Lung shadows.
It was inevitable with covid, I knew that. So many similarities, the lungs, the treatments, etc. but today was the day that unexpectedly ended up as the day when the whole lot came viscerally back, unbidden. I was sat, trapped, with the unfolding detail, knowing what the next bit would be before it was spoken, before the photos on the phone were shown, before the talk of niv, before the talk of organ collapse, before the talk of the inevitable, and it just became a reliving. It’s not that it isn’t always viscerally there but it’s that difference about having no control over the unfolding and keeping that separateness and appropriate practice.
Once I realised what was happening it was okay in the end and I was able to keep focused on what I needed to but I was glad it was the end of the day and to break cover and get fresh air.
And then the most bizarre bit of timing. Having not heard from his daughter for ages I came home to her gift. Sometimes you can’t help but think there must be some other forces at work.

Later. More dreadful sleep and trying to be robust but it feels like being in the ring and the swift right hook that I couldn’t avoid or duck and I feel knocked out and flattened but now I need to get up again and do today. It’s too difficult to stop, even for the day. It buggers everything up and makes it hard to reshuffle and reorganise.
So it’s the wet sponge and the bucket of water.