Days or weeks on end in bed until the pain and inflammation subsides.
Weeks on end in bed, knocked out cold.
Vividly dreaming.
Flying through one sequence after another.
Processing.
A little bit of “what I had and what I lost.”
But if only it were that trite.
I don’t even know what day it is half the time.
It’s 6:00, I bid you both good morning and good night.