I went for a drive yesterday - to Dundas, about an hour away. To visit my brother and folks, currently renovating various house parts. My meagre offer of garden work more for my own personal gratification and physical therapy than thinking I would actually contribute. But I brought supper...??
I have not driven a car further than to Loblaws since, well, last September. Driving, like everything, is more complicated with one breast. [Also, with one arm leaden down by pain]. Seatbelts cut right across the wrong spot. Can't wear the Aynsley faker yet, since the burnt skin is still there, and lymphedema is present too -my new friends. Burn and Bloat.
I was alone, which is rare. I was cranking bad 1980s tunes. Also, rare. About 20 minutes into this drive, I was sweating a bit, and worried. Radio news said High UV, and I had no sunscreen on, sitting in blazing sun driving west. This puts the fear of God in me now, a burn. More parts crisped up. It's Pavlovian, but in a bad / sad way. I feel it deep in my bones when I see others abandon themselves to the sun - and its power to crisp. I want to throw blankets on them, and plaster then with block.
All this sounds probably so ridiculously small and insignificant to those unencumbered in this way - both the car and the sun thing. Perhaps there is even a bit of "enough already" going through your heads now. And I do feel a wee bit embarrassed - but this was a triumph for me - driving two ways, gardening in between.
Wee steps. Wee baby steps. Repairing. But baby, I can drive a car.