The first thing I wake up to is the feeling of pain.
It’s 5:43 AM.
Finally I have slept past 5 AM. I am frustrated, exhausted and my body is aching all over, stressed from pushing myself in new ways – my muscles feel overworked, nerves – irritated, mind – annoyed, heart – slowly, slowly pounding on.
This is incomparable to any of the several "accidents" I’ve had before. The broken wrist snowboarding last year, the three broken bones in my foot in college, passing out on my bike two weeks ago, chipping my shinbone in the snowboarding park, ripping the back of my legs open on the boat ladder… nothing, nothing, nothing is the same.
I feel like I’m on a horror movie where someone is controlling my body and the amount of torture I must endure, giving me just enough to keep me conscious to see me squirm.
Today I would still describe the pain as a 9 on the scale I was repeatedly shown in the hospital recovery room. It feels like my stitches are being burned with matches on both sides of my ankles. I got up to go to the bathroom and now I am content with laying here for another couple hours to avoid the painful pressure of lowering my foot back towards the ground.
Vicodin swallowed. Computer down. Sleep, please.
No comments:
Post a Comment