Recovery, Part 1

I feel the need to write. My life has changed. It's different. But it's still exactly the same. I'm still lost. I still have no direction. I still have choices to make. I'm still confused. Indifferent. Vague. Scared.

But I'm not scared. I had a tumour. It's gone now. It might come back. I'll deal with that then. Now I'm dealing with my recovery. It's slow and it's hard. It's frustrating. Not being able to do simple things. Like get out of bed by myself. Not being able to lie down by myself. Having to sit in the same position every day. Not being able to stand up straight. Not being able to walk more than 200 metres at a time. Not being able to sleep. Some times being unable to bring myself to eat anything. Do anything.

But it's still better now than it was before. I was scared I wouldn't wake up. I was scared of waking up after. The pain. I'd never been to hospital before. Now I've had major surgery.
I got through it. It was easier than I thought it would be. Physically. Emotionally, it was harder than I thought it would be. I'm willing time to move faster - begging it to fly by. I want... I want to do more than sitting at home day after day. I want to feel useful.