"Life is Hell, then you..."
I did not know it's form, the beast that settled upon me. Fish, fowl or some great bear or ancient sloth? It's weight too was unknown to me, the cut of it's talons-grip lost in my benumbed state.
I must have looked to strangers rather buckled at the knees, stooped and drained, but deep within I dwelt with hope. Far, far down deep inside me I sat before the glow of possibilities.
Life went on, more or less without me, but there was always much to do.
The actual effort, lengthy waiting, drawn out toil of my day-to-day; whether at home or in the windowless cell I shared with the staff and my son, is keenly known to those who too have felt the weight of worry and could not be lessened by forewarning for those who may, heaven forbid, have such a time in store.
It was a Saturday lunchtime some four weeks ago while walking in the leafy Leicestershire countryside from hospital bedside to my sleeping/eating place that all knowledge of this beast was given me. I came, in an instant, to know it by it's leaving.
As if a great, jet-black carrion crow of a bird had spread it's wings behind me, loosed it's grip at my shoulders and the small of my back and launched itself from me. I grew many inches and felt the pang of pain about me that changed at once to a thankful, haversack-dropping ache.
[he had been pronounced non-contagious and on the mend]
The learning again to breathe and walk continues close to home. He smiles and jokes. Craves to eat and drink and yearns for his own bed....soon. :)