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I am a day ahead on logs and a day behind in reality and my time sense never does this, god damn it.

Ah well, lots of firsts.

Stupid chest still hurts. This is annoying. Remember to breathe. It's like when I was on the iv magnesium when pregnant with the IT and they'd given me two 4 gram iv boluses. I couldn't move, I couldn't focus my eyes and I had to think about each breathe. In. Out. In. This after the fixed wing life flight where my stomach decided that airplane and magnesium were a fucking bad combination and I threw up like crazy.

In. Out. In.

Anger is not very good for my heart at present. So I will stay holed up and wait. Part of me really does not care, but the rest is trying to contain that part, the small child part, the howler, the screamer, the frightened dream weaver. The small child is not mollified but is held. Sigh.

That's what grundoon's spirit card that she gave me was. A card with a tired looking woman, either dirty or smokey or both, and a small child in her lap. Two or three. A child old enough to be scared and to know that if he and mama are outside at night in front of a campfire, something is wrong. It is not a camping trip. It is a refugee camp or they are running away from someone or they have left something. To keep the child safe. The child knows that he is not really safe yet he is still cuddled to his mother. He knows that for anything to harm him, it will have to go through her. And she will do everything in her power to protect him.

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