Into week three post-concussion and the world still feels like a chaotic mystical dream. I’m still dizzy, wobbly and my coordination allows for a bit of wow, but first-person shooters are a no-go. I can’t aim. Control and speed is a problem and although I now have one back on demand, going slow and precisely or fast and sloppy is less than ideal for most things. I have headaches, bad ones, not the nightmarish migraines but dull, thumping pain that blunts my senses and shrouds my thoughts. I’ve lost weight and as a woman I will never complain about that, but I miss the guilty pleasure of gourmet chocolates, freshly brewed coffee, grilled chicken and fluffy rice, ice-cream. I can’t sleep when I want to or wake up when I should, but I have a feeling that that has nothing to do with hitting my head and everything to do with my love of the early morning hours when it’s defined as the few hours after midnight and my hate of early morning hours when they’re define as dawn or somewhere around that time.
It’s still been a busy time. Chris has been on holiday and we try to make best use of the time together. We go out, we polish up my computer, we explore all the local video game shops as gaming is more and more turning into a hobby that I can realistically be passionate about, unlike playing the piano or hiking. I tire easily. I fall asleep in the car on the drive home, in front of the TV after picking at my dinner and then mostly giving up and Chris lets me sleep. We’ve finally employed my very own personal assistant and it’s a new and exciting experience, but also a lot of work. I get a little stressed having someone around the house for a few hours every day that I’m not used to just yet. The cat on the other hand, is soaking up as much attention as he can suddenly having three people around rather than just me who will happily stroke, feed and cuddle on demand.
I do my physio exercises and it still hurts. I log into WoW a little more to prepare for the next patch. I spend a few more hours customizing dragon and my hardware setup so that I stop being tempted to type rather than talk. Social worker comes by, occupational therapist gets a little upset because I rejected the upholstered chair she thought would be perfect for me and I thought would murder my joints and trap so much dust that I won’t be able to breathe for a week. It doesn’t seem like all that much, but it feels like time is warped and it’s one thing after the next with very little time in between to stop. I drift through the day until it’s evening and as the day slowly fades into the background, I stop thinking so much about making sense of a world that feels loud, bright and spinning at warp speed. I turn on some music, the Halo ODST soundtrack at the moment, I track down treasure, arrows and PSI cards in psychonauts and tweak the GlovePIE script. I talk a little, day dream a little, stroke the cat and then it’s two in the morning and I’m hopefully starting to feel sleepy. From the outside, it seems like leisurely days, but from my perspective, it’s like the air is as thick as molasses and my brain is filled with cobwebs whilst the world is a theme park and I’m a little at odds with it. The secret, as always, is again probably that less is more. To stop trying to catch up and keep up and instead find a comfortable pace and a quiet corner. I think I can do that.