I'm so high on you

Percocet. Percocet is a wonderful drug. The pain is still there, but it is substantially lessened. I drift in and out of slumber.

When awake, I reflect on how enormous my living room looks now that much of the furniture has been removed. Things were re-organized during my hospital stay. The main floor is now a minimalist space, where I have room to move about with my old lady walker or crutches while wearing my leg brace. I play on the Internet. I put final touches on my project, which will soon be submitted.

When asleep, I am at perfect peace. I forget that my knee is broken, and I dream pleasant dreams. If I move in my sleep, the pain is sudden and severe, and it wakes me. I try not to move much. It's jarring.

Mostly, I reside in a state of semi-consciousness. My eyelids feel heavy, and my vision is blurred. I could be right in the middle of something, and then I open my eyes and twenty minutes has passed. I did not sleep, but I just stopped what I was doing and ceased movement. It's rather disconcerting.

In these times, I converse with myself. Or with others. It's sometimes quite unusual. The other day, I lay still, eyes closed peacefully, and listened to my mother-in-law talk. She was telling me about a dream that she'd had. It didn't make much sense, but I was able to follow her train of thought as she told the story, moving swiftly from topic to topic, dancing in and out of subject matter as she spoke, just as she always does, her voice quiet and earnest. And while I listened, I thought about what a shame it was that she wasn't actually there. I was enjoying listening to her, and it would have been so much better had she been real.

Percocet. I highly recommend it.

I'm going to sleep now. Nighty night.