On Saturday morning, way too early, I reached over to lift my baby Nell, thinking as I did 'This is a really bad idea'. And so it was. Something went pop and I've spent the last days either hobbling or lying down, and resentfully bemoaning my foolishness while Al once again stepped into the breach. Turns out that the absence of any strength in my back is nicely complemented by the absence of any strength in my abs. I am nothing but marshmallow in my middle.
My physio asked me (kindly) why I was so careless, and I only shrugged. The answer is so simple and not simple at all. I can't quite believe this is my body. Three years ago I was slim, strong and limber. I was tough. My body hung together. I didn't have to be careful because nothing was beyond the capabilities of that body. Just as I can't quite recognise the tired and creased face that stares back from the mirror, I can't accept this present body is mine. I think to myself my body has let me down but I'm beginning to learn it's my mind that's misbehaving and I - and my family - keep paying the price of its folly.
So I'm telling myself this time, I've learned my lesson. Maybe I'll now bend with my knees, work on my core strength, eat right, excercise sensibly and Do The Right Things. Maybe this time I'll learn to take care.