A week of regaining consciousness

General anesthesia wipes me out. So do narcotics of any kind, and I refuse them very early (as soon as they start to wear off.) It took me weeks to get the drugs out of my system when I shattered my elbow in '96, and the memory of the nightmare still gives me a kind of emotional vertigo.

But I recovered quickly this time - healthier going in, I guess. And now, all week, I've been regaining consciousness. Today I sit here at the computer first thing in the morning again. My head has popped out of the water at last, and now all the ideas and thoughts and little sprouts that have been sprouting in my interior's summer woods are all within my grasp again. That's what it feels like - like I've just resurfaced into my inner self. Not bad! Not even a full week yet, after all. Surgery was on a Tuesday - this is only Monday of the next week.

Today I am going to send off my acceptance of the minuscule financial aid I qualified for. Three credits a quarter are better than none, says I. Loaned money, I have decided, is better than no money, as well. For now. And only because it's such a small amount. It's progress.

Being actively in the program will also put me in the position of a current student, with a transcript filling up, and therefore a record to look at when I apply for every scholarship in the universe except those I obviously do not qualify for. (My parents never worked for Kienow's, after all. And I'm not in the Business School or the Music department either.) And meanwhile, every paycheck I get that could pay for a CLEP or DANTES test will. I can spend the three quarters of this school year seeing how many undergrad credits I can get out of the way. That too is progress.

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