i really should be watching mad men, but i'm not because i have the attention span of a gnat these days. especially with tv or movies; i cannot just sit there and watch something or i start getting so restless that i start drumming on the wall and that just drives my mom crazy. and considering the woman has been taking far better care of myself than i deserve, complete with grilled cheese and onions on raisin toast without me even asking for it, the least i could do is not actively drive her nuts.
yesterday was the first day since surgery that i didn't cry. i guess i'm a natural born crier, but wen i tried to explain to someone how every day i burst out in tears a couple of times, i think they thought i was really nuts. "no, i don't know why, and there's nothing that really precipitates it, and it just happens and then i pull it together and finish whatever thought i was on. for a while it was happening at 1 and 4 pm each day; i was just like a baby settling down for a nap. i'm trying to find something that describes all of this, because even though my mom's well-meaning friends keep saying, "you must be so glad to have this behind you," no, not really. because even though i rationally know that i needed to have surgery, and all things considered i'm doing really well, that still doesn't erase the fact that i went in asymptomatic and feeling fine into the hospital and left with less skull, five steel bolts, and a windy incision that itches. there is a violence to surgery, especially ones that don't feel needed, and i sort of feel like someone stuck a marble in my head and sealed the cap on and started shaking, like the way we made butter in first grade. and i'm not really bitter or angry, but i miss the way my head was configured before. i mean more than just the shape--something feels lost and even though everyone swears it's just temporarily, how does anyone really know? i cried today because it was too hard to figure out what i wanted for dinner, and though i later baked cookies and my mom says that counts to counteract a cry, i would like to return to a person with a rational distance between her and the outside world. and my mo jo--i miss that. i hope once they remove the staples on tuesday that some of the magic seeps back in. otherwise, my scalp's going to need to do some stretching.
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3 comments:
Babe, I don't think anyone can read this and think you DON'T have your mojo. (Seriously, it's just gross that you're a better writer than...well nearly everyone else, a week after brain surgery.) I think that--plus, you know, distance--is why we're all less concerned than you about your returning to normal.
Plus, if crying every day isn't normal, well...there are large stretches of my life for which I should have been under observation I guess.
aww cotes, what kate said! i still hear a tiny coty narrator in my head when i read your posts and that makes me super happy (although a tiny bit sad because i miss you). bottom line is that surgery SUCKS ASS and you need to give yourself time to rest, relax, and let mama mahan take good care of you!!! enjoy those grilled cheese and onion sandwiches on raisin bread while they last, girl! miss you and love you and thinking about you all the time!!!
(also, the mm premiere was kind of sub-par. it can wait!)
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