I have spent the better part of this week praying. I am not a very patient person so the agony of waiting to know if my leg is now okay or if I would need to go for a second surgery is beyond words.
I really don’t know how to start conversations with strangers. I don’t understand how strangers meet in a matatu, a mall or even a hospital and start talking to the point of even becoming soul mates.
I now understand how my mother felt every time I criticized how she dressed when coming to school or how she talked loudly when addressing me. I envy her because she had ready answers for me like “Soma uninunulie nguo yenye unataka nivae for now mtanizoea” or “Nitashout venye nataka,
“Nancy, you had a surgery, you need to slow down. It will take weeks and a lot of physio sessions before you are able to go back to your normal routine”
This is what my doctor told me when I went to him complaining of back pains and to ask how soon I could start jogging and exercising.
This week, I took time to look back at my journey and I was angry with myself. So angry to the point I almost cried. I know I should have done better; I have been on a weight loss journey before and by the 14th week I am always on my target and just cannot stop because of the level of motivation I normally have.
We plan, God laughs; this saying has never felt as true as it did this week. My intention was to thoroughly enjoy my birthday week complete with what we, the young ones in the society,