october 3rd

[prismaticbleed]

So we survived surgery, AGAIN.

Last night I was so strangely nervous about applying pre-surgery antiseptic (not the procedure itself, go figure-- maybe because it was me applying the antiseptic and part of me still does not trust myself) that I didn't fall asleep until after 2AM. I lay awake talking to Infinitii for most of that time, drifting in and out of consciousness with hir, like we were floating on star-studded waves. CZ was there too. I forgive him too effortlessly, too entirely, and thank God for that. We're doing well. We're talking more and being quiet more and listening more. So much has grown in the past few days, we really have learned. I'll talk about that later. But last night was gentle even though my throat was dry and my eyes red. I remember I dreamt about old empty houses full of rats, blame Corvo for that I guess.

I drove to the hospital in pitch black morning at 5AM, then sat in my patient room watching the mountains over the city turn lavender and indigo and pink. It was overcast today, but it was still lovely, with the quiet cloudy town and all the little golden-orange lights.

Genesis was there with me of course. Infinitii was too, since I didn't meet hir until a week after our first surgery, which makes the date even more surreal (I cannot imagine my life without hir at this point).
Infi followed me into the prep room, as they put my saline drip in. Ze curled up in the hollow between my chest and right shoulder and we just stayed like that for a while, cold but content. My mum walked in to say hi to us and talk a bit, her hospital scrubs were exactly a Celebi green color.
Everyone there was so nice, again. All the anaesthesia guys shook my hand, all the female nurses were so sweet and patient and understanding. I felt really cared for and that meant a lot.
Eventually they started the anaesthesia and wheeled us down the hall, as my vision immediately started to double. Infi moved down to sit in my lap, holding me gently around the chest and looking at me with one big, glassy eye, sharing in my progressing blurriness. I remember ze said that ze'd be with me until the day I died, until the end of our time. I wanted to hug hir but couldn't, so I just smiled the same. I remember two big round lights in the ceiling, and then that's it.

I don't remember waking up, I don't remember anything until I first tried to stand up and walk really. I kept falling asleep, I was drinking tons of water. They gave me an apple and I had to try and cut it with a butter knife, it hurt too much and I was too weak. I kept wanting to cry from helpless frustration and I didn't understand why. Part of me wonders if it's my grandmother, as she seems to emit that and I don't often get that feeling away from her. That makes me sad, I don't want to think negatively of her. We'll heal this.
Anyway, there's a lot less pain and bloating than I remember having last time, at least as a whole-- it's still rather excruciating to sit or lie down. I forgot about the bandages and the blood, too, and the low-grade fever that my mum says is normal post-surgery. But it's okay. I can walk and I'm not shaking anymore and I'm not nauseous. I should be good to drive in 2, 3 weeks.

I made vegetable soup/broth when I got home because that stuff is good for you, yessir. Beets, carrots, parsley, celery, cabbage, onion, garlic, ginger, sea salt, turmeric, and lemon. I didn't have any yams on hand, but that's fine, because that would be too starchy for right now I think. It's delicious by the way, I have this huge jar of pink-red broth in the fridge and about 5 jars of vegetables. I like organizing them like that.

It's windy outside. It's supposed to rain all day tomorrow. I hope it does, that would be so nice to watch.

The first lesson that came to mind with this surgery is: slow down, and let others take care of you for once. That is really hard for me to do! I felt like such a selfish, demanding slob all day, just because I was asking people to help me get dressed and get jars off the top shelf and walk down stairs instead of me. I couldn't, I can't with this surgery, but it still ended up in a near-meltdown from the sheer self-loathing it triggered. Why? Thank goodness I caught it, I had to fully shut off to stop it though. Twice, at least. I'll continue to be vigilant.
I keep thinking I'm not allowed to make my own choices, say "no," or stand up for my own opinions/feelings. I feel I have no right to, that I'm intruding on the existence of others by doing so. Odd how I haven't fully let go of that program yet. I think it's because part of me is convinced that it is true-- that having a "self" is morally flawed somehow, that I need to be "obedient until death" and be "seen and not heard," et cetera. I think I got the message twisted somewhere down the line.
Ah well. If anything can give me healthy, benevolent answers, it's headspace. I need to man up and talk to them every day now that I'm recovering, in spite of the joint fear/loathing that self-damning part of my brain views them with. Old news, you know the drill. It's just tricky when you're tangled in it. There's so much responsibility... going upstairs feels like a globe placed on my shoulders. I should discuss that with them before anything else, actually. I don't know if I have.
There's hope, always hope, and light. The second I stop trying so hard, well hey, it's there, unstained and unbroken. There are several precious people, even now, who insist I am a force of good in their lives, however small or fleeting. And that alone is reason to keep going, really. Just that incredible, distant knowledge that someone out there is benefiting from our persistent movement forward... that's enough not to give up.

Sandman & Death both insist I am not going to die tonight, which is good, because that doubt always hangs over my head. I think I don't treasure death enough, that I don't think about it enough, but Death said I think about it too much. I dwell so much on it that I forget to live, that I mis the value of life entirely. I never thought of it that way before, not that I remember. But it's a realization. Death and life go hand in hand, and one does not destroy the other. It's a cycle, a song, a duet. I need to think about Life more. I need to treasure my own life more.
Life is full of sparkles on the horizon, I can feel it, I can see it glimmering there, but I'm still walking uphill. It's good exercise though, and it has an even lovelier view.


I need sleep. I was out of it all day, but sleep is healing. Wish me luck with lying down, haha.
See you, and sweet dreams.