A very precious new life...and the wild cat of phlegm

I'm home  again but still laid low.

The only part of this London skyline that I recognise, taken from Blackfriars Station, is St Paul's Cathedral.

Beautiful ...and I've no idea which church it is.

It's a real treat to be with my dear big sister and visit my lovely niece and adorable great niece,

in their lovely home in South East London, not very far from where Robin and I lived when we

were first married. We push the sleeping baby in her buggy round and round this 

beautiful park and lake breaking out with new life ( baby coot)

and early spring, and I feel  so lucky to be blessed

with sunshine on this day

and the delight of 

this very precious growing new life touching mine.

And on my return....

dark days and darker nights as the wild cat of phlegm 

growls and scratches

deep in lungs,

till the ring master of the ribs,

already smouldering fire,

rears up, 

whips open

the cage

and 

she screeches out,

tearing at

the raw walls

over and over

again.

I have retreated to bed, my world reduced to this small band of rasping fire in my chest.

Leaving me weak as a kitten. 

With none of the fluffy charm to go with it.

But today....I sleep .....and let the drugs dull the pain....

and wake drenched in sweat.... and sleep again...

and sip iced water....and  my sister's velvet yellow soup....

and look for a tiny glimpse of that life I used to have a few days ago.

I try  and imagine what it would be like to breathe without the rattle of pain...

and have a normal conversation  - not about me and my hurt....

and to wear clothes...and walk beside the bluebells in the garden.

But tonight that

 just feels like a foggy dream in someone else's life.