I had a royal meltdown the other night. Not sure what happened. Suddenly, very suddenly, I was tired of everything. Exhausted with expelling crap from my body, frustrating with not feeling well, tired of taking it turtle-slow. Blood on my jingle jammies jump-started the emotions and just as quickly came the rants. I couldn’t understand what was making me feel so bad. Angels of anger sat on my shoulder and urged me to rave. So I did.
The next morning found me still seething; ranting silently. I gave in and called my doctor before I could kill Kisa. Excuse me for not asking; excuse me for being an azzhole. Seriously, what does the word ‘excessive’ mean? I know I should have asked earlier but I was not confronted with day seven at that time. Is day seven considered excessive? I don’t want to sound sniveling, but I’m seriously worried. In the end I’m glad I asked. Seven is not excessive but rather, slow, turtle-slow. Dr. Ruth sat me down and said, here’s the deal. You are healing slower. In the same breath she urged me to not slow down. Encouraged me to start training again. So I am.
So. Kisa, having escaped execution by exploded exclamation has promised me sunny skies and a small walk. Saturday. So I will.