Tuesday, January 01, 2013
I went to sleep a week ago, after spending a lovely peaceful Christmas with my friends Heather & Tony, and woke up with a sore throat.
I shrugged it off. After all, I'd been telling people about how I just don't get sick anymore (conveniently forgetting a cold once a year or so). It was painfully sore, ridiculously swollen and difficult to breathe when I went to work that day, the next, and then Friday (when my boss finally suggested that I go to the doctor).
I was diagnosed with a real case of strep throat. I was pretty sure I had it before I walked in there, because I never got the nose/head stuffiness that comes with a cold.
I didn't expect to instantly receive two shots (one antibiotic and one steroid for the swelling). I didn't expect the doctor to tell me that I needed to come back for a check up the next day, and to go to the ER if my throat stayed swollen because it was likely that I had an abscess in my throat (that would need a shot directly into it).
Luckily, I was house-sitting over the next few days, in a peaceful, empty (except for an affectionate cat), house where I could zombie shuffle around and attempt to remember to eat. I used their TV to watch a constant stream of movies, which have weaved themselves into a strange melange of my feverish dreams and blurry hours.
And, as it does every time I get sick or have a migraine, I became increasingly grateful for ordinary life: for the ordinary "pain" that I am privileged to have when I'm running; the luxury of being hungry; for being out of breath that comes with the glow of increased circulation, and the normal exhaustion of exercise. I cried at how beautiful regular life is.
I know that many people out there deal with worse on a daily basis, or have to recover from surgeries. I faced the possibility of having the infection spread to my heart, and pondered how my life would change.
I finally started to feel like myself again today. I am energized at the incremental inching toward health, and ready to run and play again!