On The Rocks

28. WAGs

   Being in someone else's apartment that didn't smell like a florist - is refreshing. It is also great for the mind as the people around me help keep it clear. The room may be a little tense as we crowd the TV waiting for the Leafs to take the ice for Game 5 back in Washington but it wasn't a bad feeling.

   I sat in the corner of the white sectional and Stephanie sat on my left, separating me from the rest of the apartment full of the Leafs WAGS. Everyone had a margarita in hand but I had a water bottle tucked between me and the cushions. Since stepping into the apartment Sydney has been very accommodating making sure I had the most comfortable spot on the couch.

   I also noticed how the assortment of soft-er finger food is set much closer to me than anyone else.

If you told me this morning that I would be sitting in a crowded room, I probably would have done my best impression of an angry dog. My time has been equally split between sleeping on the couch peacefully and laying in bed trying to sleep. It seems that anytime I want to be awake I'm asleep and when I want to sleep I am stuck awake staring at my ceiling.

    The cycle of nightmares once alone in my room was starting to show as I became more and more sensitive to my surroundings and not in the fun superhero way. I found that light was too bright, loud sounds easily startle me from the number of nightmares that plagued my mind. 

So, Yes. I was grumpy as Stephanie would warn people as they walked into the apartment and all I could do was give her my best-unimpressed look from the cocoon of blankets on the couch - the only place I can find some decent sleep.

   The apartment had started to smell like a florist shop with the number of flowers that were delivered with notes from different Leaf players. The gesture was great for the first two bouquets but the tenth just started making us sneeze.

   Stephanie had to take control of the flower situation at that point as the sneezing was pulling on my stitches. One by one the bouquets were re-homed out to the balcony and Mitch had sent a team-wide alert to stop the flowers.

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  The morning was like all the other mornings since I got home - full of nothing much other than my dad or Dr. Lambardi / Dr. Z hovering over me as they examine the progression of my recovery. It's annoying but I know it's for my health but it's just a little much. They are here every morning at 8 am sharp before they head to their practices and actual patients.

  Dr. Z is here more for my mental health than my physical health as he has been my psychiatrist and a major part of my support system over the last few years. I've been able to bring up some of the anxieties I've had over the last couple of weeks as they're existing problems he's worked to get out of me.

The nightmares...

 I haven't been able to talk about it due to a couple of reasons both physically and emotionally. I'm still not allowed to talk at all to protect my healing throat and writing them down would make them more real.

   My dad has been making this bad habit of looming behind the doctors and making this face of pure pity that got deeper under my skin every day. I know he saw me as the broken 15-year girl I was not the 20-year old I am.

     When the doctors left and my dad didn't see them out like he usually does. I knew I wasn't gonna like what he was gonna say. He shut the door and hesitated before turning to face me. 

"I think it would be best if you went to stay with your Nonna," My dad said looking firm in his suggestion. My eyes bulged as the words left his mouth and instantly my hackles were up.