Wednesday November 22, 2006
It’s been a doze and doze again kind of day. Can’t sit still for more than five minutes without nodding off. I’m getting better, though, and there’s no reason not to give thanks for it. My eyes have cleaned up nicely, with the whites getting whiter by the hour and the blue/grey middle bit looking close to human once more. My sparkle is on the way back. My skin is clearing, too, looking less yellow and grey, and regaining a touch of elasicity. My tongue, well that’s best put away safe out of sight for another day. You can’t have everything.
I’m not getting much done, of course and Graham, thank goodness, doesn’t expect me to. Indeed, when he finds me puttering he’s rather inclined to tell me off. That does me no harm.
Although it seems to have been an age it has in fact been a short, sharp bronchial attack, with the emphasis on sharp. On Friday morning it hit me so fast and so hard I blacked out for a few moments and came to slumped over the arm of my chair and scratching at the carpet. I was proper poorly for some hours after that and it’s taken all my time and energy since to get back onto a normal footing. Haven’t felt that ill in a long, long time.
I find it strangely reassuring that these things can happen so suddenly and without warning, shutting you down so quickly you don’t know it’s happening. I don’t intend shuffling off the mortal coil any time soon but when it does happen I’d like it to happen just like that.
Morbid thoughts? Not a bit of it. There’s a poem that describes the way I think about this; problem is, at the moment, my poetry bone is quite fast asleep and I can’t call it to mind.
Hey ho. In a season when so many of my friends count their blessings I’ll name the greatest of mine. I’m thankful to be alive. I’ve had and continue to have a helluva ride and for that I’m truly grateful.