05.03.03 I awoke this morning with a strange taste in my mouth - like one that can only be covered with Maxwell house coffee from a plastic cup... and which I have neither coffee nor clean cups. I have never had such dramatic dreams as the ones I had over the course of the night. (Or should I say that I have never felt such long ones that I can remember.) And every remark, every touch, every sensation, every expression, every idea stamped into my morning. Never before such a fantastic mix of dreaming and awake that�s been hanging on for two days now. They said that it would be this way, after the anesthesia had worn off. They said that it affects everyone differently. In my case, an intense sadness that I can�t shake. My stomach has been upset now for days & every bite of food is forced either up or down. I feel like I am starving� I can feel my body weaker and frailer than before. I could feel my pants hanging loosely around my hipbones yesterday when we ventured out to our favorite restaurant. The Good BF and I. Begging me to eat or to at least drink something. Act like yourself for just a minute. You have to eat. Don�t you want a drink? What�s wrong with you? A sip of my beer? A salad? That wouldn�t upset your stomach too much, would it? � But I know that it would.- And the alcohol would burn away the delicate lining that I have developed over the weeks. They don�t know what�s fucking wrong with me exactly. More tests � more cat scans, more x-rays, more poking, more invasion. More guessing. More specialists. More drugs. More of all this. The doctor sat on the edge of the rolling bed and held me like I was his child. He rubbed my hair carefully and said that I did well. I DID WELL. What the hell does that mean? I couldn�t stop crying. I am so fucking scared. |
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