Day eleven of this thirty day yoga challenge has not gone to plan folks.
Today is the first day I have done my yoga practice at night and then started blogging about it straight afterwards. And here's why:
At around five thirty this morning my husband was rushed to hospital with severe chest and back pains and terrible shortness of breath. I've never seen my beautiful man in a doctor's surgery, let alone an ambulance, in the ten years we have been married.
That was the first moment of the day that I was torn in two. In that I couldn't go with him to the hospital on account of the two sleeping Lads who would need to go to school in a few hours. Instead, a friend of ours went with him and I raced to the hospital like a bat out of hell as soon afterwards as I could.
So I'm sure you'll forgive me if this blog post is short. I have been at hospital all day, bigging up the massive love I feel for my man in the form of wiping his brow, holding his hands and falling asleep sitting up next to him, our foreheads and noses touching, despite all the stares on the ward.
It seems he has a 'spontaneous pneumothorax' (let Google loose on that one, if you will), and it is very, very painful. The moral of the story is that he is happily using up their winter stock of morphine.
The second moment of the day that I was torn in two was on leaving him at the hospital tonight. Although all the staff have assured me he will be fine and will feel much better tomorrow, and even though I had two more beautiful men (albeit smaller and cuter) waiting for me to pick them up at a friend's house, I thought I might need a dose of morphine myself from the pain of dragging myself from his bedside.
Anyway I'm home now and have been given strict orders from my man that I should still do my yoga. "It's a challenge you set yourself so you still have to do it. No matter what." I opened my mouth to protest then shut it again promptly. Who's gonna argue with a man with a tube stuck in his chest?
I think you'll forgive me further if I said I had a little tear at the end of the 'Soften' practice led by my chum Adriene today. The swaying and the stretching and the breathing did something big to the adrenalin that was no doubt still partying in my system, and child's pose was the end of me.
It felt like a submission, a surrender to all that had challenged me. I was left alone with the amplified sound of my breath directed inwards towards my centre which seemed pure and honest and vulnerable in a way that was totally ok.
Today's yoga session was less like a challenge and more like medicine.
(Although maybe not as cool as morphine).
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