At least twice this week, I hugged people with fevers who actively felt crummy. It being a holiday weekend last week, there might have been more bug hugs. So is that why I couldn't sleep at all last night, and had to mediate a fight between my inner child and inner grownup for over half an hour about getting up and going to work. I went, and it was a good thing I did, but man, I didn't want to. I did my training and was rewarded for forcing myself into the office by getting to schedule an open house this weekend. Then I went home, put a yummy stew into the crock pot, and took a damned nap for the first time in a week. This is not how I'm supposed to manage my disease. I'll be spending the next several days prepping for the open house by studying current inventory in that city, and prepping for my first rheumatology visit by finding my copies of my medical records and noting dates and complaints that never seemed to get tied together for twenty years. I have a lot of homework ahead.
I'm feeling pretty worn thin. Too much stress. Too many directions to turn at once. I need to start getting to bed earlier, to stave off any potential flares, now that I know what I'm looking for. I've been pushing it too hard and pretending that I'm not having extra trouble breathing without soreness. It's all well and good to say "get more rest," but it's freaking hard to accomplish it in real life. I told a coworker today that I wish I was the kind of person who could just vanish for a three-day bender. I'd already be gone by now. Unfortunately, sticking around for my obligations isn't optional. So I'll be here, in this same column, tomorrow night, trying to find the silver lining in something. See you then.
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