Without my glasses, unable to communicate with a respirator tube down my throat, I peered out of the anesthetic. No recollection at all of the recovery room. Like a floater on a fishing line that at the waters surface I came and went.
First memories. I would literally sink a feeling I loathe when over tired. I couldn't distinguish it at first but at some point I did. Consciousness, then the sinking feeling where I could feel myself even dropping 'through the floor' of myself. There was no fighting it or the dreams that came.
Seem to recall a room. 4 beds. I was the only patient. Slowly it seemed to become like an ante room to a club at the hospital. I can still recall the table to the upper right of me. (lying down, feet forward, just for atmosphere you know.) Even remember them leaving keys, some sort of tape, and knife that I wanted to keep. The room clears I'm watching the keys. Consciousness briefly.
At these points I felt helpless. Every day I'd get a message from my sister that said; "she loved me very much and missed me terribly" It was irritating and annoying and I couldn't stand it. This was my daily contact for awhile. I just wanted to be told information, couldn't ask because of tube down my throat. Couldn't write yet because of hands being tied, yes tied. To the side of each railing. Not tightly or painfully, just frustratingly enough later on.
They were necessary. No explanation was offered if I ever tried to disconnect myself. And if so, when they explained I was to mired in the fogs to discern it all.
At another point I awoke in a tiny room. Seemed disgusting, remember a presence. The room looked like it was under construction. Off not far to my left was a solitary toilet. Very weird.
I will end this post here. Think you are getting the flavor of it.
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