On Waking

I’m flipping out right now. I feel like I’m tweaking on too much caffeine and too little sleep, but the last time I ingested caffeine was an espresso after brunch, thirteen hours ago. That’s cleared my system by now.

Adrenaline? More likely endorphins. I’m definitely running on a sleep deficit. I can feel that much. But I can’t sleep. I’m twitching. My fingers are shaking a little as I type. My mind is racing, racing, running itself ragged in too many directions. I can count at least three different concurrent lines of thought.

Today, for the first time in six weeks, for the first time since I essentially became an invalid, I spent a day with friends. That’s not to say I’ve been lacking for friendship in the last month-and-a-half. On the contrary, I’ve been shuttled around and lain out on futons and couches and generally been made to understand that my friends are amazing, but today was different.

I felt like I spent all day slowly waking up. I can’t describe it. A pleasant brunch, a few hours at Tommy’s house. A walk through Duck Pond. Standing in a kitchen and drying dishes. Standing. Standing. Walking.

I had a taste, a brief and bitter taste of life at the mercy of a failing body. Six weeks worth of eternity.

Today was on my own terms. I leaned on nobody but myself and although my heart swells with gratitude for the friends that I have been able to lean on it soars because I no longer need to. I’m barely coherent but I want to record how I feel. I want to shout. I want to sing. I want to cry. I do none of it but write. Barely coherent. Fragments.

Today was a day of simple pleasures. There was nothing grand in my activities. It was a day that is the echo of a dozen dozen days just like it. But today was beautiful. Today was the day that made me appreciate the dozen dozen days just like it.

Today I woke up.

Spinal Crap

Can’t sleep. Maybe it’s for the best. I was laying in bed and remembered that I promised myself that I would start writing more. It seems to be a promise that I make myself regularly, but it’s probably better that I at least feel guilty about it. Better guilt than nothing at all.

Two weeks ago I had a discectomy. Apparently one of the discs in my spine was getting uppity and encroaching on the surrounding nerves. Since I don’t negotiate with terrorists I hired a crack team of neurosurgeons to go in and take out the rebellious section of disc. There was some unfortunate collateral damage, mainly in the form of them having to apparently chainsaw through by back to get there.

All things considered, I can’t believe how quickly I’ve healed. I’ve still got some pain in my leg, but it’s not nearly what it was before the surgery. And from what I can tell, the surgical wound itself is almost completely healed. I had the staples out yesterday. One downside is that the incision makes it look like my asscrack goes halfway up my back. So that’s cool. I’ll be the hippest cat at the beach this summer.