They’re now telling me I’m probably going to have some pain. Physical pain, that it is. On top of all this other pain. But at least I will be well again. I’ll be completely whole.
That is something else Kaleem has done for me. And I have to love him, even though he’s really hurting me right now.
Because of Kaleem, because he brought real doctors, good doctors from Zandra, they were able to operate on my back and I can walk and feel and everything, really. But today they’re going to take out the pain blocker. They tell me I need to feel the pain so I don’t overstrain the muscles in my legs and my back. Now that I’m mobile again there’s the danger that I might try to do too much. Do too much? I don’t want to do anything. Just sit here in my room and think about him. Think about him and imagine that we’re still together. We are still together. I’m a part of him forever.
This is sad. Really sad, and you’ll probably never want to read my G-Log again after I tell you this: I’m looking forward to the anaesthetic. That feeling as you go under that you may never come back. The complete oblivion. The trouble is, it only lasts for a few seconds and then you’re awake again.
No breakfast today, and I’m already in my rather elegant theatre tunic (joke!). I’m really writing this to take my mind off it. Yes, I’m looking forward to the oblivion, and in some ways I relish the thought that I might not come back, but I do admit that frightens me as well. Where do you actually go if you don’t come back? And if I do come back and something has gone wrong? I’m walking now, but if they make a mistake…
No. They don’t make mistakes. It’s a Zandrian consultant who is going to do the deed. I’ll be fine.
Oh. Here comes the nurse. Time to go, I think.