I am far from saintly, imbued with a weakness for the profane, for excess, and more than my fair share of debauchery. However, when it comes to my health I am the model of good intentions: I exercise mindfully every single day. I eat healthy foods, meditate, pray, and hug people all of the time (which we know thanks to science hugs help you live a longer, happier life. The more the better!). Hell, I even stretch after exercising. I even stretch after sleeping! However there is still the nagging fact that I am imperfectly made in my human design. All those ounces of prevention do me a world of good, but are no immunization for aging and genetics and general “well that’s life-ness”. Still I soldier on cheerfully. Mostly cheerfully. Ok, I get monstrous at times. It makes me appear mysterious and keeps my family guessing. This morning I had 4 more injections into the base of my spine, just four weeks after having the same procedure done, with the same flat on my ass, nausea filled recovery. My kids are awesome. They know mom’s not ever down on the mats like this easily or often and they nurture my peaked spirit with such tenderness and love. They stepped into every role plus their own, and made giving in to a long day of fitful sleep, guiltless and easier. I know my hubby longs to be here to be superman for me but he is currently taking the capital by storm with our 4th son and the entire 8th grade class on a week long field trip. Somehow I feel I got the easier deal, but he really loves stuff like that. So I am curled up with pillows and ice packs, and treated to snuggles and whispered stories of the day in my cool, darkened room while it spins slowly on towards tomorrow, and one more step closer to healing.