Day 5 after surgery feels pretty much like day 1. It's untethered to tasks beyond the bed and bathroom.
I wrote that last sentence and ran out of steam. Noticing "I" am inside, waving my hand through the ether to grab onto another word only to find emptiness. And feeling flat about that. A state of being powered on but in standby mode.
In this physically diminished state what I've noticed over the past week is the daylong concert of birdsong. I'm unable to pair what I hear with the bird type, but there are at least a a dozen types of songbird singing their hearts out. And of course the wild turkeys and crows, oh my god the CROWS. Those assholes like to get started loudly around 5 a.m. and squawk for at least 90 minutes. At night I hear screeches of Barn Owls, eerie punctuations in the dark. Sometimes I hear Great Horned Owls giving the classic hoot-hooooot.
When I sit really still, I feel my blood pulsing rhythmically through my body, and I notice the force is enough to shake my head minutely, a small vibration.
I wrote that last sentence and ran out of steam. Noticing "I" am inside, waving my hand through the ether to grab onto another word only to find emptiness. And feeling flat about that. A state of being powered on but in standby mode.
In this physically diminished state what I've noticed over the past week is the daylong concert of birdsong. I'm unable to pair what I hear with the bird type, but there are at least a a dozen types of songbird singing their hearts out. And of course the wild turkeys and crows, oh my god the CROWS. Those assholes like to get started loudly around 5 a.m. and squawk for at least 90 minutes. At night I hear screeches of Barn Owls, eerie punctuations in the dark. Sometimes I hear Great Horned Owls giving the classic hoot-hooooot.
When I sit really still, I feel my blood pulsing rhythmically through my body, and I notice the force is enough to shake my head minutely, a small vibration.
My heart says hi. hi. hi. hi. hi.