Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Dear Diary

6a: Wake up. Make coffee. Smoke. Decide against showering. It's too difficult and really only needed a few times a week. Take a Percocet.

7a: Wheel down to cafeteria and snag a frozen cup of OJ and a warm yogurt.

705a: Eat leftover bacon from a friend's visit on Sunday.

8:45a: Wheel to the hospital. Occupational Therapy: Get arm warmed, then manipulated.

9:45a: Smoke.

1045a: Physical Therapy: Walk. Get tired. Get limb and stump checked. Walk a few more laps. Check for an available exercise mat. They're all taken. Pop a Percocet.

11a: Washington Redskins Cheerleaders arrive. Several people comment how they should put some clothes on. Soldiers on meds equals no sex drive. Politely decline teddy bear. Twice.

12p: Yoga. Share a laugh with the amputee soldier on the mat next to me when the instructor suggests Downward Dogs. Lie there comatose. Point out to soldier he isn't doing many of the moves, and he points out he came there to nap.

1p: Smoke. Check Blackberry. Try to fit four wheelchairs with Marines and myself into one elevator. We accomplish. One Marine is high out of his mind and keeps yelling, "Lemme outta here! I'm gonna vomit!"

2p: Therapy. Question your survival and suggest dying would have been f*cking easier. The therapist tells me a psychiatrist who has seen me in the MATC is "worried" about my attitude.

315p: Smoke. Catch the shuttle back to Mologne House. Soldier in the wheelchair next to me doesn't speak. Idiot. He must be new.

3:30p: Eat everything in the tiny refrigerator in my room. Then devour the chocolate people have brought me.

4p: Chat on phone to connect with outside world. Wondering when I can go to bed.

5p: Smoke. Sunny, breezy and cool outside. A soldier complains, "This is shit, man. The steel in my bones is freezing." He wheels inside. And I am left alone.

8p: Full moon. Stunning. The soldiers and Marines and I sit outside and talk about our Methadone addictions.


GatorGirl said...

I don't even know what to say...your days are so full of frustration, but there are days that make it all worth while. Remember, you are an inspiration to those who are not as strong as you. As far as your attitude goes, that doctor ain't seen nothing yet! We love you...

Marianne said...

You are not alone, girl. Maybe the shrinks would be happier if you were a zombie, but until they've been blown up, they should shut up.

Katie W said...

Just want to say that I think about you and what you're going through every day. My friends and clients that I've told your experience to ask about you all the time. Seriously. You have an incredible amount of love coming your way, from people you don't even know. I know it doesn't make it all any easier, but I hope it at least raises those serotonin levels a bit. :)

love you lots,

Moonpie said...

Anyone who has read Sunday's NYTimes article knows that they would be happier if we were zombies. I am so angry they didn't tell me about the withdrawal...7 DAYS LATER

Tamsin said...

OK, celebrities I get, politicians and even sports starts I can see what they could add to the mix - but cheerleaders? What is it with the cuddly toy fetish that people seem to have? Chocolate is good for the soul, keep eating it and the ice-cream. I know how hard you are working and it is painful and slow. Hang in there. This withdrawal thing will pass. You have kicked harder habits. Big hugs from Brussels, where you will make it back one day soon. T

Howard said...

Cami ... I think you have a GREAT attitude. You and Warner can go outside for regular smokes on M Street ... We love you too and and are looking forward to having you around more and more.

Don said...

Not sure if this helps, but this is the best writing I come in contact with on a regular basis. As others above have stated, there are a lot of people in your corner. Probably useless now, but willing to help if possible. Best fucking wishes...

Moonpie said...

Thanks. :)