You don’t know how great your life is until it stops.
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Anyone reading my last So It Goes would know that I languished recently on a hospital bed, recovering from a severe infection. While I might write about it in a droll way today, there was nothing funny about how sick and sore I felt.
As a person who doesn’t usually give in to set backs and will work through the odd cold or minor ailment, this was enough to stop me in my tracks. Like any illness, the timing sucked.
It made me realise that life as I know it is pretty good. I had never really taken stock of how happy I was until I missed out for a time on those things that make me happy.
In the three weeks where I was knocked off my perch, I missed two significant parties. I didn’t get to go to my friend’s 50th 1950s-themed party or a 21st birthday that promised to rival the average society wedding. I missed going to two concerts.
I missed the anniversary celebration of my children’s school. I missed three choir practices and one performance. I missed playing piano for three choirs. I missed two art classes. I missed, I missed.
Now don’t think that every weekend is that hectic. Now on the mend, I shall most likely twiddle fingers, flick through the television programs seeking something that isn’t about cooking or roughing it on an island. And while I enjoy the peace, bring on the party, 50s-themed or not.
- Linda Muller