How many times can I use a form of the word "feel" in one blog post?

In the beginning, people asked me how I was feeling.  I could name my physical symptoms: headache, nausea, facial pain, visual disturbances, balance problems, difficulty with fine motor skills, and pervasive mental fog.  I had an acceptable answer to the question, especially if the person asking was trying to evaluate my recovery.

Naming my emotions was more difficult.  I didn't have any.

I feel nothing at all most of the time.  

The first time I cried was 6 weeks after the accident.  I was trying to convince my neurologist to send me to intensive inpatient brain rehabilitation.  It felt like I was fighting for my future without any weapons.  The sudden realization that I had no ability to determine my own destiny was soul crushing, and without warning I started to cry.  And then apologize for crying, because it's never appropriate to cry in your neurologist's office. 

I've cried only twice since then, and only briefly.  Both times it was for the same reason: the soul crushing truth that I had no ability to determine my own destiny.  It's a damn good reason.  I'm mildly surprised that I don't cry all day, every day...but I don't.  Even though I have a lot of other damn good reasons to cry.

Occasionally I have something that is akin to anger.  In the early weeks after the accident, I would have sudden flashes of anger born of frustration.  These flashes would last only a few seconds...not long enough for me to speak or to act on them.  Lately I feel something that is more like righteous indignation when I read about the injustices in the world.  It lasts for a few minutes, but fades away without an ability to act on it.

In 9 weeks, I still haven't laughed.  I tried once.  It sounded like a cross between a cough and a stutter.  Nothing is funny now, even stuff that I know on an intellectual level is funny.  I just can't connect to it.

I also can't listen to music.  Or sing.  Or dance.  I can't feel it.  

Sometimes I wonder if my brain is sequestering my emotions to prevent me from losing hope that I can recover completely.  When the strongest thing I feel is overwhelming despair, it's probably a good thing I don't feel anything very often.

I feel less than human.

* 8 times, not including the title.  That's also the number of times it took me to count the number of times without losing my place.  And I'm still not sure it's accurate.