After spending a lost weekend in bed sick and sleeping while the world past me by, I awoke Monday morning with a clear head. Finally! No more headache, a few body aches here and there but nothing like I felt over the weekend, I was ready to take on the day.
Wrong. While the mind was willing and ready to go, my body had a completely different idea. Once I began to move, I felt as if I had run three marathons back to back, took a quick break, and topped it off with a triathlon. As I continued with my morning, making beds and throwing in loads of laundry, I found myself winded and needing to sit down.
The last time I was really sick was a bad case of the flu a few years back, which wiped out our entire family in phases with me taking the biggest hit last. Bedridden for seven straight days, I lost over ten pounds and felt weak for over a month until I finally got back on my feet.
Fearing the worst, I tried to push myself through the exhaustion, thinking once I had momentum on my side I would able to muster through the rest of the day.
Wrong yet again. Pushing through the physical weakness simply brought the headache back, and I knew it was bad when I was too tired to take a shower. Feeling pathetic and resigned to the fact that I was not quite better yet, I flopped back in bed and went under the blankets.
I don’t have any more time to be sick, and I’d like to be better now, please.
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