I just thought for a moment that I would like to share a memory with you. One that I remembered the other day when visiting my grand father at the hospital.
He is doing okay, btw, so for the rest of this post you can rest assured he's quite well.
However, as I walked into his room, it all felt very familiar. And here's something strange: I do miss it sometimes.
I miss the sence of how I was doing a good job for just being fine. I miss the professional care taking. It feels a bit strange, really.
I still remember all the scents, the lights and the was things sounded in those rooms. It all felt so real and close, and I think that's some of the things I miss the most these days. That closeness to the body and everything.
I remember waking up after the surgery, thinking it was just another monday and I was supposed to get up for school. I also remember the relief when someone told me I could sleep a little more. I don't think I ever opened my eyes at the recovery area, where you're being checked on and woke up.
And so, the glorious moment of finally waking up, in a bed, in a room and with an overwhelming need to throw up...
These are some of my memories of a time almost eight years ago.
I lost some weight and couldn't walk properly for about a month and a half, but for some reason I do miss this. And I honestly don't understand why.
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