Right about now I should be landing in London, stretching a bit from the 9 hour flight. Instead, I am riding a couch, barely able to stretch. Jason, O, icy parking lot, 1. My conversations with the doctor indicate some things were torn/strained or whatever, but until I get into the doctor, she couldn't say for sure. I am mobile, but very very sore. Little things cause me to pause, like the transitions between sitting or standing, or coughing, and even walking. This status would prevent me really enjoying the trip that I had planned, so I cancelled. Ouch, said my non-refundable tickets but a louder ouch was heard from my ribs.
As a faculty member said yesterday, gravity means more when you are fifty, and that is true. I could be a case study for that. I don't know if I would have bounced right back up 20 years ago, but I might not have been so sore. I told someone yesterday that I am adult to know that I made the right decision in not going, but I am enough a kid to be terribly disappointed by not going. I know I needed and wanted a break from work, but this was not how I wanted to do it.
More soon, but from my couch, not London.
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