is of the essence!

Of course, it also helps if you have the wherewithal to make fidgety little recipes when you’re not spontaneously falling asleep.

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When I went into the hospital for knee surgery in April, I struck a deal with my surgeon ahead of time, who agreed that I could be released earlier than the usual minimum two~week stay for a knee replacement in Japan. Of course, how early was based on my own progress entirely, with certain benchmarks I would need to meet in order to demonstrate that I could survive outside the confines of the very helpful hospital. You know…the one with all of the drugs I wouldn’t be allowed to take home with me?

Still, my doctor only made plans to keep me for the ten days it took me last time, and I considered that a good omen.

Let’s cut to the chase: there weren’t many more good omens. There was a lot of screaming & sobbing every single day, and there were more back~to~back panic attacks than I’ve ever had before. But all of that simply made me laser focused on the fact that I am not built for hospital life, and I needed to get. the. hell. outta. there. So, I decided early on—just in my brain, mind you; I didn’t share it with anyone yet—that I would be released exactly one week after my surgery, even tho it took me longer the first time around.

I had to.

In case you were wondering (and because I have no boundaries) I have osteoarthritis, which has been slowly eating away at the cartilage in my body, most specifically my knees and my lower back. No, it doesn’t help that I’m fat, but it’s also difficult to maintain a “healthy” weight when mere movement causes pain. So: two new knees, slightly more than one year apart, and two matching hospital stays as well.

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As it turns out, I was able to get out of the hospital after one week, though it required pushing myself sooo~ much harder than I thought possible…and getting into the taxi to head home feeling more than a little tender & wobbly.

It was also the Friday which marked the beginning of Golden Week in Japan, so I had no reason not to relax at home with my wee family of Mr. Scout & Kome Kitten & myself…sleeping in late every day, binge watching TV shows, reading Steven Brust novels, playing video games, ordering lots of take~out, and being glad for all the rainy days that could help me care for my little lanai garden when I couldn’t.

Once again, to be brutally honest, I relaxed a bit more than I should have, as I’m still going to “rehabili” at least once a week even now, and I really do not like to disappoint my physical therapist, Keiko. I had assumed that the Golden Week holidays could act as an extended hospital stay, with my continued forward progress in healing, but from the comfort of my own bed.

I also assumed that I would be ready to get back to some of my day~to~day tasks (including cooking) when Mr. Scout went back to work after ten days, but in actuality, I basically did fuckall once I got home, and there was no way that was possible. I also had a few slightly scary setbacks, including a serious allergic reaction to the adhesive bandages (& possibly the internal stitches) used on my leg, as well as the need to continue anticoagulant therapy even after leaving the hospital, which is pretty uncommon, and which also kinda really freaks me out.

To make a long story slightly less long, I was doing much better in some places this time around, but I was doing far worse in others. A lot more take~out has been ordered post~Golden Week than I expected, and the amount of cooking I’ve done at home has been severely limited…tho I did manage to make some boxed cupcakes, complete with accompanying tub of pre~made frosting & sprinkles. I may have also eaten them all (minus one!) in the name of bringing up my blood count to be less anemic. Or some other equally true but far more convincing fact.

I’m trying to go easy on myself, tho, as it doesn’t help anyone when I get sad or angry that I can’t physically do something I had mentally planned. And as nice as it is that the panic attacks have been curbed since coming home from the hospital, I’m pretty sure that Mr. Scout has better things to do than constantly talk me down whenever I overextend myself and end up crying because I have to make pad thai tomorrow instead of today.

Still: bowls of cereal have made way to simple breakfasts of toast and fruit, which have begun to feature the occasional egg or two; very simple sandwiches for lunch have graduated into grilled sandwiches with instant soup or an easily assembled cheese tray when there wasn’t time for a “proper” lunch; and there was even a sincerely simple hummus recipe, which was greatly enjoyed with reheated naan rather than stressing myself out about needing to make homemade pita.

Not so coincidentally, I began getting a bit more ambitious as I also began to be able to stand up for longer durations at a time. I do have a cool doctor’s spinny swivel stool in my kitchen, but there’s only so much that one can do while sat down, and I use it mostly for doing the dishes, as its height and design lean heavily into recipes which don’t require a lot of slicing or chopping, nor as much going back and forth between pantry and stove as I tend to do.

Mise en place? What even is that??

Somehow, tho, I got it into my head that I wanted to make madeleines, and I set the pan on the stovetop as a reminder…proceeding to move it in & out of my way for nearly a week before I was up to the task. Rather than following my classical textbook recipe, I found a trustworthy & much less difficult recipe online, made a few small changes because I’m me, and then was sat on the sofa, enjoying fresh, fluffy, shell~shaped goodness and a lovely pot of tea about one hour later.

They really were truly heavenly, but the best testament to how well I was feeling was that I instantly wanted to make them again the very next day, already planning on how to fuss w/ the recipe even more. Being floored by the terminator of allergy medicines, however, kept me in check. And asleep on my face. So I haven’t made them again yet.

All the same, I noticed that the satisfaction in properly preparing an especially finicky little tea cake actually mirrored how I have felt about my healing on any given day: the more ambition I feel, the more progress I’m making…but the more I need to reign myself in so as not to do too much; and the days I feel like staying in my pyjamas all day, eating the world’s laziest PB&J are (obvs) the days I need to push through the lethargy, and (at the very least) find a way to set myself up for a better tomorrow.

Much like cooking, it really is a balancing act, and I’m lucky to have such an amazing support system in place, filled with friends & chosen family, who help me keep my feet on the ground…and then to put them one in front of the other.

Of course I know that there will be more take~out in my future, and probably more crying in frustration, but for the time being, it feels nice to have more good days than bad.

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Please feel free to comment or ask questions…I’m pretty much an open book on the subjects I mentioned above, and engaging with readers helps to keep me going. You don’t even have to log in or register a real email address! So if you’ve read this far, please give it a little like, and if you have the time, drop in a comment & say hello.

And thank you so much!!

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