I've known of course that I have been very, very ill in the last months. It's hard for me to really comprehend, because my memories are getting more blurry by the day. I picked up a notebook that I used to journal in after I came home and couldn't remember feeling any of that, except for the horrible, intense, unending anxiety. I'm mainly looking at that stuff because I'm trying to make a list of questions for Dr. Brain, things that I can know are in place whenever I'd need hospitalized again, because as things stand I have a huge dread of that, even though I also have a great understanding that it may be needed sometimes.
Anyway, I have a new idea of how sick I was. Dr. Mind was very, very sick last night. He came in for one visit. Me. And he didn't even make it through that. And he called off for today also.
I know that this says a lot about how much he cares and how much he wants me all better. And it shoots my trust of him higher than ever before because clearly he's there if I need him.
But wow. I still can't believe he did that, and I still can't believe I've been sick enough to make him feel he had to try.