I have been mostly working on moving from pain management back into "life insertion." (How the hell am I going to insert my life back into this?). The Vicodin they gave me is very effective for periods of time but is decidedly NOT benign. It makes the serious pain go away, but what is left is a strange buzz with "insects crawling around the edges." Seriously, I was relaxing in bed the other day and the little dust motes that float around in the sun turned into little flies and skirmished with each other at the periphery of my vision. Not butterflies, either. Flies. Is this Iowa? No, it's Mordor.
Every 12 minutes, CNN gives an update on how Michael Jackson needed an anaesthesiologist to administer drugs that make my Vicodin look like party favors just so the poor sucker could sleep! He wanted to be knocked out. Out. With flies. From Mordor.
I'm an old buzz hound. I like that vodka martini and maybe a little something buzz in the afternoon after work. I like that feel good all over warm me up and give the world a hippie hug sort of buzz. I cannot relate to this narcotic buzz that somehow makes you colder, more distant, isolated from your pain but also from most else.
I'm happy to feeling well enough to walk, to talk a little, to type badly and to connect again across less distance. I'm pleased that when my friends think I'm messing up they just tell me, rather than suggest a different anaesthesiologist or something.
Thanks to Jeff and Kevin and Yvonne for helping get our beds set up so Robyn can sleep too. We've really been enjoying going to bed early. Robyn's been enjoying just going to bed at all.