Detached from Time

As some of you know, last Wednesday I underwent carpal tunnel surgery on my left wrist. My recovery has gone quite smoothly, and my pain is pretty minimal unless I’m not thinking and do something stupid like turn a doorknob. The surgery itself went very well, I’m still not used to anesthesia though and closing my eyes and waking up an hour later still unnerves me. This time though it totally discombobulated me from the passage of time. I was able to listen to music during my procedure and when I went under I was listening to a specific song. When I woke up afterward, you guessed it, the same song was playing again; given the fact that my brain was still loopy from the drugs I had a hard time realizing the procedure was over. Not even the reality that I was no longer in the operating room and back in recovery could make me believe my surgery, was in fact, done. The very patient post-op nurse finally had me look at my hand and upon seeing my mummified Oompa Loompa hand (thanks Betadine) did my brain de-fog enough for me to realize that it was in fact over. Lying there in recovery, I found myself thinking about how being unconscious whether during normal sleep or during surgery, we become detached from time itself. Minutes and hours become meaningless, we just exist in a stream of time where nameless moments pass without our knowing. These deep thoughts were soon replaced with the gnawing in my stomach reminding me that I hadn’t eaten in 12 hours. I ate something, they monitored me for a while longer and then sent me home to recuperate.

The Post-It Woven Patchwork

Slowly…slowly… I am losing my mind

I can feel it happening, one thing at a time

Like the sands in an hourglass

Slowly slipping through.

Falling into some dark abyss.

I don’t want to bid adieu.

To all the times in days gone by

Whether good or bad.

They are still my memories

And losing them is sad.

So now I’m obsessively writing

Jotting everything down

Every thought and memory

Scraps of paper now surround

This little spot I sit in

With my paper and pen

So when memories are no more

I’ll be covered in them.

Like a post-it woven patchwork

A wondrous little covering

I’ll be wrapped up in them

And old memories I’ll be discovering.

Thoughts on Time

foggy clocktower by osman-rana

Photo by Osman Rana on Unsplash

 

Time is a curious thing.

It moves along towards

An unknown future in its

Own direction and pace.

Perception of time however

Can, all at once,

Speed it up to a

Blink of an eye

Or slow it to the

Speed of a snail.

The power in the way

We view the world

Around us,

Has the ability to

Change time’s

Tempo and cadence.

Bending and twisting it

To fit our hearts’ needs.

To soothe our aching souls.