Out of hospital I was running again. I asked if this would be a problem but the surgeon said, “Shouldn’t be. You’re not running on your hands are you?”
 
Running started as ponderous verging on pedestrian but I kept at it and pushed.
To sweat made my hands sting. I licked my fingers like a dog cleaning himself.
 
It was nearly two years since I’d spoken to next-door neighbour 80 year-old Dilys.  I was on the other side of the road back from a run when I noticed and dreaded the thought of explaining everything to her satisfaction. I needn’t have worried. I felt very self-conscious of my bandaged hands and tried to keep them inside pockets. I withdrew a hand only when my nose dribbled. Dilys said, “You’re looking well.” She’s registered blind and has a white stick to prove it.