Covalescence–You Don’t Miss Your Water

Thanks to everyone for your kindness and concern. I’m feeling much better. And that is great. Or is it?
Convalescence is a limbo. In a way, being sick is easier–it is unpleasant, terrifying, passive, and marked by (insert your least favorite symptom here). But it is without choice.
In my twenties, I took a raft trip through the Grand Canyon.For days on end, we could not see the entire sky. I liked that! Even in my youth I knew a certain kind of unlimited choice wasn’t good for me.
So I can stand up without the world spinning. And note that the beautiful thrashers in the cholla cactus have indeed hatched babies who are now fledglings. Was the neighborhood always this fascinating? This funky? Decrepit? No sooner am I standing, than I have an opinion.
Buddhists and seekers pay good money for silent retreats that focus on mindfulness. Actually a recovery from a bad flu or a case of strep throat or vertigo or somesuch will work just as well.The self dissolves, focused in the present of illness. The body recovers, the self kicks and screams, realizes the floor is dirty and that it has not had any COFFEE for an entire week.
And on to the next thing. No longer do I thank God for my legs. No longer does my family seem like angels. Oh no, I want not just coffee but a grant–and probably to get my way in everything.
It does not help to remind myself there are people in much much worse shape. I have a list of those I worry about and a list of those I’ve outlived. I’m not in Darfur (insert your most extreme scenario here.) No, invoking these things does not instill instant gratitude.
This has happened to me before, and I am sure it will happen again.