I've recently had cause to reflect on my good health, fingers crossed. Over just the last two weeks a disturbingly high number of work colleagues and members of my family have ended up in medical establishments being told things they really didn't want to hear. Nothing life-threatening, you understand, but the sort of news that makes one think "Drat, that's something I've got to live with for the rest of my life. It won't be easy, it might even be unpleasant, and I really wish I didn't have to." It's been a nasty jolt, to them and to me.
I've been very fortunate in my life so far that the longest time I've ever spent in hospital was in getting born. I usually only go and see doctors to tell them that I've moved house and can I sign on please. I've never broken any limbs, my brain is still in full working order, and I've never yet had a doctor tell me that my life is about to change for the worse. To the best of my knowledge there's nothing major wrong with me at all, which is just as well because I can't swallow tablets and capsules to save my life (even though that's exactly what many other people have to do). OK, so I lost a toenail once and I'm a bit on the short-sighted side, but that's nothing really. To be blunt, I've been bloody lucky. Fingers crossed.
Good health is something the fortunate amongst us too often take for granted. We don't notice that our left arm isn't throbbing, that our back doesn't ache, that our left ear can hear someone talking, that our right ear can't hear a ringing that isn't there, that we've just walked onto the tube platform without the aid of a wheelchair and a lift, that we can breathe without any assistance, that there isn't a lump where there shouldn't be one, that we can see a beautiful sunrise, that our appendix is still 100% present and correct, that we do still remember who we are, that there isn't medication in the bathroom cabinet we need to take every day, that our heart just pumped successfully the last million times or so, that we just woke up again in our own room and not a hospital bed, or that our hands can still grip, write and type as required.
So today I'm giving thanks that, to the best of my knowledge, my body is still in full working order. If you can't say the same, then I'm thinking of you. And I've crossed my fingers because, thankfully, they don't yet cross themselves.
