Stories - FD Thornton

Another summer morning babysitting George again. All the swelling in my belly has my back hurting, so I pulled out my daughter’s back massager working on that. George is pouting, because I won’t let him finish chewing up the plastic he pulled out of his toy. I thought I had quit raising youngins years ago…I guess I was wrong. At least he’s quit brooding now, because he’s back over here now laying across my feet. It is so deadly silent in this house. At home Lisa or someone has the TV or something going all the time. At the moment all I can hear is the massage pad humming and George sighing because he’s bored. But, I kinda like bored. It’s beats the alternative of hearing nothing but noise. Now don’t get me wrong, I love and appreciate my family. But every once in a while, it would be nice to not have someone barge through my door while I’m working. Apparently, they missed the class on knocking.   But for some people they live for the noise, they can’t stand the silenc

Worry and fear have taken over my mind of late. My usual escapes music, reading, and mindfulness; don’t seem to be helping. So I get my rest where I can, in naps and mindless web surfing. But in those silent hours of the night, I find myself awake and exhausted, just like the “good old days”. I’m afforded a lot of free time due to my physical and mental condition. But the exhaustion and fatigue are still real. I’m a pretty good actor when it comes to putting up a front and being “happy-go-lucky”. But the mental strain is still very real and getting harder and harder to disguise. I write this for all of you that understand. Who live each day in dread of the next. Hope can sound very empty when the lights are out and you’re all alone. Still it’s funny, knowing all the answers and all the snap out of it cures. But all that feels so meaningless when the clouds overhead show nothing but rain.  

It’s 5:19 in the morning, I’ve been up a little less than an hour. I slept well considering the problems I’ve had lately. Getting use to the new found reality of lacking a body part is tedious at best. But we muddle through. It’s seems the surgery team spend a great deal of time preparing for the surgery.  But precious little time with the true after effects. My gastroenterologist hasn’t called or set-up a follow up for after the procedure. I sort of get the impression they are done with me. I mean I like the team alright, but they are the worst jugglers I’ve ever seen. Never able to keep more than one ball in the air. But a long time ago, I learned you got to keep up with your own shit, when it comes to your health. So I check my own vitals, take my medications, and back up all my own medical records with peer-reviewed research. Yes, I’m one of those patients.   I know this sounds rather boring and I’m sure you give up looking for inspiration after the first paragrap