abrynne: (Default)
It's been pouring rain outside all day long. Perfect writing weather.

I've had the itch to write in the back of my brain for the past week or more. But my fear of diving into it again has trumped the itch so far. I'm not sure what exactly I'm afraid of. I suppose I've been away from it for so long now, it's hard to get up the courage to try poking at it again.

I went into the hospital at the end of March. It is now the end of July. Maybe it's the idea that my motivation is completely gone. I can't even come up with a reason to pick up a book and read it. What with all of this change in my life, I've been having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning. Sometimes it's difficult to see the point when all you do is sleep, try to eat, make sure to get your four dialysis treatments in (Don't forget those!) and then go back to sleep again.

Yet, there has been this itch.

And I still don't know what to do with it. I think I'm also afraid that this whole medical experience has sucked all of the creativity out of me. Yes, that may be an irrational fear (fear itself is typically irrational) but I've been trying to come up with a reason for my complete lack of motivation to do anything that I used to enjoy.

With that though, I'll just be talking myself in circles. I want to try waiting on it a little more. Writing was the only thing that I really wanted to do. Now, I'm very afraid that that's not the case anymore.

I've been living at the parents' house since May. It's been okay. I have my own little bedroom, where I've hung up some posters and where Becca also brought me a life size cardboard cut out of Jared Padalecki. He stares darkly at me from my closet. For a while I had a scarf wrapped around his head so he'd stop staring at me while I put my underwear away.

Living at the parents' house comes with the instinctive "helping out" feeling. And I try to when I'm feeling good. Mom has a hard time going up and down the stairs, so I've been doing more of the laundry lately. I'm kind of a weakling, but stairs don't bother me at least.

I've also learned a lot about Halo and other video games through Sean. He's let me play some, and while I'm not horrible, I would be a major handicap to any online team I joined. But that never bothered me. I just enjoy blowing things up.

In return, Sean's been watching Supernatural with me. He's never seen it before, so I've been very excited about getting him to watch certain episodes. We're in the middle of season six.

My treatment is the same as I stated before. I'm doing it at home four times a day. It's not bad, but sometimes it can get in the way of things. Cecily took me down to Ashland for some of the Shakespeare festival a couple of weeks ago and I had to bring all of my stuff with me so I could do my dialysis in the hotel room. Once we were there it was okay, but it took a bit of planning ahead, which I'm not prone to. We also had to plan out or days while in Ashland around the times I needed to stop and ... dialysize.

Hopefully it won't last much longer. Next week, I'm going to start training on this machine they call a "cycler" which will do my treatments at night while I sleep (Hopefully I'll be able to sleep.) so eventually I won't have to do anything during the day.

I'll still have my catheter that goes around with me. I know what I thought of when I first heard the word "catheter" but it's not what you think. This catheter goes through a small hole in my abdomen about six inches to the side of my belly button. The tube inside drains the old fluid and fills me up with new fluid for dialysis. The tube outside is about eighteen inches long. And I have to coil it up and tape it to me in order to keep it from catching on anything.

After having that tube for almost three months now, something interesting came to mind. I thought of that line that Tony Stark says in The Avengers. Tony points to the glowing arc reactor in his chest and explains that it's keeping him alive and then he says, "It's a part of me."

That's what my catheter is too. It's something artificial that was put in to keep me alive. And it is a part of me. It's nowhere near as awesome, of course. And I doubt I could power a metal suit with rocket boots with it. Regardless, it does what it's supposed to. And it's been part of huge changes in my life. It's a part of me now. Although... maybe if I ran into Tony he could think of something cool I could do with it. :)

Hm. Maybe that writing thing will come back after all.
abrynne: (Default)
I just read through my last post. Wow, that is depressing. Justifiably so, but still...

Instead of going to get my blood cleaned three times a week, now I do my treatment at home. I have to drain and fill my peritoneal cavity (It basically holds all of your organs. Yes, everybody has one.) with a special solution, which pulls the toxins and extra fluid out of my body. So I drain the bad stuff out and then fill up with a fresh batch every time I do it.

