While the rest of eastern Massachusetts was out in the sun, we stayed shrouded in deep fog all day long. We have had that experience before, some three months ago, figuratively of course. It has been very easy to stay in that fog and there is a certain degree of comfort in not seeing far beyond one’s own place. On July 14 we became the center of a very small universe, a little foggy place.
As I am going back into the world, and soon quite far into the world with my trip to Kenya, I realize how small our world has been the last three months with everything and everybody revolving around our well being: the attention of friends and family, the attention of doctors, the health system, work; everything aspiring and conspiring to make us feel better. It was a great success.
Sita and Jim, the first to be at our side after the crash, are now also leading us out of our fog. They are still a great help, and wonderful to have so close, but they are no longer jumping up to attend to our every wish. They have a life of their own and that needs their attention first. What comes with the desire to be normal and part of the world again is the necessity to give up this place of privileged attention; we try to stop talking about ourselves and inquire about others; we try to stop complaining about our aches and pains and ask others about theirs. All you readers out there, are you well?
Having asked that question, let me tell you more about us and our aches and pains then. Apparently there is such a thing as too much exercise. Axel has stepped up his exercise level and had a bad night with many interruptions and needing a muscle relaxant in the morning. I have maintained my exercise level (3 sets a day) but with my added mobility it turned out too much. We went for a walk up our driveway, first to the right to the Merrill’s driveway and then to the left to Masconomo street; a distance of at most 400 yards. By the time we walked back our pace, and mine in particular, had slowed to a crawl and our uneasy gait increasingly visible. When I arrived an hour later at the physical therapist’s I was in great pain. She packed me in hot packs and then proceeded with the usual ultrasound and gentle massage. That helped and I emerged out of the session feeling nearly brand new; new enough to participate in dinner preparations: I did the Swedish meatballs, Sita the potatoes and Jim the vegetables. Axel was out on the town, hanging out with the guys at the Manchester club.
Sylvia's Journal 
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