Small steps by Marilisa

I've spent the last couple of weeks feeling a bit under the weather and too exhausted to do much, and am only just starting to pick up on my training again. I did manage to set an early alarm and go for a short morning walk - I'll need to do more of this as it's such a lovely time of day (not one I see very often, I'll admit). Especially at this time of year, with a little cool breeze, it just cleared my mind for the day ahead. And I only bumped into one of my son's nursery staff while out in my tatty, disreputable tracksuit bottoms, so it's all good.

Oh... so that's what this time of day looks like!

My feet did take me past another interesting place, in spite of not having covered many miles. I was in the hospital that treated me for HG (and where I eventually had my son) for an appointment this week. Without really noticing quite where I was going, I suddenly found myself standing outside a little courtyard with a garden - and froze when I realised it was the garden I could see from the window of the room I was in the first time I was admitted for dehydration. It was the first time I'd been admitted to hospital for anything in my life, and I felt lonely and scared and very, very ill. I reluctantly accepted the antiemetics, and between those and the fluids, I woke up feeling much better - still nauseous, but able to eat some breakfast, and almost like a human being. I remember so clearly looking out on that garden, daring to hope that maybe the problem had been solved and I could be well again. I even took a picture of it as I associated it so strongly with that feeling of hope.

The other photo I took was of my hospital meal. I will spare you the horror.

I didn't know, of course, at the time, that a few days later I'd be back in hospital, with another IV stuck in the back of my other hand. And that the second time wouldn't be the last time, either. 

So this week I stood in front of that little garden, and felt the fear and the hope and the yearning from that time flooding back. And I looked up to the windows on the first floor, and sent up a little wish that whoever was in that room now was having a better time than I was then.

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