One year ago today
I found out I didn't have brain cancer, got the staples yanked one by one out of my head, and then was driven home stoned on steroids and oxycodone.
I've been having brief skin-deep sensory flashbacks, induced by the humidity in my room, and imminence of the garden. My forehead feels tight, and I have short relapses of the faintly queasy sensation of omnipotence conferred by the opiates. Walking through the house, I sometimes smell Johnson's Baby Shampoo, though I threw the bottle away eleven months ago. A few days ago I found myself playing Minecraft; it's occurred to me that the last time I did that was shortly after I felt able to sit up for long periods of time.
The sound of the frogs makes all this seem appropriate. Possibly from now on, my body will each spring attempt to re-enact its recovery from brain surgery, as if it is a necessary and organic element of the season.
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I've been having brief skin-deep sensory flashbacks, induced by the humidity in my room, and imminence of the garden. My forehead feels tight, and I have short relapses of the faintly queasy sensation of omnipotence conferred by the opiates. Walking through the house, I sometimes smell Johnson's Baby Shampoo, though I threw the bottle away eleven months ago. A few days ago I found myself playing Minecraft; it's occurred to me that the last time I did that was shortly after I felt able to sit up for long periods of time.
The sound of the frogs makes all this seem appropriate. Possibly from now on, my body will each spring attempt to re-enact its recovery from brain surgery, as if it is a necessary and organic element of the season.
This post was cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Please comment there using OpenID. (Comments:
)