A reversal of situations, my girl being up all week at a sordid hour, but she arrives, and I get up early, letting have the full bed to stretch out in and sleep sleep. Not to say I don't get up late through the week, though I do have a differing set of problems. My pain prevents me from going to sleep of a night, though not going to bed I guess. However, no matter what time I sleep, I'll try to wake at a time my girl would wake, part out of empathy, part out of retaining a sense of continuity and grasp on the real world. I want to say something forced and tacky like "What is the real world". Sounds like something Bill Paxon would relish saying at the beginning of some mid-range film. But that doesn't change it none. I don't feel part of the world ticking by, I feel like I'm sat in my own microcosm of a world, it hasn't changed, peripheral moments change, i remain the same. Doctors come and go, ideas, prognosis, diagnosis, treatment, nothing, hopes swell and become swollen and pushed down. I don't change, I melt.
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