Trying to find a balance

…between clarity and pain relief.

I wouldn’t need a brain, if I didn’t have to try to work on a reflection paper. I’m only going to my afternoon class—and only because it is that class; my instructor’s been a rock and I know she wants to see me, and all we’re going to do is turn in evaluations (done; it was easy) and have social time. Oh, and chapel, too—but that doesn’t require higher functioning, just the ability to walk there. My balance is still off, but it isn’t very far, and there are railings at the stairs.

Just now, I don’t remember where I left my toothbrush. But I can’t blame one Vicodin for that, alas. I brought it back from my friends’ bathtub last night, and chose not to leave it in the bathroom, because my shelf was already too full. So there’s a Ziploc bag somewhere in my bedroom, with toothbrush, soap, and all that sort of thing. And now I get to find it. When I’m supposedly not allowed to bend.

I also ought to do laundry, but carrying it down the hall to the elevator daunts me. I have a few more days’ worth, I think. (How can I possibly not lift, for two weeks?)

I feel like a Borg, with a weird implant in me. My ear mainly tickles; my neck itches and hurts. The tape comes off in three days, yay. It’s a stiffness that’s horribly distracting.

The itch means it’s healing; and that is a good thing, she says through gritted teeth.

I have, incubating in me, a post about bodies and our relationship to them. I’m intrigued by how long it’s taking me to find my own way back in, and I’m thinking about the gift of the body, fragility, strength. Probably not today, though; judging from the mental presence that I still don’t really have.