Ding!

So, that happened. How was your week?

Oh, ho ho.

I will go into further detail later, in a post to be entitled "Holy Fuck, Think Twice," just in time for the holidays, I think. But to sum up: this is hard. You may go into this thinking it's hard, but I am tough! I am strong like bull! I am no tiny peanut to be eaten by the elephant of pain! Or maybe some other metaphors that make more sense!

But you don't know, man. You don't know until you do it, and it's hard, and it hurts. Morphine is nice, and liquid vicodin, that's pretty sweet, but there is so much that is painful and strange and off-putting and frustrating about this whole experience.

I woke up hurting, and it got better each and every day. But what isn't changing is how tired I am all the time, how frustrating it is to want to go to the corner store and have to go have a lie down when I get back, to pick something up and then remember I'm not supposed to pick anything up and be reminded by that unpleasant stretching feeling in my belly. Showering is exhausting, sitting up is exhausting and lying down is exhausting and I almost cried, the night I finally managed to arrange the pillows in such a way that would let me finally – finally! – sleep on my side. No, I'm lying. I did cry. That's something I do at the drop of a hat, for no good reason.

There is no way I could have gone through this alone – no fucking way. Guy has been incredible. He has done so much for me, and so sweetly and cheerfully and happily that I could cry. And did. Several times, with a pillow over my head while he laughed at me for being silly.

This has been hard and frustrating and exhausting, and getting my protein shakes in and my water in and my vitamins in has been a chore like you wouldn't believe. Who the fuck would think drinking a protein shake was a hard job? It's a hard job. They are nasty like nasty ass in a nasty juice made from nasty. I'm not getting enough protein and I won't get enough protein for awhile, not until I heal some more and can take in more than I currently can.

Also, everything smells like Hospital. My bed and my clean clothes and my living room and my deodorant, none of which smelled like Hospital before I left. I don't know WHY but it is driving me NUTS.

But also: I am walking. I am doing better every day. I am glad to have done this and am waiting impatiently for the weeks to tick by, for things to get easier and easier until this is an ordinary way that I just am. It's coming closer each day and I am strong like bull and not a tiny peanut at all and I have lost 30 pounds, and I already feel lighter.

I woke up on that hospital bed aching and scared and tired, feeling sick and sad, but mostly thinking I can't wait to get started. That, and more morphine, please. Ding!

This entry was posted by anne, on Sunday, November 19, 2006. You can leave your response.