It has thrown me more than I’d have thought possible. It’s just an injury, he says, it’s not an existential thing. And it isn’t and many people are in pain and incapacitated by it their livelong day, but I am thrown. I cannot do the work I usually do, and if I can I am not sharp, not efficient. I am slow. Slow, slow, slow. I fight it. I fight what is and give myself pain by doing so. This is not wise. I know this. But there are good things. It arrived. She got it. I hope it gave her joy.
I didn’t hear my alarm. You needed the sleep, he said when he woke me. Yes, probably. I wake and wake shifting this way and that to get my shoulder comfortable. And its the grief that tires me too. There is so much. So no walk this morning. We will walk together later up to the top. I like that.
