I've been away from the coal face for over three months due to a succession of health issues -- including a dose of Swine flu which floored me. It has been so very hard to claw back to any exercise regime, let alone a routine of daily living.
Now, with a new dose of antibiotics inside me BD, I'm hopeful that I can look forward to recovery mode.
The way that chronic ill health saps your spirit is so very tragic -- even for me who is so very good at surviving chronic illness. But as the Terminator told the cop, "I'll beback."
The main thing I reckon is that in my grand scheme of things I've always got a exercise/rehab plan that is tiered to dove tail with my varying levels of physiological inconvenience. This is my great personal achievement, I think: I always have a plan. (That and Northside Boxing -- fulfilling the role as task master.)
While I did indeed fall a long way, maybe farther than I've done for years, and it was so hard lying on the ground looking up at that saddle so far above me, my deep sense of desperation is now fortunately behind me.
That struggle is not something I recommend but so long as you have somewhere to go to, another option to keep you buoyant, you won't sink for good.
Instead of sleeping, reading. Instead of walking, lying down, reading. Instead of exercising, planting vegetables, Instead of doing nothing, fishing. But I did do a lot of sleeping. Still am doing a lot of sleeping: morning, noon and night.
But as the dialectical mode so rules:everything passes bit by bit/Until you get the opposite. Or as the daytime soap informed us five days per week: "as sand through an hour glass so too THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES..."
