Monday, the first Monday of the month, should have been another meeting of HELP, the healthy eating and living program, my Really, Really Fat Persons Support Group. I missed the first two of the year, because they coincided both times with melanoma excisions.
This months would have also coincided, coincidentally , but I specifically ensured the excision appointment would be on a Tuesday, so I could attend. Since my exercising has dropped off as my mobility decreased, and especially since I could not swim, my weight has remained static since my birthday. I’m managing the kilojoules going in well enough, but just not burning them as much. I thought I needed some incentive.
So it was disappointing when Lockdown caused all such meetings to be postponed indefinitely. I stayed home again, drank a couple of cans of XXXX Gold, read, and napped. I’m glad I’m inAustralia, where off-licences are considered essential services.
I was wide awake again at midnight. By two in the morning I needed to move, so I took my walker and went for a promenade around the park. I tottered around for about thirty minutes, not counting the time I rested on the walker seat and looked at the moon setting slowly behind intermittent clouds. The night was filled with noises; rustles, croaks, chirps, squawks and grunts. I saw flitting shapes in the moonlight. There were bats, large and small, and at least one night-flying bird. There was movement in the bush, both on the ground and in the canopy.
At three I took a hot shower, and returned to bed, awakening refreshed before my alarm. A coffee and a good breakfast of sausage, egg and fried tomato with toast. I’m ready once again to battle the melanoma monster. I’m glad even of being sliced up with a scalpel if it gets me out of the camp. I had to ensure I ate a good breakfast first or I might just go crazy-buying in Woodford Woolworths. Never shop hungry. Especially if you are going stir-crazy.