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 dimmer 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.
I notice the blue sky on Thursday because I called in sick and am only working a half-day.
A prescription for Vitamin D.
And a hot bath.