I began this draft on 12 June not knowing what to write, only experiencing a feeling of helplessness and a level of stress that I have never encountered before. I entered a world of disaray, muttering sentences at bullet-train speed such that no one understands what I’m talking about, no sentences seem to string nicely when I write.
When I hopped onto the ellyptical machine and the exercise bike yesterday, I thought to myself: 6 more weeks before I return again. When I showered this evening, I thought again: Will my shower time still be 15 minutes flat, or will I take an hour now? Last weekend I went out to the sea, and I thought: 3 months of no gliding on water. 3 months of no sun and sea. This evening, as I swam, I kicked my legs, free like a dolphin. Each night before I drift off to slumber, every step I climbed to my apartment on the fourth storey, each stride I take to work…I thought: Goodbye mobility, till I wake you up again.
Dealing with a family member who is in denial and constantly wishes for me to do without operation makes it a more stressful journey for me. I was appalled at the work I submitted, I was plain stuck at writing where I usually had a stronger foothold in. I wondered at length how to give her the emotional support she needed all these while, when I needed every ounce of it for myself. I wondered many things – too many.
35 hours. So begins my 6-month marathon to my active self, to climb above those who have belittled me, to build a stronger character within me.
