Ys

Seer of ghosts & weaver of stories

(You are very much not forgotten)

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by now you know / it's not going to stop
Ys
ajodasso
Saturday and yesterday were bad days. I started suffering some low-grade (in the grand scheme of things) complications that necessitated sending somebody out for various substances in hopes of rectifying the situation, and said substances just made me feel sicker. I understood this process wasn't going to be easy, but the parts of it I thought would be hardest are actually manageable, and it's the so-called secondary problems that are making it hell.

I don't know if it's the drugs or the exhaustion or my thrown-off schedule or what, but I'm dreaming vivid, upsetting things (see previous entry). I also woke up in tears this morning, but the situation was different; I was back in London, and I was behind one of the British Museum complexes where a number of collection items not on regular display had been buried under asphalt. You could see the occasional statue-top protruding into open-air (a soldier on horseback, the crown of a bust, and so forth). I was sitting along the brick wall that closes in this section, and I was about to give myself a fatal injection. Someone found me just as I was about to do this, and I asked them if they'd come with me; we'd be able to explore the things that had been buried, then, and never have to say goodbye again. Dying in a place means never having to leave it.

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My reaction to this is somewhere between Yeah, right and O RLY? You must be bored, LJ!Bot.

My habit of talking back to bots probably dates back to the time when it was cool to harass the likes of SmarterChild and some of the film-PR entities on AIM for fun.

*hugs*

I hope the complications subside as rapidly as possible and you get at least a poem out of this second dream, because it's a haunting image. But I am sorry you are dreaming of dying no matter what, because your body should remember that no matter what just happened to it, it's going to be all right.

It's the second dream in under a week that's caused me to wake in tears, so I'm wondering what's going on upstairs right now. I don't dream of dying very often, so clearly present body-trauma's tangled up in it somewhere. I was thinking this, too (that I hope I get a poem out of it).

I'm sorry, that sounds horrible. It makes total sense you would be having a strong emotional reaction to all this physical stuff (feeling in any way like your body has betrayed you is AWFUL and traumatic), but gah. I hope you recover as quickly and fully as possible from hereon. :(

My opinion on the matter is that my body let a vicious tentacle-monster grow inside it for like 15 years and then nobody thought to scan for the source of the pain till this summer and then it took them months and months of more tests and even an aborted first attempt at surgery back in August to get to the bottom of it *grumpy face* However, the tentacle monster and the relevant organs to which it had adhered are now G O N E, and from a calmer perspective, I'm relieved. Doesn't mean my brain isn't still harboring some strangeness over it, I guess, and over the annoying aftermath of actual successful surgery :-/

Not that our experiences will necessarily be the same in this of course, but I know the feelings of anger and betrayal I had about being diagnosed with cancer definitely reduced...not in their existence, but in their intensity, in how close to the surface they are. It is a really shitty process, though, and I wish I could magically make it easier.

Anything involving a problem that should have pinned down a long time ago and lots of incredibly unpleasant and invasive tests/procedures/solutions etc. is just bound to suck. In no way is my situation as severe as yours; extensive endometriosis, yes, but nothing came back cancerous in the labs. Your strength is admirable and inspiring <3

That's very kind of you to say, but I promise I definitely have not felt at all admirable or inspiring - or indeed very strong - through most of it! And while mine sucked, it sucked in its own way, and it sounds honestly like your situation sucks just as badly in its own way too. I hope one day you can give yourself credit for what you've already made it through.

*hugs* I hate those dreams where you wake up in tears - I hope you have better ones soon and that your health improves.

It always feels like the end of the world, doesn't it? What's so much more intense about those emotions in that particular headspace?

Disruptions to the body can stir up strange things, like the bottom layers of a normally placid lake. I find a lot of medications give me odd dreams, and if I'm lucky, they'll have images I can use in some way. If I'm unlucky, they can make me resent sleeping, which is otherwise one of my most dependable pleasures in life.

I hope I can use the images I've gotten these past few nights, but I'm also starting to resent sleep a little bit. No, resent the medication. I've so rarely refused to take painkillers when I need them, but I've actually not taken any in about 48 hours because I'm of the opinion I'd rather have the incision-site discomfort right now than deal with what the pills do to my head and to my digestive system.

How terrifying. I agree that if you are able to process it thorough writing somehow it may help. Sending positive energy and hope that the side effects dissipate.

*Hugs*

I just haven't found a way to write usefully about it yet; I hope that blogging counts as useful. I haven't done much proper blogging recently *hugs*

Blogging definitely counts! When you are feeling better it will come.

Terribly true. But if you woke crying, perhaps there is still more than one place you'd like to be...?
All my wishes, dear Bee.

This is strange, but I was in tears in the dream because there was a narrative level on which I knew it wasn't just a dream and that I wasn't actually in London; waking up just adds another confusing layer of meaning, i.e. shouldn't I be relieved that I'm awake now, when that's not always the case? Thanks, in any case *hugs*

Perhaps you are one of those works of art, half-buried, in-between two worlds, and choosing can be so hard. (*hugs back*)

It's difficult to acclimate to being part of a world that I have to be part of as opposed to one that I choose to be part of. That might just be the core problem of the past few years in a nutshell.

*hugs*

I can't believe I'm just now checking things! I'm sorry you had a rough time and all those weird dreams! Hopefully, it was the medicine--they tend to cause things like that. :\

*hugs*

Fortunately, it does seem to have been the medications. Since getting off the painkillers in particular, I've reverted back to pretty standard not-remembering-most-of-my-dreams-these-days status. Which is kind of sad in its own right, but if I'm regularly dreaming upsetting stuff, I would rather not remember it.

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