A Dazed and Confused Stupor
Had a bit of a disconcerting experience yesterday; still plagued by post-surgery fatigue, I laid down at four in the afternoon for a nap. I slept like a stone until 7:45. When I woke I asked L to make coffee.
She thought that was a strange request but complied anyway. She said I am out of milk and that she would walk down to the corner market and get some in the morning. “A strange thing to say,” I thought as I sat perched on the edge of my bed, sipping coffee, “because it is morning.”
Finally, I said, “This is Sunday morning, right?” She answered, “No, honey, this is Saturday night.” I asked her if she was certain of that. She said she was most assuredly sure of it. I did not believe her, which was precisely the way I reacted when paramedics rushed at me on January 31 and told me I had “an incident”: total mistrust. I finally recalled that I had gone down at four for a nap but the incident bothered me for a bit and it still does. It was that same dazed and confused stupor I was in after the mini-stroke.
This morning I woke with a cold, and little funds remaining on Paypal for both coffee and cold medicine.