#7 August 2005

Yesterday my physical therapist came to my room. He said "Lets go to walk up and down some stairs to practice." I agreed, and we went down this set of stairs and at the bottom there was a door, so he said "Hey, lets go in to here." It was the gym and he made me work out. What a mean little trickster. He knows I hate working out so he gave me a little fake-out. Meanie. I complain about him so much but my parents keep making me go. Its not like the things he has me do at the gym are hard but its frustrating because all I want to do is stay in my bed. But I get why I have to go-- I shouldn't just stay in bed my whole life.

And he head Dr. of this brain injury unit comes into my room at like 7:00 AM every morning with the widest eyes and he's so chipper and he's says "Good morning Bree, time to wake up!" And I want to kill him. I hate to wake up, I always have. They say I do all my healing while I sleep, so why don't they let me sleep more?

I just want to go home. I think I'll be fine if they just let me go back home. But oh no, my parents don't want me to go home yet and the Dr.s say I have to stay. I don't get why a Dr. has the right to tell you if you can leave or not.


My dress came while I was in a coma. I found pictures of it online and I called to find out more, but it was around $2,000. I've got better things to spend my $2,000 on so I sent pictures to a tailor in Hong Kong and took my measurements and sent those to them too. It was only about $200. Yay for me! Too bad I can't wear it yet.