just one day

Spring is just around the corner. The spuds are in the ground. Pulsatilla, almond trees and the little quince tree are busy flowering. The hedge is greening and the blackbirds are messing through the compost. Sitting outside for my solitary lunch today I spotted a butterfly, a painted lady (Vanessa cardui) just like the five we released last summer and decided that it had migrated back to us. And why not.

I am in a strange place. Hovering in between my spectacularly crashed house of cards, aka rehabilitation program, and the dreary reality of upped meds and a week of diagnostic testing ahead of me incl. hours pretending to read meaningful literature on my phone in waiting rooms.

In other words, the immunologist suggested I was not exactly fit enough for three weeks of six hours/day of physio and massage and jogging under water and whatnot and gave me the sternest of looks across her monitor and a short snappy lecture on treatment priorities and the dire potential of my current display of B - symptoms.  Of course I crumbled like a stale pretzel and almost apologised.

Part of me feels like a fake (what if these symptoms are only figments of my imagination?), while the remaing pitiful rest is trying to run away from admitting that I may have asked for too much.

That whole patience stuff? I'll never get it.
Whereas R - bless him - insists that I have been here before and will crawl out of it again,  successfully (with the help of the next round of monoclonal antibody therapy).

Meanwhile. I cycle along the river. Thirty minutes (or 6 amazing km) at a time pushing against the wind.  I may not be able to walk with two legs but who cares. Keeping up appearances. My mother taught me as much.

PS. I am not in pain any longer. Not really. Just finished week 12 of sick leave and the German health system based on the principle of a society of mutual solidarity (as opposed to charity or lottery or profit margins) is paying 90% of my salary. However, the required paper work is incredible. Who reads all these forms? Is this meant to be a new form of therapy?