Guess I should probably update this blog. Air my feelings, get catharsis and all that bullshit. It makes sense to stay in touch, though.
I've been staying in London, with Sanna. It helps both of us, I think, having someone there who wants to help. It's been tough, adjusting to my hand being gone, and just having someone else to turn to has... helped seems like too small a word. Not enough to cover the amount Sanna has done for me. Thank you, Sanna. I don't say that nearly often enough.
Speaking of the hand, it's been rough. Still feels like there's a hand there, which doesn't help. I still look down, sometimes, and think maybe I'll see something, maybe this was all a bad dream and I'll see a hand down there. It's so fucking stupid, but I almost feel disappointed, when I see it. I'm a fucking idiot. It's amazing how much a missing hand can fuck your balance, too. Stops you bandaging yourself up. makes it hard to open bottles, cans. Just these fucking little things, every day, and I just have to deal with it. I'm feeling a little cooped up, in my own body. If that even makes any sense.
I should probably get a prosthetic, but theres something in me that doesn't like the idea. Feels like it'd be making it official, I guess. Having a clumsy false replacement. It's stupid, and irrational, but I still haven't got in touch with anyone. a bit of cowardice, I guess, but isn't that allowable, after so long?
I shouldn't be complaining. I'm still alive, for one. I can still help, still have the resources to rent a place to stay. Have a roof over my head. And I have some of the best friends anyone could ask for. I'll survive this, and come out the other side.