It is the second night of Chanukkah. Festival of Lights. Filled with sadness. Lives lost in Sydney. I think of the person who survived the Holocaust to still die because of anti-Semitism. My daughter is writing an assay where she needs to tie her family history with the book she had to read for school. She transports herself in time and space to the Nazi occupied Europe. Half of my family perished in Riga ghetto or concentration camp 15 miles from Riga. We will never know where exactly. Everyone in my family lights a Menorah. We have five of them at the table and even on the first night ten candles create a lot of light. Burning flames are magical and symbolic at the same time. They represent the miracle of Chanukkah. At the same time we always light a candle in memory of the loved ones. And sometimes I feel the light of the candle piercing my soul for lives lost is always a tragedy.
I am recovering. This time is much easier. Pain killers stopped on the evening of day 1. I got behind the wheel the morning after surgery and today (day 4) I washed the floor (just veeery carefully). Nights are still quite uncomfortable as I have to sleep on my back. And this time I was not able to keep my dogs out of the room. I do hope that was the last of it. I have on day of antibiotics left and I started the hyperbaric chamber again. I have found out yet again that there is one thing I could never do well – rest.