slowly standing
So, yesterday I didn't feel godawful in the morning for the first time since the pox attacked me. Through the day I didn't get worse -- every previous day had been a cycle of barely coping and complete incapacitation. I got a few things done with a degree of briskness, then cheer. I felt myself bobbing my head to music again. I felt . . . not well, but better. All day.
In the evening, I cautiously went out and met Velma at our home bar two blocks away -- she'd had to work till nine -- and queitly sat, catching up with friends, trading illness stories, just happy to be able to be out, and approaching normal again.
Last night I slept through the night. This morning I am no worse, maybe better. I will take it slow another day, at least; I still have some lingering symptoms, and I want to be sure. But I think I'm just about back. And I have, oh lord, a week and a half of obligations to address.
But first, breakfast.
In the evening, I cautiously went out and met Velma at our home bar two blocks away -- she'd had to work till nine -- and queitly sat, catching up with friends, trading illness stories, just happy to be able to be out, and approaching normal again.
Last night I slept through the night. This morning I am no worse, maybe better. I will take it slow another day, at least; I still have some lingering symptoms, and I want to be sure. But I think I'm just about back. And I have, oh lord, a week and a half of obligations to address.
But first, breakfast.