This post is going to be a bit of a cliché, and for that I apologise in advance. But the thing about clichés is that they have become so for good reason.

You see, I have discovered that having a serious illness can be extraordinarily life-affirming.

After over two weeks of hospitalisation, as I walked in the front door to the house which in truth I've struggled to really love, I suddenly felt incredibly glad and relieved to be "home", yes, home. The first couple of days were punctuated with bursts of unprompted, mixed emotions - tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of mild hysteria.

"I was really ill, wasn't I?"
"I was so scared - I still am, sometimes..."
"I was worried about you..."
"I'm home, I'm actually home!"
"It's so good to have you home,"

The simple feel of the sun on my face and the fresh air in my hair as I sat in the garden on my first day home, even though the glare made me squint and caused my eyes to water, was utter bliss. Smiling, I drank in the smell of freshly cut grass as I read my book, the regular chirrups of the garden birds providing a peaceful background soundtrack. A simple cup of tea tasted like pure nectar from the gods. I would find myself laughing to myself, tears brewing in my eyes, tears of happiness.

Every plate of food makes me roll my eyes with pleasure, everything tastes delectable . Of course, this is helped by the steroids which have given me an almost insatiable appetite, but I'm going with the flow, for now. My body needs and loves food at the moment and I won't stand in its way.

The feel of being in a comfortable, king size bed in the quiet of night with a warm presence beside me, always there for the numerous occasions when I wake up (steroids, again).

I have already acknowledged my need for simplicity in life and this recent episode has only served to increase this need.

Love, simple food, birds singing, cups of tea, hot cross buns, English gardens.

Life is good.
I'm feeling better every day.