Saturday, January 2, 2010

A Strange Day

Is it possible to have a day when nothing happens?

I wrote here about the oddly blank days I've been having lately, when every sensation is muffled and cushioned by the pain medications I'm taking. And it's not just the sensations coming from outside me that are dulled, but also the ones that come from inside me, and are the prickliest.

For example, the laundry room is bursting with unwashed sheets and towels; the Christmas tree is begging to be taken down; and the dogs are eating straight kibble because I've run out of the home-cooked stuff. Normally, just one of these items on my list would either drive me into action or drown me in guilt. But today I have done nothing but sit snuggled in afghans and stare out the window at the falling snow, napping, reading Trollope, then napping some more. I have not fed the birds. I have not taken the dogs for a romp. I am, in fact, still in my pajamas.

Outside, the snow keeps falling. It has been snowing for days. The driveway, plowed this morning, has disappeared again, and I can barely see the outlines of the vegetable garden. The lavender bushes are completely covered up, which is good, because the snow will protect them from the severe cold to come. Inside--inside me, that is--a kind of snow seems also to be endlessly falling, dulling edges, covering up the prickly twigs of guilt that normally spur me into action.

Snow outside of me, snow inside of me, I have sat by the window and, for an entire day, nothing has happened.

Except that Bisou threw up on my afghan.

10 comments :

  1. I call the week between Christmas and New Year the week that doesn't really exist. Mike takes the week off from work, the girls are bored with break, sometimes it is bitterly cold and we don't leave the house...it doesn't exist.

    But I have also had days as you describe, more numb and dull than just cold and boring.

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  2. I feel so bad for you Lali.....did you hurt your back?
    I have had back problems and they are awful.....
    Right now I have a different problem, I have shingles in my ear, and up my facial nerve..it is very painful,and I have a ton of meds.........I wish you the best.

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  3. I think Bridgett has a point -- today didn't exist. Tomorrow things will be better.

    (And you did do something today: you commented on my blog post which always makes me smile.)

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  4. it is amazing, isn't it, how incredibly powerful those little tiny pills are.
    i'm sorry you're in pain, but dear if you're in enough pain to take one of those powerful pills, then you're doing *exactly* what you're supposed to be doing: nothing. resting. healing.

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  5. The pills seem to be putting you into the state of "oblivion" right before "ohio". Now you can view all the pain, guilt, anxiety and decide which one's you want in your life. Enjoy the snow it is providing a beautiful blanket. Throw the afghan in the laundry pile, it will wait until you feel better, grab a clean blanket and stare out the window. Love Dr. Dona

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  6. I am so sorry that you feel so blah. Sometimes I feel invisible, just an observer of life but not of it. I know the cold and whiteness certainly contribute to your sense of nothingness. It's very cold here too but no white, just brown and grey with occasional sun peeking through. Remember? Plan a trip here for March since the silly daffodils start dancing and the crocus push up to watch them:-)

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  7. Bridgett, tomorrow school starts again, no? So there's hope for us all.

    Hilary, shingles! Yikes! That is supposed to be the worst. It's the adult version of chicken pox, isn't it? You have my sympathies.

    Dona, my pleasure, always....

    Laurie, and those powerful pain medications work on more than just the pain. They interrupt the pain-tension cycle, and actually make it possible to heal--spoken by one who is feeling better!

    Dr. Dona, you're right, as always.

    mrb, crocus, daffodils? I'd forgotten about those. Thanks for the reminder that spring is (really and truly) on the way.

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  8. Actually, the beautiful nothingness made a rather lovely post, and there I was in an all-poetic mood, and you completely set me up for your punchline. Bravo!

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  9. This must be what hibernation feels like to the bears.

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  10. IB, yeah, Bisou set me up too.

    Alison, but they don't have to get up every six hours and take a pill.

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