Earlier this week, our 16-month-old son grabbed my watch off the bathroom counter and in short order afterwards managed to break the band. Ordinarily, this would have been only a minor inconvenience, but in our current circumstances it's kind of like having lost the use of my left arm.
After doing a lot of hospital time and juggling meetings with social workers and other personnel this past month, my sense of time has become seriously impaired. I often can't remember what I did the day before, and sometimes, if I manage to take an afternoon nap, I can't immediately recall what I even did the previous morning. Everything merges into one long vigil, with the only real difference day to day being being how I feel emotionally before bed.
In other words, I've come to rely heavily on my watch to keep me somewhat aware of time's passing. Not having it on my wrist these last couple days has driven me to an anxious distraction. I look at my base wrist, and then I frantically scan my surrounding looking for a clock.
For the first time since this experience started, I've found myself questioning what day it is. Weekends are basically exactly the same as any other day of the week, so I don't really have a point of reference for the start or end of the week.
I spent most of today thinking it was Tuesday, and it's a good thing I realized it was Wednesday, because it's trash night tonight, and the Diaper Genie simply HAS to be emptied.
Posted by Ryan at January 26, 2011 07:24 PM | TrackBack
Stumble It!
