Recovery Room: The Deluge

I was cheerful and high.

The recovery room was not at all how imagined. It was communal. Instead of beds their were chairs. Looking back now i realize that it looked exactly like a nail salon. Two rows of oversized recliner chairs, silent women, and chatty asian ladies at their feet.

Every one was very quiet. When the nurse took my vitals she asked me how I was feeling I said “I am fan fucking tasticcccc… how are you my friend?” She chuckled and she said it was good to see me smile.

And I got excited. This was going to be a very rare, often coveted moment of self-actualization right? Where something so atomized understands itself entirely and it begins to bond to other atoms. We could all speak the same language now.

I sat back in the chair expecting all us sisters, we bloody, happy few, would make each other laugh and exhale out anxieties. I looked to my right and I saw the polish woman. I just reached out and grabbed her hand. I asked her, because I was zonked out of my fucking head, why she had an abortion. Through a lot of tears she told me that she was 15 weeks pregnant, had three children, and she just found out her new child was going to be autistic. And decided she didn’t want to go through with it.

She was sobbing. And I felt guilty for being flip about the whole thing. She wanted her kid. Shit, she had three more than I was willing to have. But then she asked me why. And I said I’m too young. And there was this slow groundswell of emotion inside my ribs that didn’t quite erupt but steadily spilled out. Like some huge block up that is slowly, but forcefully drained.

I told her about how scared I was, how alone I felt in this hell of a fucking city, and how difficult all this shit was with my partner. And we sat there dazed and sobbing. Speaking loudly hoping, I think, that others would explain how they were.

Jesus Christ. i am a fucking wreck as I type this. Not sure why.

Then a girl two seats away, black and stout said:

“Girl, this is my second. I don’t ever want to do this shit again.”

We chuckled.

Another girl came in named M____ . I recognized her and knew her name from the waiting room. She sat down and I immediately blurted out “M___, how did it go?”

“not great” she said cried silently.

I noticed that, except for one other girl who was passed out, I was the only one that was on a ton of fucking morphine. I decided I should shut up because who knew what kind of raggedy ass bullshit I was going to talk. No, transcendental sisterhood would have to wait. I rolled my head over to the other side and slept for about ten mins. Delicious, otherworldly sleep.

When I woke up the Polish woman had left and I knew I wanted to leave too. I was in too good of spirits to stay in such an emotionally charged room. I felt pretty good walking out. A little floaty. Went to eat a clubsandwhich with mom. Before i could sit down I puked all the morphine and stomach acid out. That was the end of my high.

And that was it. Aside from some mild nausea and weak cramps I was back to being myself. I spent the day sleeping and watching the Office with my mom. By monday my hormones were a little wonky but in all i just felt like this parasitic creature that burrowed its way into me and fed of my energy, apetite, and joy was removed. And I had been restored.