In some ways it doesn’t seem like that long since I beat a retreat from my place of employment.
On the other hand it feels like a million years ago.
30 240 minutes ago, 504 hours, 21 days.
In the grand scheme of things it isn’t a lot, if we take 70 years as a measure we get 25 550 days, 613 200 hours and 36 792 000 minutes each. Obviously they are not that specific, some of us get much more while others get a whole lot less. We don’t generally get to decide.
21 days ago the overbearing weight of those numbers became too great to face any longer, the long hours stretching into the unending distance of that day forced a phone call to the doctor. Her estimation of my vocal delivery precipitated a visit in short order.
17 days ago a hastily arranged escape to my favourite seaside town brought the heart rate down and a measure of serenity to a very troubled mind.
But I cannot continue to run away there whenever life becomes too constrained.
15 days ago the first capsule made it’s way into my blood stream.
14 more capsules and days have followed in a kind of blurry succession, but the net result of remaining in my residential cocoon with limited interaction has been a tremendous improvement to the general mental wellbeing of this being.
Over these weeks there have been days that have shot by and minutes that have dragged but each one has made a difference.
Last night in church and elderly lady with characteristic forthrightness said that she thought “I was looking much more like myself.” I am not sure who I have been resembling of late but it clearly wasn’t me. I definitely couldn’t disagree with her as I have not felt anything like anybody that I recognised of late.
If it were possible to resemble an empty box that would have been a fair assessment.
I don’t mind too much being an empty box if it means there is going to something placed inside it in the future.
On the floor of my study there sits an empty box, it recently transported our new printer from a manufacturing facility somewhere in Thailand over the oceans to the shelf of our local electrical retailer. It had been gathering dust in the attic until the printer decided it wasn’t going to print wirelessly any more.
2 days ago it was recovered from the darkness of the roof space and will once again transport the printer to repair or wherever they send such items now.
Usually these boxes are single use items and make their way to the landfill after a few years of languishing in the dusty darkness. Like this cardboard carrier emerging from the gloom there is a fresh hope for me now. The encouragment of the signs of life returning appear to be poking up through the soil, if our friend at church can see something that I cannot, there is hope.
I don’t know how many days it will be until the effects of this illness cease to interfere. In the past it was always for a period of time and then there was a long time of relative freedom from it. Perhaps the reprogramming is taking a lot longer than I first imagined and is going a lot deeper than I ever realised necessary.
21 days after walking out through the security gate at work I will walk back in. I am not exactly the same as I was, hopefully this will be day one of many better days.