Raw emotions from my sick bed.

I am scared that I will never get my energy back. I am in bed so much. This current virus slammed me off my feet (not that I had gotten fully back on them since my last infection), all I can do is sleep. No appetite. Nausea. I wonder if I still have the CMV in my system, after all that I've been through recently. Today I got out of bed all of four times, taking just about 20 steps to use the bathroom. One time I ate a bowl of corn flakes because I'd get [more] nauseous if I had my meds without something to eat. Thankfully I can drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I remember the day that my fate was sealed.
The day that I met with our surgeon/friend to arrange my hernia surgery, five and a half years ago.
I met him at the emergency room, but I wasn't an ER patient; it was a time we had set up by phone for me to come in because he'd be there then. He led me to an exam room (a room which I have seen many, many times since then, always aware of it's history) to briefly examine where I believed I had the hernia. I coughed to demonstrate the hernia, and he agreed to fix it.

We left the exam room, returning to the ER, and he gave me a small white "fill in the blanks" sort of paper; maybe 3x5 inches or so, with my surgical date written on it, signed with his official stamp, to give to my health clinic.

Then he accompanied me out of the ER to my car. It was a beautiful sunny clear April day. We chit-chatted. He asked me how the baby-business is going (my doula work). I told him I love it, and I am soon leaving the orchestra to do it full time. It was all very positive that day.

That was it.
The rest is history.

He often appears in my dreams. Sometimes as a positive character, and sometimes... less positive. All the times that I have seen him since the surgery and the NF, it is always a mangle of confusion, hurt, and that part of me that wants to spill it all out at him and make him hear it. When I was in the hospital three weeks ago, he popped in to see me, and he told me he was purposely "keeping his distance", "for my sake". He came to check-in, wanting to be helpful, maybe 3 or 4 times (I do consider that distance, considering that I was there for 8 days and there are two doctor's rounds a day). It's not at all hate that I feel. I don't know what it is, though. Call it complicated.

When my physical immune system is down (like now), my emotional one is, too.
All this "viral" sleeping recently, often accompanied with headaches and nausea, has brought many strange and disturbing dreams. How can I get this doctor to just step out of my unconscious?
I need a stronger immune system for that.

I want positive dreams, I want to see the good, I want my energy back, limited as it was.
Please send positive thoughts and prayers for the goodness to come back.
Sarah Rachel Bat Tova.
(and while you're at it, please add in Tova Bat Sheindel, my mother, who has a longer way to go to regain her strength. She still cannot get out of bed- in a hospital bed at home- since her septic infection over a year ago). I have been thinking a lot recently about what it means that my mother and I both experienced horrific septic infections. Both of our personalities have been transformed.

Maybe it is all for the sake of our mother-daughter tikkun.