Every time I think about my healing, I get empowering thoughts around it.

It comes up more often than anybody else knows. In a queue, halfway through a film, at four in the morning with nothing available to interrupt it. Nobody gets to choose the frequency.

What shifts a little is what arrives alongside. Some days it is the inventory of everything still undone. Some days it is the fact that you walked further on Tuesday than you did the Tuesday before, which is a genuinely different thought about the same body.

Neither one is a verdict, and neither one moves the biology. But one of them is easier to spend an afternoon inside.