Having gone over to Helen’s sister Janet’s house on Friday evening, for a meal and some enjoyably animated conversation, I am still slowly recovering from the minimal effort involved. Admittedly, I’d been having a bad day before we ventured out but, three hours of socializing (away from the homestead) requires a disproportionate amount of recuperation time. My bed rest requirement has reverted to what it was before I received help from the Chronic Fatigue Unit; the best laid plans have most definitely gone awry but, I’m sure I’ll get back to where I was without over exerting myself.
It really is strange how difficult pacing proves to be in practise; just remembering to leave some energy in reserve on the better days isn’t quite as simple as it sounds. I sometimes find I push that little bit too much even on some bad days but, the temptation is almost irresistible on the better ones. Even after several years’ acclimatisation, to greatly reduced levels of activity, one can’t help feeling that they should be able to manage more! My beloved keeps telling me that, in the circumstances, “there’s no such thing as should”, and I can even remember myself giving that same sort of advice to others, it doesn’t really help though. I’d never realised just how active a person I was, until I lost the physical and emotional stamina required to perform even some of the most rudimentary tasks.
Still, I remain grateful for what I can manage to do. I am loved and can love, have a caring family and the wherewithal to live in a pleasant environment. There should (whoops, that word keeps slipping through) never be any need to remind myself to give thanks; a day not started in thanksgiving is a wasted day – it’s always better to be able to express gratitude than to be submerged in lamentation.
I rejoice and give thanks in this day the Lord has made.