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Slowly, slowly I raise myself from my pillows, lift the duvet,
and slowly, slowly I get out of bed. I am panting, sweating,
feel dizzy from all the blood hammering away in my chest,
but eventually I am standing upright on the rug.
My thighs, hips and stomach are a quivering landslide since
my bones can hardly bear their own weight. I reel, and have
to hold on to the side of the bed; the floor resembles an
undertow beneath my feet.
Right, then. That’s the state of play, that’s how things are
right now, and this is how it has been many times, it’s just a
question of getting a good grip on the crutches, gritting my
teeth.
*
‘Damn it, straight into the jaws of hell!’
Johan makes a quick-tempered move at the sudden sight of
me in the kitchen doorway. The shock is probably due to
the fact that after several months I am once more standing
upright in my own house. My hair has probably tangled
itself into great big knots and the state of my nightdress
and the way my body smells have been affected by my long