I went to my usual “stretching” class at the Y this morning. There was a new instructor and I couldn’t understand a word she said. Not her fault - I am pretty deaf. Basically I spent the hour either imitating my fellow classmates or just doing my own thing.
Most of my joints are pretty normal at this point, with the exception of my shoulders. Those shards of glass are still there, and I alternate between telling myself “Motion is lotion” and “Rest is best.”
Meanwhile, Jeremy is still stubbornly working whenever he can. I think motion gives him purpose and hope, while rest makes him feel useless and sad. It’s tempting to tell him that he should conserve his energy - but for what, exactly? He is stretching his capabilities to the limit, and good for him.
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