Props

by Hilla Duka

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I've kind of put off writing a new post since my last rant, thinking that I'd wait until I could do a more positive life's-all-good post. In hindsight, that means I should have written it last Friday lunch. I woke up Friday morning, aching everywhere and feeling as if I was about ninety. And finally felt like enough is enough. Full of motivation, I got my yoga mat out, went through the parts of my normal routine that didn't mean I had to bend my knee very much (ok, so basically I went through about four poses, but still). Then I did all the exercises that I've figured out how to do with an aching knee and an ankle that can't really manage pressure. And did them again. And again, until I was sweaty and breathing hard and hating myself and loving it all at the same time. In my head, I was Rocky. You know, when he's all out of shape, and then decides that he's going to get so fit he can fight the scary blonde guy? That Rocky. I could see my way forward, and it would be rough and I would have to learn to walk further than 600 meters in one go but dammit, I'd do it! And when I got to work, I could feel my muscles complaining from my morning-rocky-attack on them, and man that made me proud! And this is when I should have written this post, because then it would have been all upbeat. 

 

But since I waited, I later that day found myself in a really interesting and important meeting suddenly wondering why I was so cold.... And in about twenty minutes I went from Rocky to man-down. Serious man-cold, and basically it was all I could do just to get myself home and to bed. And for the past week, that's where I've been. Previously it has been debated whether man-colds are worse than child birth. Let me just settle that for you: Unless child birth lasts for a week (mine took 12h tops), the man-cold is worse. So my new Rocky life has been postponed. But, trying to look at it on the bright side, at least now I finally have that fighting mentality back. I'll get back on top, learn how to walk stairs like a not-two-year-old again, and get strong and fit again. I just need to pause it right now and wait for the coughing and the phlegm to stop. 

 

And as praise should go where praise is due, the picture is of my kids. They drive me mad at times, but this week, they've been the best caretakers in the world. They've brought me tea and blankets, they've got up by themselves, and given me hugs when I've been down (though staying well clear of the face area - I really don't want to have to have them go through the same thing). And when I'm coughing like a dog they pat me on the back. Even in their sleep. Let's just say, this week - they've made up for some of those sleepless nights they gave me as babies. Ah screw it, let's just call it even!

 

And to put a positive spin on it, one thing you can actually do whilst too ill to rise from the sofa, is draw little woodland creatures enjoying some of my favorite vices. Hence, this blog got a new look, with a pipe smoking rat and a coffee drinking chinchilla. 


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