I've been gone for so long.

I was listening to Dr. Dre's I Need a Doctor, because I'm hip like that. I sometimes listen to whatever those young folks are into, when I'm not listening to the public broadcast of classical music on my way to school.
Anyway, this song has a lot of lyrics. They kinda mumble, since they're rappers. I only know the chorus, which has been stuck in my head all day.
It runs like so:

I'm about to lose my mind
You've been gone for so long
I'm running out of time
I need a doctor
Call me a doctor
I need a doctor, doctor
To bring me back to life
Bring me back to life
Bring me back to life

And that's pretty much what happened today.
Right after surgery, I was so relieved to be alive that I couldn't think of anything else. Relief, and being tired, and frustration with my new physical limitations. Stress for finishing the quarter. Stress about how much of a burden I've become for my family and loved ones. I'm really good at independence, and I'm pretty sure I hit the double portion of stoicism. I'm too tough for my own good, and I never really relax when people are taking care of me.

Anyway, vacations, reconnections, the start of a new quarter. I've been drinking too much. I haven't been eating. I'm not sleeping well. I've been so focused on just being alive that these weren't warning bells for me. I was so angry with myself when I couldn't carry my pathology book, so mad that I made myself do it anyway. I pulled my incisions open again. I drank so much I threw up. I put my belly button ring back in, even though I knew it was too soon. It got infected. I pulled it back out and left it on the counter. I put on three outfits this morning, ironed each piece carefully and hated myself in all of them. Now, belly button also injured and late for work, I had no time for breakfast. I forgot my tea on the counter. I had to do 65 mph to get to work on time. Couldn't refuse the shift, I missed three weeks of work and it was an opportunity to almost completely make up for that.

So here I was. Continuing Education form collector and question answerer, designated to sit in on all of the lectures for this conference.
What conference?
Oh, the women's health, libido, and fertility conference.

Yeah, maybe I should have thought that one through before volunteering to come back to work this weekend.

But anyway, I'm sitting through these lectures, checking people in, giving them their notes, answering their questions, fetching extra batteries for the damn projector clicker/pointer thingies.
And I could just feel myself starting to crumble.

It's the third lecture of the day. I'm checking this older guy and much younger girl into a talk about a holistic approach to infertility. I've already checked him in to two other lectures, so I'm familiar with his face, and his cell phone habit (I hope it was client related, because it was super distracting to watch him walk in and out the whole time.)
Anyway, he jostles this girl's arm. Her handwriting shoots across the page, one which I'll be typing in to a computer, and so I'm annoyed already. The girl turns to him and says "stop it, you're such a bastard." They continue on, and it appears good-hearted for all of its negative connotations and language. These two people clearly know each other. It's a small community, that's bound to happen.
But this guy looks up at me and decides that I should be included in the banter.
And he says (I shit you not, these are his actual words) : "Don't ever have kids. They're so ungrateful, they never give you anything back, they're just a drain on your resources and energy."
And the girl, in the background, says "Dad, stop being such a jerk".
And I'm dumbfounded.
He's still looking at me, like I'm supposed to contribute to this conversation.
The only thing I can think to say is "I just had a really traumatic miscarriage. I'm only a couple weeks out of surgery."

Which, let's be fair, shut him up really fast and also called him out on some insensitivity that he probably hadn't intended. I hope he apologized to his daughter, but all I know for sure is that he apologized to me. Also, he was really quiet and considerate for the rest of the lecture, finally.

But I just couldn't quite get a grip on it for the rest of the conference. I had to leave my presentations and go cry in the bathroom. I was watching the final (nonCE) presentation with a friend, and another friend came up and asked me how I was doing, and I burst into tears. My boss let me go home, and referred me to an acupuncturist that has really helped him through some emotional problems.
My friend took me out for drinks (and french fries. mmmmmm I love french fries)
and we talked for like, three hours. About how awful everything's been, and how I just can't keep it together, and I'm too stressed out, and how I hate being so much of a burden on everyone (ironically). And also about life, and some about roommates and religion and philosophy. There was a little balance there.
And now I'm pretty well transitioned into seeing how I've been gone from myself for so long. and that I need a doctor, call me a doctor, I need a doctor, doctor...
So that's my plan for tomorrow. Get stuff set up at the clinic on the ND and CCM side. Get therapy started up. Start playing the violin again. Start really dealing with the grief and lingering depression and anger. Think more positively about myself. Try to be patient with my recovering body. Slow down the negative self talk. Try to get some sleep. Be more conscious of how much I'm drinking and really slow that down, hopefully back to the one to two drinks I usually have per week. Try to be graceful to myself.
That's the plan, anyway.
Fortunately, I'm surrounded by doctors, doctors, doctors, every day. That'll help me remember to at least try.