Dear Body,

I know that the past few weeks we haven't been at our best. I'm still not sure what happened down in the nether-regions. Either IUD needed to have a nap, or Lady-Parts got sick of its presence and decided that the best course of action was to absorb it like an alien from a John Carpenter movie. Either way, there's been a lot of pain for the past few weeks. Yesterday I shocked you by actually taking one of my Norcos when ovaries decided to remind me that they were still pissed off by all the upheaval. It wasn't a good afternoon for us, was it? Stumbling around the house drunkenly and not even for a fun reason. I know you were grateful for strategic application of heating pad and I appreciate you working with the Norco to help me stop feeling like wolverines (not the hot kind) were gnawing on my squishy bits. I admire your spirit.

Also, Brain, I know that we've been experiencing a lot of pain, but is it really necessary to assure me that it is for the WORST POSSIBLE REASONS? You can't help that we didn't know what was wrong and I know that you dealt with it the best you could. You amped up my OCD so that I could convince myself for small periods of time that if I flicked the lights on and off the right number of times, or washed my hands enough, everything would be ok. However, I don't appreciate that after I found out about surgery you worked overtime to come up with every horrible thing that could happen during the procedure and stacked them ten-deep into both my waking and sleeping moments. Since then you have allowed Depression to get his lying, manipulative hands on you to convince us that we are worthless and fail at everything. Body is broken because I am broken, right? No, Brain, that's enough. The pain was real and for a real reason. You have the picture the nice surgeon drew you to prove it. It is natural that you were scared by all the new pain, so let it go. You have to start resting. You have to start letting Body sleep at night. Surgery is done, Husband is no longer traveling, Election is over, and books will get written (especially if you get rest so you aren't useless (no offense) during the day).

Furthermore, body has informed me that there are now seasonal intruders on board. Throat is swollen and pissed off about it. Head is hurting. Nose is jammed full of goo. Overall temperature has started to rise. In other words, we are getting sick. Brain, it is time for you to calm down, slow your roll, and let Body rest. I do not want to have to take you out with Nyquil, but so help me, I'll do it. You know me, I hate ultimatums, but it's time for the line in the sand. Body has been doing the best that it can, it is time for you to do your part and let it rest so that the invaders don't win.

Also, I don't have time to be sick. So work it out, all of you. Play nicely or I will Nyquil you. So there. 

Love, 

Sentience