It took some getting used to. I started on this about a month ago. That was a really hard week, when I first began the training. But I got used to it. I'd say that's been the biggest idea behind this whole process, "You'll get used to it." I can't say how many things I've had to "get used to" within the past three months. But that statement has yet to be proven untrue.

"Home" is also very different now. I moved out of my parents house when I was twenty-four years old, back in 2007. I'm thirty one now, and back in the house with Mom and Dad, and the youngest bro, Sean.

Like with anything else, there are pros and cons to this transition. There is usually someone home with me, which is nice. (I've had a hard time with being by myself since I got out of the hospital.) Yet Sean takes over the TV downstairs almost immediately after coming home from work.

I'm really grateful though. I've been completely dependent upon them since I moved in here, Sean included. He brings the boxes of supplies into my room when I run out; Dad's taken over my car payment and insurance; and Mom's gone to every appointment with me, she brings me food and helps me with my laundry.

I would not be surviving without them.

What's frustrating though is I feel like that's all I'm doing. Surviving. I haven't written a single thing since this insanity began. I don't draw anymore; I just sit and stare at Netflix. It's understandable. But I can feel my brain getting restless because my body is still weak and requires a lot of rest.

I wake up in the morning, thinking of things I want to do. It's usually just simple things - wash my hair, put some laundry in, maybe get out my sketchbook - and, like yesterday morning, my body stopped me. My blood pressure dropped dramatically that morning, and I didn't even have the strength to make my bed. Cec had bought tickets for a One Republic concert ages ago, so I had no choice but to try and rest before it was time to go to the concert last night. Thankfully, I was able to go and didn't have a hard time. It was a great concert.

Maybe that's just what I'll have to do. I need force myself to get back into the things I liked to do. It's so easy to get complacent and just not care anymore.
abrynne: (Default)
Sean's coming home tomorrow.

The first thing that comes to mind at that thought is, "I made it!". And that's just for me, personally. Sounds pretty selfish, I know. But truthfully, when Sean left two years ago, I had a really hard time with it. Harder than I thought I would. I knew he'd be going. All of my other siblings have served missions. They've left and come back. I handled each one of them with a decent amount of stability.

But Sean is my youngest brother. We're eight years apart, and yet out of five brothers, he's the one I get along with the best. He always gives me a hug whenever he sees me, and exchanges writing ideas with me. We like the same stuff. He's willing to drag me along with him in video games, even though I'm an enormous liability.

I can't really explain what he is to me. I can only say that he is one of my best friends. And unlike best friends who share no relation to you, Sean is my brother, so I know we'll be stuck with each other for all eternity. :P

Saying that, it's kind of an understatement when I say that I've missed him heaps over these past two years. There have been so many, many things I've wanted to share with him over that time, but have had to sit on it until he gets back.

Now that he's coming home, I know it won't be the same at first. Each missionary on coming back home presents a different scenario.

You've got this person who has dedicated two years (or 18 months) of their life to the work of the Lord. They're used to getting up at at least six in the morning every day and doing service, or teaching, or finding people to teach. They're constantly on the go, and working very hard.

When this person returns home, they come back to their families and friends, and BONUS! a whole future ahead of them that is typically not really mapped out. The change can be really daunting. So it takes time for the return missionary to adjust to not having to work his or her butt off every day, and switch their brain around from setting goals as a missionary to goals they need to start setting for their own personal future.

It's all pretty stressful and traumatic, actually. I haven't experienced it myself, but I have witnessed it in my siblings, and it all happens differently for each individual until they get settled a little.

Because of this, I know that Sean will need some time when he gets home to adjust and get used to the idea that he now needs to get on with his life. It takes longer for some than others. And that also means that I need to stand back, or wherever he wants me, while he takes that time. THEN Cecily and I can pounce on him with all of the movies he's missed.

(Just to give you an idea, the first big movie he missed was the first Hunger Games. He's missed everything from then to the present. There is an abnormal amount of awesome packed in those two years.)

I'm just anticipating too much. I'll want to hang out with him all the time, and I know that I won't be able to, so that idea makes me a little sad. There's no reason to be, though. We'll have time. Cecily's also planned a trip for the three of us to go to Disney Land at the end of February. Again, there will be time.

I'm like an overexcited puppy, I guess - Standing in front of the door, staring at it patiently ...

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