Good morning, recovery.

Oh, how I have over estimated my bounds. Here I, presser of bruises (my own, not those of others) and survivor of a vicious bout of kidney stones (it took a week for them to pass!), known kinkster and embracer of breathing over painkillers (painkillers! No thank you, ma’am, my pranayama and meditation will see me through), I have been brought to my knees.

Or rather, I have been brought to the status of whimpering and writhing patient on the surgery table of my own bed.

I sense confusion. Allow me to clarify.

As we know, I’m in India. I’ve got a bedroom on the very bottom floor of a hotel that overlooks, with grand sweeping views, the holy Ganges river. Very bottom floor as in, three flights of stairs and one construction site down from the rest of the rooms in hotel. I don’t mind the distance- it’s quiet and removed, with larger windows and more natural light than the other rooms. And it’s one hundred rupees cheaper. Sure, theres no hot water, but it’s nice to be far from everyone else. I always have been a slightly elitist hermit. Just ask my mom. All in all, the situation is ideal- and made even better by the slight inconveniences that might throw others off.

It is one of those inconveniences that brings me to the position in which I find myself now, one foot elevated and wincing with each weight shift. On the way down my privacy ensuring stairs last evening, I missed the last one and spectacularly ate it to the bottom of the darkened staircase. Now, let us assess: Jessie, shaken and battered, curled over her throbbing ankle/foot which are both swelling by the moment. Help? Three flights up. Ability to walk? Firmly in both the future and the past. Situation? Moderately dire.

Luckily I was retreating back to the dungeon (as my room is referred to) after going up to request a bucket of warm water in which to bathe. A man would be down shortly with said bucket- I would not lie in a trembling heap until exhaustion overcame me and I was found days later, half eaten by monkeys ( a concern which briefly crossed my mind). Bad news- now I am stuck in an Indian hill town, without the ability to walk. Hill town. As in, the town is built on a hill. And I live at the apex. At the apex, and down three flights of stairs.

Suffice to say, I am now getting very familiar with the inside of my room.

But it is not this which has me whimpering and convulsing in spasms of pain, it’s the ayurvedic massage treatment that I’m having done on said ankle, mainly involving the mother of a local friend coming in and, with no reservations whatsoever, getting into the nitty gritty painful bits of my sprain and rubbing away.

Now, it’s not painful in a sharp bad pain kind of way, but in a horribly stiff sore muscle kind of way.

And it’s turning me into a bed sheet gripping, hoarse throated, begger-of-mercy.

But really, I’m ok. More on the situation later. Now, i'm hungry. Where have my crutches got to...

Love&light
jess