There’s that moment, just after having been flat-lined by a wicked cold or the flu, when you know you are on the mend, even though your energy is still low: a restless impatience to be ‘done with it’ so you can get back to life. I find myself feeling that way often, only I don’t have the flu and am in my second year of being ill. Emotionally, it is the hardest thing about being sick – the driving desire to ‘get over it’.
I could blame it on spring – it is far easier to be home-bound in the inclement weather – or, maybe it’s that any day now my daughter will be giving birth to her second child – and I can’t wait to hold that precious new bundle.
Or maybe it’s the way my new doctor listens and explains and sets out a plan of action that has me feeling like a horse at the gate waiting to get back in the race. Perhaps it is hope boosting my adrenaline, picking me up by the shirt collar and setting me back on my feet.
Whatever it is, I am no longer content with the usual distractions, my mind reeling off possibilities, my emotions bubbling just under the skin.
Change, I have long known, is the only certainty in life. I’m ready for it; can feel it coming.