I think the spells of nausea (especially the big one during the early hours of the 28th, what a surprise, not) are gone now. I’ve had some oatmeal and not felt especially nauseous.
Some fine motor detail is still kinda lacking; I need a sharp knife to cut butter pats of appropriate amount for the baking (which I always do in precise amounts), and I’m a little too shaky for that. I haven’t handled a non-butter knife during recovery since a couple months into the Years of Zorn and Tharn, when I didn’t know that what I called waking nightmares were really PTSD episodes. I didn’t hurt anybody, I just sliced the tippy-tip-tip of my finger off. (It grew back, amazingly, but I suspect my fingerprint is no longer the same.) So, no bread. Yet.
Typing is back, though not at full speed, it’s also not disappearing on me much.
I tried making a shake (“Better than Milk” soy milk, although I think I’m sticking to almond milk in the future), but my fingers being what they are, splat.
I can walk for the most part without depending on guidance from the walls.
The acute memory of pain is gone. I don’t even know how the hell to explain that, and am rather afraid of the idea that even if I never have flashbacks again, they will never stop coming back.
I think I’ve stopped getting startled by sunlight and shadows, or at least, as much. Enough to keep control of a car, so I might buy some food later today, if I’m not still resting.
Nightmares have receded. My dreams aren’t exactly fluffy clouds and ice cream sundaes, but neither are they bad: they’re just very boring.
Boring is excellent.