When one's horizon becomes restricted (by reasons of health) it can be quite remarkable how much more interest / detail can be found within the narrower constraints.
When the world is one's oyster it's far too easy to overlook / ignore the pearl (one so easily overlooks that which in other circumstances would be considered of greatest import); when one's scope / potential is more restricted even the most common routine or occurrence can become a pearl of great price!
Since 2003, my year of collapses, and succumbing to myalgic encephalomyelitis, I have gradually learned to appreciate much more of the minutiae of daily experience. A walk into the garden can be as refreshing as a holiday away, the garden itself provides such a wealth of (primarily pleasurable) sensory experience which, fortunately, is not of the overloading variety such as that proffered by a visit to a supermarket, cinema, or town centre store.
The pleasure, that it’s possible to receive in abundance from the commonplace, isn’t always sufficient to stave off an emotionally draining intensity of frustration with the inescapable limits to one’s socializing horizon. It not infrequently feels as if a degree of re-active depression is lurking in the shallows, rather than the depths, of one’s psyche!