Lifting Fog.

A day or so short of two weeks post surgery and I’m starting to ease into this better version of myself I always emulated to be. Easing might be a tad pretentious; let’s go with down right thrust. I signed my life away then stepped into this ninety degree waterslide into the pitch black for about three hundred hours. After the drop I plunged deep into uncharted waters that have swallowed me up whole. And when I came to the surface today this upgraded baptism became complete.

I hadn’t slept more than two or three hours a night for the first week and a half after the surgery (on day twelve I finally connected the dots to the “pain pills”). After sleeping like an nine month old newborn last night the cobwebs are starting to clear. I have been operating lifes heavy machinery in a fog for as long as I can remember. Year after year. Attributed to both sleep apnea and substance abuse.

Now here I am two weeks dry and thirteen days apnea fixed and I couldn’t be happier. Sure, my chin is still numb, my throat black and blue but at least the swallowing pain is on its way out. The tunnels end light is becoming blinding and its warmth is like a blanket, congratulating and holding me. Twenty five pounds of extra flab has been stripped off me and though its only half of what I want to drop it’s most definitely something. I dissalow it back on.

I will, soon enough, write about other topics. I’m pretty certain this is the last full posting dedicated to its ongoing present memory minus the occasional reference, of course. This is monumental stuff, I believe it to be so. Larger than I can currently understand, to be frank. One doesn’t just happen into something like this. In those last twelve or so hours before it went down I gave honest thought to throwing in the towel. I knew it wasn’t really an option for me but I liked that I had that power.

Would I do it again? Hell no. No chance. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone either. But am I grateful I let it go down? Yes. I’m looking forward to properly thanking the doc who fixed me next week. Being on this side of it all I can’t look back and laugh but I’m glad I didn’t chicken out. I’d be stuck in the same spot I was trapped in forever and with one foot in the grave.

Everything is shifting. Everything is changing. The way I was living is dead and gone so now I start to rebuild. The healing is done and all has been stripped away. I am clay to be molded. Canvas to be splattered upon. This lifting fog brings a wave of fresh air the likes I maybe have never seen and I am so down for it.


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