Sickness

During Sacrament meeting last week, my heart started beating so fast, so hard, that I thought I was going to pass out.  I had felt a little off as I was getting ready, but it was during Sacrament meeting that it really started to feel wrong.  For all intents and purposes it was an anxiety attack, but I know anxiety and this was not the same.  This should tell you how sick I felt-- I left directly after taking the Sacrament, giving notes to my helpers in Nursery and a note to the Primary President asking her to find a replacement for me, I was going home sick.  I do not like leaving people in a bind, and most especially do not like missing a week with my "babies."  I came home and slept.

My sickness lasted until Friday night.  I felt like I was carrying around a massive boulder everywhere, completely sleep tired and physically exhausted.  It got to the point that I couldn't even raise my arms to wash my hair.  I do not like feeling that weak.  For weeks I have pushed my body to walk miles and miles each day (some could say I am running from my problems, but it is the only way I can cope, the only way I am surviving the feeling to run-- I just walk), working out on many different machines and in many different classes at the gym, working from sunup to sundown.  I reveled in the emails from Fitbit telling me that I had hundred of Floors and more than 140,000 steps each week.  But this week, I barely made it off of the couch or out of bed.  It made me emotional.  More emotional that I already am.

Friday was the worst of it.  I woke and did a few chores around the house, but could barely fill the dishwasher without taking rests every few minutes.  I went to lie down for a few minutes... and woke seven hours later.  It was such a relief to feel SO MUCH better.  All the rest of the night, I kept taking stock of myself and realizing how great it feels to feel well.  While I don't feel as strong as I'd like, I felt physically and emotionally much improved.  I went to bed at normal time and woke late on Saturday morning.  Sleep is wonderful.

Bringing up how much better I felt again yesterday, Randy said that he couldn't help the thought that I was mortally sick, that I may even have cancer, since it is most likely through my bloodline that cancer comes through.  It was the first time I think I've seen some of my own thoughts reflected in Randy, some of my own anxieties understood in him through experience not just words.  No longer is a fever just a fever, a weakness just a weakness-- it must be something more.  Because we know how it feels to be blindsighted.  We know how it feels to think it is something tiny, something curable, something "normal" and then watch a life slip through your grasp with nothing to do but watch.  My gosh, will our lives ever be "normal?" It sure doesn't feel like it yet.