I haven’t run in 5 days. Last Monday I felt flat, and I felt the fear rise.
The last time I felt this lifeless just 2 kilometers into a run, I had a blood clot in my pelvis and spent two weeks in the hospital.
I couldn’t get to sleep on Monday night. I lay awake, wondering if every twinge was a symptom. If I should go in and have yet another dimer test. If this time were a heart attack.
“If I should die before I wake.”
My mother/grandmother had picked the harsher of the two versions of the bedtime prayer and it rises like an ear worm from a deep layer of memory.
“We will, we will. Rock you.”
My life doesn’t flash before my eyes, it seeps in with a thick stew of awkward emotions.
I finally sleep in the early morning hours and dream that my children are wading through my filthy house and can’t get the mud off their shoes.
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I notice the blue sky on Thursday because I called in sick and am only working a half-day.
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A prescription for Vitamin D.
And a hot bath.
I am so sorry. That’s a heavy load to be carrying.
It’s a pity I’m not there … a pity for me. We could stay up and talk through the night, each keeping the other company in the hours when the skin covering my nerves is thinnest, talking through the things that stick to us, destroying our ability to reason. Go in, set your mind at rest. If it’s an option, just do it. It’s what the technology is there for. It’s what the staff are there for. xx
Nothing that unusually heavy. Just life at this time of it, I think 😉 It does feel heavy with no vitamin D doing its thing, though. xx