Wednesday, 21 September 2011


4:55 a.m. I've slept through seven entire hours - the longest stretch since this little Odyssey began. I wake up in my own bed, but thinking that I'm in a Quonset Hut. The room feels square and somehow metallic around me...the bed feels very high up - and I wonder if that's just my cerebellum still recovering from pressure and surgery. I have the amusing notion that perhaps I'm at Torchwood.  I'm functioning fine - or at least in the hospital, I felt normal. But the cerebellum took a kicking and it's what lets me know where I begin and leave off in space...and it has odd, mild notions that may be a little out of whack when I'm not completely awake.

For the first time in a week, no dreams waking me with a sense of cold dread. Thank you. I'll take it.

Two more days of steroids. I have a short stretch to start burning off chemicals, dyes, pills etc. My skin looks like parchment paper...dry as a riverbed. I burst into tears sometimes and it's impossible to tell when it will happen, for how long. I can't know the recipe...drugs? Emotional shock? Physical shock? Some cocktail of all of that?

It's good to be home. Friends have cleaned my place. The fridge has been emptied and restocked. The day I come home, it's summer-mild. A glorious sun is shining. My ceiling high plant is waving it's branches in the open window. Happiness seems inevitable.

I keep looking for Cat. Just out of my peripheral vision - and often. I feel his absence and never knew how often I checked to see where he was or passed a hand over this fur when he was sleeping. Late yesterday, I suddenly feel shaky and call C. I want to say I feel lost. That I miss my cat. I don't mean to cry but I do - and C., who is generally the soul of calm kindness vows to go get him right away and "anybody who doesn't like it can kiss my ass."

But no. I'll wait a little. There might be surgery yet - and another time away. I can't yank him around like he's a teddy bear. And besides, Jan tells me he loves his big picture window. And he comes out to rub on people's legs and purr. He flops down, belly up, to flirt. And they all like him. That's most important of all things for me - that he's with people who like him.

Today, I'll be getting a short haircut. Six months ago, that would have felt like a trauma right up there in the house-burning-down category. Now it's hair...more ballast to jettison. I look around this place that's been my home for a long time...and it's full of stuff. I've hated the amount of stuff for a long time - but now it looks pretty to me...comforting and cozy. But still too much. At some point, I want to hold a craft party and invite everyone I know (or friends know) who would love to take home extra beads, prefelt yardage, yarn, clothing & what-have-you. Feng shui clearing and party all at once, I think. I need to be travelling light.

My friends show me that all I want to carry right now, I can carry in my heart.


Louise said...

Hang in there! People get through this. So glad your cat is safe and happy. I'm sure that gives you some peace despite missing him.

:-) MaryLou said...

Linda - Your eloquence about your experience is amazing. I hope you recover quickly and fully!

Cynthia Newcomer Daniel said...

When we left New York, I had a party and gave away the excess stuff I had collected - it was wonderful. I still think about it with joy - some of the things I had collected and knew I would never used were blessings to my friends, and that was an incredible feeling for me.

Mikki said...

I know exactly where you're coming from, my friend. As you were going through this all I could think was "Thank God there are people with her" because you know I was told the same thing, and even though they were wrong I had the endless days of waiting to hear.
It's ok to cry spontaneously, healthy and natural. I love that you're looking at all the weird changes as just new interesting experiences and a different lens on life. I think that's the best way and I remember laughing because my tongue wouldn't let me speak the way I wanted when I was recovering..a sense of humor will get you through :)
One of my immediate thoughts was of your treasured hair but I know you'd rock anything from Lady Godiva locks to a Sinead O'Connor :) I am just happy you're still with us and that your amazing light is still shining in this often dull world. Love ya, Girlfriend! Stay strong.

Heather Jones said...

Thank you my dear friend for sharing. It helps to know. I have always loved your writing and I do want to journey beside you and with you,hear you,support you...
love & prayers

Howpublic said...

You are all my lights, you know that? What wonderful, wise strong women I'm blessed to know! Thank you.