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Every day, unless I’m unusually fatigued, I do something physical. Most days I am more inclined to go out, and then I usually take a walk. When I go shopping, that becomes my walking exercise for the day. If I stay in, I either walk on the treadmill or do some dancing. Before or after that activity I also do some chores around the house, which is my least favorite form of activity. I’d much rather be . . . doing anything else.
I keep thinking that my vitality will rebound, pulsing spectacularly through my body and allowing me to keep pace with my former self.
But I would be, er, wrong.
Yes, I know, patience is . . . well, in my case . . . lacking.
I’m working on it. Don’t get me wrong. I am feeling stronger and I am ever so grateful and happy about that.
Please send patience.
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