If you look closely at the picture you will no doubt conclude that I really should not mutter too much. Contained within it are a number of mixed blessings that help to get a frustrated being through the day. Books, magazines, chocolate, knitting, laptop and what is not seen is the coffee on the bedside table. If you have not guessed, I am flat on my back on the bed.
I am muttering because today I am chafing against the restrains that my body has place on the rest of me that would be rather be out walking in the woods or in some such beautiful open place. I miss it and my soul yearns for it.
I have decided that if someone asks how I am, the appropriate response will be, 'I am great but my body has a mind of its own.' Usually we get along together just fine even with the constraints that it has demanded over the last 18 months. I try not to be in conflict with it so that we can present a united front, supporting each other, but there are just those times that I can't be asked. Today is one of them.
I met a friend briefly for breakfast this morning. After walking roughly 2000 steps, I had that dreaded lightening bolt of pain flare through my hip and down the front and back of my leg. To say that it leaves me breathless is an understatement. The last few have transported me to a different reality momentarily and I come back feeling quite disoriented. Needless to say, the thought of placing my weight on my foot for the next step is not usually a very pleasant one.
This is enough of a challenge when it happens at home. Here I can sit or lie down. When I am out in the street it takes on a whole new meaning. I freeze wherever I am, on one leg and although I have not yet screamed and alarmed the locals, the astonished looks I get are priceless even if I can seldom appreciate them at the time. I am sure that my expression must be awesome. I am left stranded standing where I am on one leg until I have plucked up the courage to take the next step. I am grateful that this has seldom happened when I am crossing the street.
After one of these incidents, I play the sitting, standing, lying down game as no position is comfortable for long. Other times I have to retire to bed as I have done today and my view of the world changes. This all brings me to why I wanted to mutter. Yes, I love your sympathy and I am wallowing. Thank you.
Today, at the library, I visited an art exhibition' called 'It works both ways' combining the talents of an artist and a lady with cerebral palsy who can only communicate with her eyes. It is a display of pinhole photography and two short films. Her disability was barely seen as she expressed how she views her life. What an uplifting inspiration! It shook my looming depression away in an instant. If only it had banished the wallowing self-indulgence too but I do allow myself this sometimes.
However, I am gaining great new respect for people who are disabled or immobile in any way. What amazing challenges that they face every day and how little thought and respect we have for them. I have pushed wheelchairs and lived with the elderly and I still had little idea of what it is like. I am only experiencing a fraction of it now and it makes me grumpy.
So here I am lying on my bed. Regardless of my wallowing self-indulgence I am counting my blessings and if you are reading this, you are one of them.
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