Baby doll, I am lost too.

There's a process that the chemicals in one's body go through in an accident or a trauma. First is shock. Adrenaline makes everything rather crystal clear and it kind of goes in slow motion. Clarity and a kind of excitement. Vividness. Attention, acute awareness. You can kind of get addicted to it, there's a power to it, and simplification. Crystal clear focus on the thing before you and no attention to anything else.

Then in a few minutes the pain kicks in. You start to hurt. This stage is probably more of a smarting hurt or a sharp hurt, but could be a throbbing. All physical, though.

The upsetness, the emotional aspect, maybe a delayed feeling of fear, doesn't come on for about an hour. That's the tears.

And then there's the especially horrible, unfun stage, this could be a couple of weeks into the recovery. You're just sick of it. There's no excitement, there's no clarify of focus, there's not the fun woozy out of it feeling from the pain drugs. You're out of the hospital and at home, it's dirty, your dishes aren't done. Your bandages are grimy, your cast is starting to smell. Your arms ache from the crutches and you worry that you're doing your posture or muscles or bone structure some permanent damage from walking or sitting favouring the good side like that. Your friends have gone back to their lives and won't help you. You can't sleep properly. Food loses its taste. You don't think you'll ever drink again, or dance or laugh or drive down a road just to see what's down it or be attractive to anyone ever again.

Maybe that's the phase I'm in at the moment.

The best cure, I suppose, is to take a damned shower and clean the dishes and tidy up and put everything away, just get some beauty and order and grown-up-ness back in your life.

The ultimate cure, of course, is just time.

___

Out my window I can see a tower with four red lights, two of which (top and 3rd one down) blink on and off regularly. Just a coincidence that it looks just like a shot out of Lost in Translation?