A beautiful day. I put the box with the pain killers back into the medicine cabinet. It's been 48 hrs now without and I tiptoe out of the bathroom. Careful now, no lifting, no running etc. they said. For a couple more days at least.
Eventually this will pass, this feeling of being delicate, fragile, not quite whole. Not yet. I pull the deck chair to the most overgrown part of the garden, where the bryony has almost covered all of the bramble hedge. Its little yellow blossoms are teeming with bumble bees. I look up into the summer sky and my mind opens wide.
Once upon a time when I took health for granted, my days were full, like a doctor's appointment book, slots of 10 minutes max. The things I could stuff into 10 minutes, shower, breakfast, laundry, rain gear, lunch box, cats, quick phone call, whatever. Now I am a 30 minutes person at a stretch. Some days it works.
The blackbirds in the garden are fearless this summer, hopping around me, picking raspberries and twinkling at me with their little shiny eyes. The cat pretends to be asleep. And I will pretend to be healthy.