Uncurling

A while ago, while walking towards the hospital door for radiotherapy, I had a conscious thought. "I feel happy." I had grown to like the routine, and meeting different folks in the waiting room. I loved the smiley radiographers. Every day they asked me how I was, not out of politeness, but because they wanted to know. Despite the oddness of the situation, I felt protected, as if I belonged to something. I knew it was going to be harder afterwards, and so it has proved. For the first time this year, I have slumped into a depression. It reminds me of the torpor of lockdown. I will get out of it somehow.