Phase: Recovering from the Hospital

David Loofbourrow

Phase: Recovering from the Hospital

(from CaringBridge 2018)

In every Great Journey there is a time after the Trial, after the Survival, but before the trek home back to recovery and resumption of normal life. I call it the time of Respite, a place of patching the big pieces together. It's a time of quiet, wisdom found in silence. A safe place where the protagonist can loosen the death-grip on despiration, often with the support of that one special actor, and he can summons the new energy needed to travel back.

The hospital is NOT that place, I've found.

The wonderful, loving, talented and caring hospital is also a (critical) part of nightmare where you endure incredible stress, pain after pain, hallucinations, sweats and chills, one (seemingly) impossible command after another--over which you have ABSOLUTELY NO CONTROL. My nephew compared it to a zoo, with constant loud noises, activity and conversations going on just outside you door; beautiful people constantly looking you over, encouraging you to do tricks you don't want to do, or can't do, and then stab you again and again.

All in the name of the miracle of life they just gave you.

So here's where I am today: (1) I'm exhausted! Last night I had real sleep for most of the night (not drug-induced, Steven King controlled catatonia) even if it took four locations. (2) I'm a wreck. Broken. I have a strict regulator on calls, texts, FB, news, all input and most output. The emotional depth of my computer time is Free Cell. I haven't even touched my laptop. (3) I'm still really sick. I have keep reminding myself, because I feel so much better, but there's so much MORE out of control. (from 2 to 4 is 100% improvement, but there's still 96% to go).

I'm staying at Joel's house, an oasis of peace, for a week - until my surgery followup end of next week. Then I will be home in Grass Valley, but (probably?) quite "laid up" and reclusive. I want to see you, just not right now, likely into November, until after I see the surgeon again. These couple of months are "all about me", for maybe the first time in my life. Thank YOU giving me that gift.

Visualize integration, imagine blending the scattered into wholeness, pray for rest.

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