I wake up. Not impossible, you say? Ever since I got put on insulin, this has become a chancy business. The same dinner, the same amount of insulin, the same midnight snack, and the same midnight medication can have three very different results. One is that I wake up in the middle of the night with a hypo ranging from a BGL reading between 2 and 4, and have to force feed myself enough jelly lollies to make it through to the morning. To this end, before going to bed I traipse up the stairs carrying the lolly container, my BGL reader, my current reading matter and a glass of water. I feel like I’m going camping as I juggle all these items upwards. Another possibility is that I wake up with a BGL of 5, having slept all the way through the night. The other possibility doesn’t bear thinking of. The impossible thing is that that possibility has never occurred, and I do wake up in the morning.
 I stand and walk. Or rather I stagger, gripping any hard surface I find on the way. Between the arthritis and the bursitis, I can barely move, and I cannot put any weight on my right hip. Somehow I struggle through the pain and make it to the bathroom, the toilet, and then into the shower, where I stand for three whole minutes – longer if I’m washing my hair. My arthritis likes this but the bursitis hates me. Every 5th day I manage to overcome the bursitis long enough to wash my hair. Why don’t I have a bath instead? Because the bath is downstairs, and I cannot walk, let alone climb into it.
 I weigh myself. And pretend the scales are not telling me I am liable to drop dead from fatal obesity in the next 24 hours. Impossible, but I succeed.
 I get dressed, and hobble down the stairs. At this point in time every step is still painful and I need to put weight on the banisters. Impossibly, they still take my weight, and I make it into the kitchen.
 I feed the cats. Impossibly, given their eagerness, and my continued clumsiness, we manage to avoid each other. Also impossible, I manage to bend over and feed and pet the floor cat as well as the bench cats.
 I get the canary up. Not a big task. I change her water, check her seed tray, stagger outside and pick some dandelions for her. Then I, who cannot yet stand, manage to raise up on tippy toes and with a steady hand hook her cage to the ceiling out of the way of the cats for the day.
 Breakfast. With breakfast, I take 8 little miracles. Chemical concoctions which control the diabetes, the cholesterol, the blood pressure, the migraines, a blood thinner, AND a pain killer. Just one. Addiction is not permitted. Sometimes I relax my rigid control and allow myself a mild anti-inflammatory. The impossible thing is that after more than 10 years these are still all I take.
 Then I ‘sit’. On an ice pack. And a miracle occurs. 15 minutes later, the painkiller has kicked in and the bursitis is expelled for the day.
I arise and walk like a normal human being. The Great Daily Impossible has been achieved.
– I hear you ask – why do I not do my ‘sit’ first?
Because, I have found if I ‘sit’ before getting the canary up, I tend to forget about her. (Bad me, I know, but it happens.) If I ‘sit’ before feeding the cats, they pester me, and make me feel guilty and restless. Restlessness destroys the efficacy of the ‘sit’. If I ‘sit’ before eating, I am too hungry to have the patience to complete the 15 minutes. The ice pack lives downstairs in the freezer in a communal area, therefore I must dress before collecting it. If I’m going to dress, then I may as well shower first, otherwise I would have to go back up the stairs, undress, shower, then re-dress after the ‘sit’. And why do I go to the toilet before anything else? Well I defy anyone to try to do all that before emptying their bladder. That would indeed be an impossible thing!