I’ve gone quiet. I ran out of things to say, because I hadn’t been anywhere or done anything, and it hurt. Things are slowly improving.
After several sickeningly unpleasant sneeze-clunk-click moments on Thursday and Friday, the ribs were definitely doing better. Nothing popped or grated or shifted around when it shouldn’t for a good 36 hours. I stopped being Grumpy Mother, and began to take an interest in life again. The ribs stood up to a taxing day of crochet, chips and cake yesterday, so when I woke up to bright sunshine this morning, I thought it was time for an outing.
I caught a bus to Disley, and walked slowly and carefully around Lyme Park. The world smelled of bonfires and fallen leaves. It was less wild than I’d have liked, but at least I was out in the fresh air. That first mile or so was bliss; by the second, I was uncomfortable, and realising I wasn’t mended yet; the rest of the outing was rather tortuous and I would probably prefer to forget it, but I was too proud to beg a lift back.
I’ve realised quite how much of my self-image is bound up in believing I can throw a map and lunch into a rucksack, and head out of the door for the day to walk as far and as fast as I like (I keep remembering that long walk up the Northumberland coast…) And it’s scaring me that right now, I’m not able to do that…
I’m sitting very still now, doing a little quiet crochet, and hoping I haven’t made things too much worse, as I’m quite determined to go to work tomorrow.