Back from the world of sleep

And what a strange world it is. Every day I can feel more of my body coming back--I'm still typing slowly, and it is odd not to feel your fingertips. It's odd not to feel your fingers. But my brain remembers that I have them, and so somehow when I engage the old patterns the words come out, almost like they used to. I guess this will either lift of its own as my mass shrinks down, or I'll just get used to it and adjust. I'm already adjusting--it's like all things; a bit different, but you get used to it.

Things are much more normal today than they were even just yesterday, and worlds away from a few days ago. Today I was able to wake up and remember where I was, and I even had a bit of an interior landscape about where I'm staying and what the layout of the rooms was. The night before that was all gone--very distressing in way that you can't just chalk up to disorientation...although I think disorientation was probably part of it. I get tired at night and things stop working so well--pretty much stop working at all, really--and I have to just accept that and trust that it's all going to be okay and that people are taking care of me. And then in the morning I wake up again and slowly some of it comes back.

Coffee helps. Why doesn't this surprise me? In fact, I attribute much of my recovery to getting my espresso maker here so I can have my morning coffee the way I like it. Silly, isn't it? But so important. Espresso and brain function go hand-in-hand.

So apparently I have an enormous gash in my skull where they went in for the biopsy--I think I must have known I had one, but I have no memory of any of this, so the gaping head wound was news to me until my daughter told me yesterday. She asked me if I could cover it up, because, as she said, "It's kind of gross."

"You're kidding!" I told her. There's a gash in my skull? Why didn't anyone tell me? You'd think someone would have mentioned it by now. Or that maybe I would have noticed it on my own.

But maybe not. I certainly managed not to have noticed a few crucial things along the way--that's for sure.

But it will all come back, and I can't wait to do all the things I want to do. I'm starting them already. There's so much to do--I don't know what I was ever waiting for.