psychologic

 wake in the morning, achieving a sitting position on the edge of the bed is so much more difficult than usual.

The back pains have grown, standing up is difficult, bending down to pick up something from the ground is just a horrible thought. A thought that causes pain.

Carefully proceed to the bathroom, every step is sore, is a pain. But at least it all still works. Brush the teeth, and bending down to the tap to rinse is hard. Should use a glass anyway, the pain is deserved- a reminder.

Back to the bedroom, it is nine, sit down, read the news. Britain has  seventy percent more infectious virus, and all the ports are closed. No one comes and no one goes.

Start to put on the clothing, every stretch and turn, normally unnoticed, now an effort. This is awful.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on socks, the feet seem a long painful distance away.

Later on, ring the doctor. Because of the pandemic, there are as few personal visits as possible, to stop contagion. An appointment is made for a telephone conversation.

Sit down again, carefully.

but the pain has gone, there are still aches to remind of it, but the actual pain has gone. It is as if the action of calling for help had brought alleviation.

Remain seated, this will not do. This is too close to delusions.

But now, movements are possible that were not possible before.