I Think It's a Saturday

   I am told today is a Saturday.  That may be.  During the last few weeks each day's designation has meant very little to me.  I am quite sure that during that time each day has ended with a "--day" but if you had told me it was different, I might have believed you.  Instead for me, the passage of time over the last month has been marked by this doctor's appointment, that set of vitals, this batch of medications, that attempt at a release from the hospital.  I have also learned that each of those experiences, once they are behind me, do not need to be relived.  The joy of being human is that I can choose to remember what I wish to remember about those days, but I never have to relive the pain and discomfort of those days.  I choose to keep moving forward.
   And "forward" includes staying awake a little longer each day.  "Forward" means being able to walk a bit further each time I amble down the block.  "Forward" means eating just a bit more food a bit more often during the day.  While I am nowhere near ready for an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord, progress is slowly being realized.  "Forward" means not quite so many experiences that are shrouded in that "hard tired" that affects the bones and very innards of who I am but instead I can sit up just a little longer before I have to lay down to relax.  It seems as though none of my "progress" can be measured with terms like: "By Monday..." or "Before Wednesday..."  So forward I go.  I take a step ahead here and another one there.  A little bit at a time.