For the past month, I have either been in pain or been sick or both. I infected my toe in east Timor, I caught a cold when I returned, it cleared up in Canberra and then got worse in Sydney, finishing hopefully with a whole bunch of yellow phlegm coughed up this morning and soon I’ll be able to carry a normal conversation.

I hate being sick and in pain. I hate that it stops me doing things I’m good at. I hate that it stops me doing things I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to fill rooms with joy and laughter and make people think with questions, but when even a simple step forward hurts, or my brain doesn’t even function enough to frame a question I feel…. disabled. and I don’t like feeling disabled because I like doing the things I like doing.

But it’s funny looking ahead to when I’m better again. Because I take this body and these lungs when they work better hugely for granted. Because ultimately, I have been blessed with a life of not too much sickness or pain. I’ve been blessed to live in a country with free healthcare, and relatively clean air and water.

So remind me what it’s like when I’m sick, so I will dance and sing loud, and ask questions and love deeply.