So, it's 2335 eastern, Monday.
My body, in theory, thinks its 2035, but in reality I'd say it has completely lost the ability to judge the passing of this strange thing called... Time.
Mel and I have been awake since 0735 pacific, Sunday; and have been traveling since 0300 Pacific Monday... No point in trying to sleep for a couple hours late Sunday night just to wake up more groggy and disoriented, and then have to drive to the airport.
37 hours.
She's finally asleep. I've probably got a ways to go, because although most of my days are now good days in terms of pain, inflammation, and edema; days that I spend 4 hours driving and 6 hours sitting in the torture devices they amusingly call "economy class seats" (there's three lines in one) in airplanes are most definitely NOT good days for those particular issues.
Basically from the elbows down I'm one big inflamed and swollen sore spot.
However, it was still a good day in one very important way:
I was able to make my father truly happy for a few minutes; in a way that wouldn't mean much to anyone else... but to me, to him... it means more than I could ever say in words.
I'd gladly deal with ten times the pain, to be able to do that. To do it in a week when there is so much pain, and hurt and anger going on in my life...
...Well, no matter what comes later, this is now a good week.
Anyway, I'll write about it some time later this week, hopefully with some pics. For now I've got to take my diuretics so I can deflate the waterballoons I call my hands and feet; and some anti-inflammatories and painkillers.
Hopefully after a few hours... removing excess fluid... I can try to get some sleep, so in the morning (LATE morning, trust me) we can get a running start at all we need to do while we're here in Boston.
