I Did It

>I DID IT This morning I did it, now I must write, I did. That bubbles burst now in my heart. As one might not believe what I do say. But I did it, it is in my head. And I did it lying in my bed. Do you want to know what I did do? Would you honest Indian, believe me, would you? Well, I was lying in my bed almost flat. Wearing my pyjamas, minus me nightcap. I took a few deep breaths, I did do. Concentrated, tensed all my muscles up too. Surprised myself, I’m telling you. Then as I took, a deep gulp of air. I was, sitting upright, I was so there. What, no applause, no cheeky cheers? I sat up. I did in bed. I’ll remember this Sunday 20-3-16 I will. It means the exercises in the Hydrotherapy Pool. At Ipswich Hospital, used as a mobility tool. Are working on The mad Author me. Okay, I did it only once, slowly. The shock, as I said, was a big surprise. You see, since May four years ago. From my bed, I could not arise. When surgeons removed my tumour you know. But now I did, I did do it. I’ll tell the world, I will it’s true. I’ll tell BBC News, Poetry Soup My Facebook page, Smarty’s too. I’ll tell the lot. That’s what I’ll do. Then tomorrow, I’ll try to do it again. And hope it causes no more. Blinking pain. (This may not seem a reason for a poem of celebration. However, to me it is. The operation to remove my gist left a weakness right across my stomach. I thought I'd never regain strength there again. From the position of lying on my back. The only way I could stand was to roll over onto my front, then start the process of slowly kneeling, then, pressing down with my hands on the floor, then gradually grasping at some form of support, pull myself upright. This is a milestone to me.TmA)<