It's an odd sensation to have company when I'm in recovery mode. My hostess instincts scream "oh I'll get that for you" and "wouldn't you like something to drink?" but of course no one wants me to do anything for them, and in fact wants to get whatever I want, for me. So while I'm soaking up everyone's generosity I'm fighting an urge to feel like a lousy host.
I was sick to my stomach all morning, I think because I took medicine in the middle of the night on an empty stomach. It took me until early afternoon to get myself back on track with food and meds, and I was not a fun person to hang around with, alternately pasty and groggy. NOT my shiny, bubbly self. When they all sat down to eat lunch in the dining room, I stayed in the living room with my toast and tried to talk myself into feeling better while eavesdropping on the conversation.
But it was so nice to have people here, and I am getting into the flow of this spiritual exercise in humility. I couldn't bring myself to shower today, I completely chickened out, so Scott offered to wash my hair in the kitchen sink. It felt like pure, pure love. Afterward he combed it out gently and kissed me on the forehead, and I felt overwhelmingly lucky.
I'm trying to relax and not fret about how un-fun this process is, hoping that I feel better every day and that the days pass quickly. If I could blink my eyes and make it suddenly next Thursday, that would make me very happy. But, I'm feeling impressed with myself that I actually did this- and hopeful for the future, whenever it gets here. So, I'll try to sleep and rest as much as I can and be positive and see how things change day by day.