Sitting reading, my attention is drawn away by the distinctive cry of a warbler bird, nested in the trees at the base of the MacDonnell ranges, I am aware of a great sense of contentment. I awoke without the blare of an alarm and could make a pot of coffee and breakfast at leisure. I have had time and opportunity to meditate, reflect and do some gently stretching exercise. My time is my own and as long as I heed the signals of my head and body, taking the right pill at the right time, resting and applying ice as necessary, I have begun to have days of little debilitating pain. Delightful days where my thoughts are clearer, my ability to cook and more importantly to bake is restored and I can see clearly the progress I have made on my pathway to recovery.
I no longer count the weeks since my surgery, always a sign that the emotional trauma is being released and healed. I still have many limitations but sitting at my kitchen counter near the open back door, feeling the cool morning breeze dance around me, I am happy and am feeling, not lucky but perhaps, fortunate. I have survived the worst of this experience and will continue to heal, become pain-free and have my function restored in those parts where it is missing. I know this because I have done most of it before and because I have people who love me and continue to hold me up as I put myself back tougher again. My contentment this day comes in part from the knowledge of that love and support. My husband is a marvel and I truly do not know how I would weather the storms of life without him. He understands me even when I do not, he holds my hand and passes tissues at those moments where tears are the only way left for me to express how I feel and he gets up early to the blaring of an alarm and despite his own tiredness and concerns, goes to work every day to earn the money that pays for me to be able to sleep, meditate, exercise and take the time I need to recover.