This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What’s the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year?
I touched on it here. Repetitive as it might be, I just wish to emphasise how much I meant what I wrote all those days ago.
When you have been ill and it is the type of ill that causes you to be on first name terms with your medical professionals and you know the nurses’ rotations off by heart at your local A&E and you wake in the middle of the night sweating cold droplets and decamp to the next room so as not to wake your partner by writhing around in pain and stifling yelps of agony.
When you have been the type of ill where surgery and discussions of surgery are the norm and words such as “adhesions” and “haemorrhage” and “collection of acid” are bandied about and chill you to the bone while making you feel lightheaded with disbelief and worry.
When you have been the type of ill where you don’t tell your parents or even your siblings everything because they worry and they worry HARD and your parents would move into your house and dote on you every second when they should be living their own lives and your significant other looks at you and you can read the regret and helplessness he feels for not being able to do anything to help.
When you cry yourself to sleep at night before a doctor’s appointment because you’re fully expecting the worst but you don’t tell anyone because this is a burden you feel you ought to shoulder by yourself…
…well, when you get good news, you have to do something with it.
And that was my gift this year. The gift of Good News in the form of (relative) Good Health.
I may have a way to go before I’m at optimum health and I may have to put in work and still spend a few evenings pacing the boards before seeing my doctor but being handed the decree that you’re well when you’ve spent years being unwell is akin to being given the key to the city.
Suddenly, the opportunities are endless and dreams can be opened like long-forgotten chests and explored once more.
Suddenly you have the chance to do that which you thought you might not be able to do again.
And that opportunity buoys you up like a million butterfly wings.
I may forget at times, that with which I have been blessed. But this? Well, this I cling to nurture like a seedling hoping that it will only grow.
It’s like Mark said, “A second chance is the greatest gift anyone can receive…”
And I plan to make the most of mine.
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Stereo. 20-something aspiring bon vivant. London based. Exceptionally Nigerian. Partial to snark. My default setting is "wry". Jeans and blazers are my uniform. Landlady. Speed reader, tuneless singer, hoarder of words, drinker of Schloer; I am suspicious of most people, have zero tolerance for tomfoolery, have a vast DVD collection, worship at the altar of Al Green, own too many bottles of nail polish, have small eyes, small ears and giant hair and owe approximately 86% of my awesome to the Parents Typewriter.
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