… or how to call days or weeks since the last time everything was “normal”. Well, “normal”, what it is? “Normal” for me does not necessarily mean “normal” for others, including close relatives … and what am I actually talking about? Family status? Working? Being on holiday? Helping someone? Health problems of someone else? Mine health problems?
The last is now true for me.
Since my last post I pushed myself to help a family member while moving, but my body started to complain. Quietly at first – I think it knew before I set up on the trip, then louder … eventually I ended up in the hospital.
I feel lucky, that I was able to drive myself to my doctor, then to the hospital. I feel lucky I have a good doctor, that sometimes does not listen to my “I’m OK” – I was booked for a check-up for driving licence. I feel lucky my dog was staying in a place I trust, although it is a bit further away. I feel lucky to be in good terms with my extended family – they live closer than my kids and were able to support me “here and now”.
I’m glad my kids supported me online, but I wouldn’t ask them to move closer because of me. We moved them abroad when they were just kids, of course they grew up, studied and matured abroad when we didn’t return after planned one year and a half. They also have a good knowledge of English I didn’t dream of at their current age. I grew up in the Eastern Bloc 🙁
So now I start a new stage of my life, getting used to everyday medicine. Still feeling lucky, because I have two choices in the morning – get up or not. This may not sound funny for you, but in the context of my life it is 😉