I've lost my rhythm.

Since my back injury and subsequent surgery in Feb. and the fatigue that goes along with leukemia, I  have not been able to work at my business of landscaping. Along with the treatments and clinic visits my whole routine  has been thrown to the wind. What I mean by that is - the structuring of time like days, weeks, and months  has changed dramatically. For example, this  is Sept. From early on that was the start of the school year. When I was in school, classes went from morning 'til afternoon, Monday thru Friday, then the break of Saturday and Sunday, then back to school. Then come May - summer break. So went college.  And then in the work world there was a pattern as well - 8 to 5, Monday through Friday and weekends. There is a pattern to all of this that is very familiar. It is as familiar as day goes into night, so goes the rhythm of work into rest. The one follows the other. I miss that familiar rhythm. I miss the rest that comes from that familiar rhythm. I've lost my rhythm. I miss work. The other part of that equation has to do with the fact that I have always enjoyed the physical part of my work. To have put in a day of physical labor heightened the release that led to rest. I miss that familiar expendure of energy. As a result I miss my rest. I've lost my rhythm. There is coffee to drink in the morning. Then what? There is a whole day to fill. I cannot physically work with the crew anymore. I am to stay away from the dust and dirt of the very earth I have felt a close kinship with since I can remember. The other day I was testing a lawn mower and so I decided to mow a part of the roadside. That is forbooden. Isaac told me so in no uncertain terms. The dust and spores could take me down, an image I'm still not familiar nor comfortable with, but must get used to and that right quickly. Last week I resolved to open my mind to finding new ways of being. Some of this came up in a session with the therapist and she asked if I liked to read to which I said no and I told her the story of Kate, our  grandaughter. Kate, 10 at the time, found out I didn't read to which she responded, "And you're still alive?". There may be  a good hint there about how to stay alive. I'm sure there are plenty of other good suggestions as well. Oh, and
I forgot. I'm also to avoid contact with other people especially as flu season comes down the tube. I miss my work, my hobby, and I sure miss my rhythm.      Abe