Last night, I gave Blood. I’m not gonna bore you with trying to conjure an entire blog post on the thing many, many people do every day without either thanks or thought. The church hall was packed, yet I’m reliably informed it was a quiet night. There’s a bruise where they inserted a needle that itched the entire time it was set, an appointment in February 2017, and that’s that. I’ll do this every four months, assuming I’m able, from now until I’m 70, because this matters. Change dictates that you must push past obstacles to become better. Remaining ‘the same’ is no longer a state I wish to exist in.
For now, I’m going to suffer if things don’t keep moving.
I’d like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who is supporting me in this shift out of many and various previously comfortable zones. It really helps to know that people are supporting your efforts, and in turn I’m doing my best to pay it forward. That means giving some cash to a friend who’s struggling because I have extra in my pocket this month. It is the conversation with my husband over e-mail that could have been a disaster but that ended up as a triumph. Most significantly, it’s my son understanding that finally he might have crossed a line that requires more than the minimum amount of effort to correct, and that this is the most encouraging sign of all in a week that I’ve not exercised in on medical advice thus far. I wasn’t sure how I’d cope with a pint less of blood in me, and on reflection I’m really glad I start my week on Wednesday. If I can do two walks this week I still will however, BECAUSE I CAN.
Having lost a staggering two and half pounds overnight (and having woken up starving at 4am, presumably as a result of my body creating more blood) the temptation now is to eat everything in sight. Even the word BACON is enough to make me salivate.
I’m gonna be healthy, and we begin again with PT tomorrow.