So, if you’ve been following this blog for a while, you know that I was very sick for the last couple of months of last year. Nothing terribly serious, but enough to keep me on the couch and put me into a deep funk. It was one thing after another after another. But, with some work with my doctor and new medicines, I was able to start feeling better around Christmas, and by January I was feeling better than I had in a long time.
By last week, I was up for hosting a party, and even considering training for triathlon again. On Monday of this week, I went for a 3 mile run and felt better than I had in ages. And on Tuesday, I managed a short bike ride. So, when Eric asked me if I wanted to sign up for Icebreaker triathlon in April, I said “sure.”
And then, on Wednesday, I felt worst than I had in month. I was hit with a wave of tiredness and not-quite-flu-like symptoms that kept me in bed all day. By Thursday, I noticed what looked suspiciously similar to another shingles outbreak on my stomach, and that put me into a terrible emotional tail-spin. I called my doctor, and made an appointment to have it checked out.
In the office, the Nurse Practitioner assured me it wasn’t shingles, but couldn’t tell me what it was, or why I was feeling so tired and rundown. That didn’t help my mood. Sure, I guess it’s good that it’s not shingles again, because I don’t want to relive that pain, but I felt like I was right back where I was back in October and November of last month. Sick and tired, and no clue how to fix it.
Fortunately, I was able to get 11 hours of sleep last night, and I woke up today feeling significantly better. So much so, that I am not worried terribly about missing out on two training days for the still-signed-up-for triathlon in April (just 6 weeks away!).
The thing that I’m mulling over in my mind about this whole episode is how quickly I went from feeling great to feeling terrible, and how dramatically that affected my mental state. After having been sick for so long, I was hoping to be “normal” for a while before getting truly sick again. I suppose I should look at this and remember that nothing is guaranteed in life, and to not take it personally when I don’t get what I think I deserve. Many people are suffering from far worse illnesses than I had, and for far longer than I did.
I also think my reaction wasn’t just a matter of a selfish child pouting, but more a genuine distress that I was slipping back into long-term sickness. Being sick is still within my recent memory, and I haven’t really fully recovered from it yet. It will take months to rebuild my immune systems and my physical strength. Each little set back just puts me that much further behind where I’d like to be.
That said, I’m happy to be mostly-well again.