Dreams, they're for those that sleep.

This morning I puked for the first time since surgery. Um, three days after the fact. That doesn't seem right. I'm alone in the house now, after an afternoon and evening of lovely visits from guests, and I can't keep my eyes focused or my train of thought in line. I'm tired of being stoned. So tomorrow I wake up sober and plan to stay that way through the day. Except for arnica. I thought the vicodin was helping the nausea/dizzy spells but now I'm pretty sure it's causing it, and I can't handle it. I've also just reached my saturation point where my body is tired of having chemicals inside of it. That might sound weird, but it happens to me sometimes, with cold medications but also alcohol or caffeine. I will drink lots of water and do lots of deep breathing and hope I don't have too much withdrawal or bad reaction. Frankly, I'd rather have chest pain right now if it means I can have me brain and stomach back. I'll deal with the itchy and strange discomfort of the drains and tubes for one more day, if it means no more shaking or room spinning. Being high isn't fun anymore.

Well, except for when I get comfortable and I can sit and stare into space and be perfectly entertained for half an hour. But those moments are coming fewer and further between.