So here I am, nearly 8 years post coma, most of those 8 years have been a blur of conflict, exhaustion, paranoia, covid, death, more death, then more again. And more.
And I am still, still pinching my arm to know if this is my reality, or am I still in another nightmare from my coma.
My lack of sleep, my mental health, enforced surgical menopause, I find myself sat here again, with dogs dominating my life, running out of time trying to save lives.
Yesterday was an horrific day. I felt the overwhelming sense of despair again. It ended around 4am, and around 5am I dropped off for 1 hour of restless sleep.
I don’t know what is real anymore. I feel myself fading bit by bit with a rapid crescendo on the horizon ahead of me, speeding towards the brick wall I can not yet see.
Trauma counselling didn’t work. Bottling it up didn’t work. Drugs are no longer working. When even I can see I’m running on empty, you know that warning signal was flashing to my husband months ago whilst he begged people for help. And none came.
sorry for morose post.
I don’t think people read my blog anymore. Why would you. Time is a figment of my own delusions, after all, when you’ve been in hell, in a coma for 80 years, what is another 8 of waiting for purgatory to cease?
Life is just a ride according to Bill Hicks.
I am feeling nauseous on this ride now and would quite like the ride to stop soon, or at least slow down so I can stop feeling dizzy.
Coma recovery never gets easier. We just lie better.
People expect us to be over it by now. But when the recovery is still mental torture, emotional anguish and a desperation for life before coma, we try to appease our friends and family with smiles and nods and yes, fully recovered when every sinew of one’s being is screaming “am I still in hell or is this bit real?”.
I didn’t blog over covid. I couldn’t. The mental torture and terrifying thought of being possibly put into another induced coma meant I begged my husband to let me go if I caught it.
I am not alone in feeling this way. You’re wife husband son daughter brother sister who nod and confirm they are fine but it fails the sniff test, ask again. And a 3rd time.
because we will not tell you. But you will see it in our eyes that millisecond of blind panic when we question our own existence and ask ourselves, am I OK, no really, are you sure?
and we internally scream “no” but we politely say yes and nod and carry on with only 1 of us now feeling worse than we did before.
we say we are ok. We are not. Keep asking
one day they may tell you what is really happening in this, their not sure altered existence which may, or may not be real.
comarecoveryblog 