1. On warm, muggy, summer nights our parents let us stay out to play long after dark. We rode our bikes in and out of the pools of light cast by the streetlights. Light, dark, light, dark, alternating as fast or as slow as our legs would pump. Today reminded me of that, in and out of comfort, light, dark, light, dark. If I remembered to keep track of the time and took another dose of meds before the previous one wore off, the pools of light merged together.
1.a. Steve caught me looking at the clock, a little confused and counting on my fingers. I don't remember what he asked me, but I recall snapping back that I was keeping track.
2. I was distracted from the pain and felt better if I moved around and kept busy. So... I painted a door, scrubbed two bathrooms, washed the floors, did four loads of laundry, washed the sofa slipcovers, baked cookies, walked the dog, fixed a light dinner, typed up study notes, and more. It was a major fail at bedtime, though.
3. I think it's funny when people ask me to rate pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I always ask if childbirth is included on that scale. Because that's a game-changer if it is.