42 / Independence

Winter is closing in and I find it hard to resist an atavistic urge to hibernate.  I haven’t yet sunk into a state of torpor but I can feel the effort - as the recent irregularity, and number of guest posts, published on this blog site bears witness. Conserving strength.

This is not the only activity I am having to review, or curtail.  Gradually I’m obliged to reassess other daily tasks. For example, one of the most unwelcome side effects of this disease has been episodes of nausea or queasiness. My love of good food has been severely tested at these times. I’ve found it a strain to accomplish the routine job of cooking for myself and our son. Even envisaging a completed meal, on a plate, has been difficult enough at times to tolerate.

However, just spent a period in respite care being expertly nursed back to well-being.  I’ve been driven to concede that I now require looking after. I am no longer independent.  Having been an active man all my life, self-reliant, self-determined, I’ve found this tough enough to accept.  At the hospice I was allocated a Zimmer frame.  I don’t feel quite ready for this yet.  Still mobile and steady enough on my own two feet.  My daughter seeing my mortification has wittily wrapped Christmas lights around the frame. Very amusing. 

The message on all sides now has been ‘pace thyself’.  I have to acknowledge I no longer possess the vigour to manage all by myself.  This includes cooking.  It seems that from now on someone else will be preparing all the meals.

Oh well,  at least now I have my appetite back again to fully enjoy them.

© Benóg Brady Bates


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