Sunday, July 3, 2016

Low Light

It's coming back. Slowly.

I almost felt good today. The chronic ache of the torn tendon had died down; my brain seemed to be taking an interest in visitors, going out,  making contact with that buzzing, chaotic world outside my modest bedroom, kitchen, and living room. All of that has seemed beyond me, and, honestly I was, and am, uncertain that I will ever again function at the speeds necessary to my work life.

That's  a scary thought, one I run away from, deny.

Although I don't yet feel up to the task, I had a passing desire to teach in the fall. That was a shocker.

Two months ago, at the end of the spring semester, I was toast, beyond toast, a cinder. There was no way I could have dragged my sorry butt to the front of a class and done anything more than blubber. I was, and still am, in bad shape.

The injury,surgery, meds, and loss of fitness have all compounded my sorry state.

I was out of it, or so I thought, until I woke up this morning with no pain, a  clear head, and some hunger for something hard to do.

I don't know if it will last, but maybe I am not done yet.

Pass the coffee and eggs. There may be some miles still to cover before the light goes out.

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