It has only been five days since I was admitted to the hospital. I say only lightly as it easily feels like 100.
I wonder how long it takes being stuck inside before someone actually loses it. I am in no way an outdoorsy person, and God knows I hate the cold, but what I wouldn’t give to just walk down the street, peruse the grocery store, take the dog for a walk in the park. Trapped in my little cubicle size portion of a room, no window and dreadful lighting may actually start giving me seasonal affect disorder since our room constantly feels like a gray, rainy day in the middle of November.
I understand why I’m here, but it’s like my mind, body, heart, and soul are fighting each other in an attempt to flee. Having a roommate was hard enough in university, and even living with Jas can be difficult, but we put up with each other since we know how to make it work. Constantly having to deal with someone else’s phone calls, visits, food, music, and personality makes me feel like I’m 12 years old again, especially since I can’t leave without permission.
I think the reason I am so absolutely desperate to leave is that I have myself utterly convinced that everything with the babes will be fine and they won’t be delivered until 32 weeks, so there’s no need for me to be here. Oh, and the curtains are just awful.