This morning I woke up with an antsy feeling. A feeling like my real self wanted to be let out of my body and dance around and scream and run for a while. Trapped in a body that can’t do much. I thought I was going to go crazy. Greg said I could scream if I wanted to, and we ended up having a screaming contest for the four of us before he left for work this morning. Boy did the kids love that. Jake declared that Tyler was the winner because he said he’s losing his voice (which he’s not) and because as it turns out, Mommy can’t scream after all (for fear of it hurting too much) and Tyler has a really nice high pitched girl scream. It was a rousing way to start the morning, but it didn’t quite make me feel better.
So I took out some grey linen fabric to make some “lounge” pants. Basically these are pajama pants (I’ve made two others before) that I decide I can wear out in public in the daytime. Boy, was the cutting tiring, and it’s only four pieces. But the leaning over to cut was too hard on my body so I came downstairs before I could finish. Then I realized I’d forgotten something upstairs and I’m not supposed to go up and down stairs too much, so I sent Jake. While answering his many questions yelled down to me, I realized I was going to be sick. Oh man. That has been the worst of this whole recovery. It simultaneously feels like my insides are tearing apart and are on fire. But this morning it was Aunt Krissy and her cold wet washcloths and telling me to “think of snow and the top of a cold mountain” to the rescue. I escaped that close call. Phew.
I was feeling so antsy and frenetic and then suddenly I needed to lay down and rest. So I napped for two hours on the chair in the family room. Vicodin can sure do weird things to a girl, can’t it? Like make her have a dream that she’s crying to her husband because she’s really jealous of a family she met who lives in a bounce house. Yeah, that kind of weird.
The pain comes and goes, sometimes according to the dosage of pain meds, sometimes not. It’s all a mystery. Right now I’m dizzy but not tired. Now what do I do with that? I can’t do anything requiring clear vision (art, reading, sewing) but there really is nothing on t.v. in the middle of the day. Even on my previous beloved HGTV, they leave the very worst hosts and hostesses for the middle of the day. The kind of hosts that make you change the channel immediately. Or turn it off and pick up a book. Which you can’t read because you’re dizzy. So you hoist yourself out of the chair (yes, I can finally do this on my own) and you eat a cadbury egg instead.
Oh, the joys of being caged inside a body that isn’t cooperating. I make light of it here, but I think this is a good glimpse for me of those who really are sick with terrible things and for long periods of time. Compassion is something that grows slowly with age, isn’t it, with every experience bringing us closer to being the more kind-hearted person God wants us to be. At least I hope that’s what I will get out of this. But with all this Easter candy and meals from friends, maybe all I’ll really get is fat.