Signs

What is it, you do a good job at work and they just give you more work as a reward. They perceive it as some kind of reward because it demonstrates their faith in your ability. Therefore it's really an honor, not a curse. Meanwhile your slacker - but paid the same - colleagues are dashing out of work hours before you, damnit, because they didn't have an extra assignment dumped on them.

That's what I am starting to feel like with this sick thing. Like there is an ascertainable number of ailments to dole out and whoever doles them out gives them to the people who can take them. They are given to the people who move on, to the people who make do, to the people that don't complain, to the people that make the best of it. Until the age of 21, my health was status quo for someone my age. Then I got ulcerative colitis. It kicked my ass around a little bit. But I was young and easily distracted and resilient enough to ignore my body's warning signals and drink until dawn and sweat out the hangover the next morning with a six mile run. That is, until my left knee broke down on me and my ulcerative colitis went to a place where I could no longer push myself that hard or lie to myself about the meaning behind all of my body's messages. What had been stern whispers from my body were now bone chilling screams of warning,

Despite the adversity I made it. The flare that took over my life in the beginning of August and lasted throughout the the fall was harrowing and tested my strength, endurance, stamina and ability to accept my fate simultaneously while fighting for a change in my fate. And I almost made it home. I almost made it to that illusory promised land. I almost let go and exhaled. I almost believed, hell - I did believe. My life was sunshine again and I was open again and the world was my oyster again. I made it through to the other side.

So back to that old adage about the reward for good work is more work; the reward for a good attitude or 'being in a good place,' which is V's latest characterization of my mental state, the addition of new similar challenges, like winning a video game and having to go to the next board and the next board and they keep getting harder and you keep playing along. And then you get pneumonia and end up in the hospital. You don't know you have pneumonia because you've been busy playing the game. You've been fighting and maneouvering and bobbing and weaving. You've realized once again what your body's made of and how to manipulate it in order to work for you again. It took time; it was difficult but you did it.

And there you are for about three weeks getting progressively weaker and more fatigued and sweating and having the chills and getting shortness of breath just running up one flight of stairs and having heart palpitations and being unable to force yourself out of bed in the morning. Obviously, all of these problems are easily attributable to other things than pneumonia so you keep on keeping on. Dad's heart surgery had something to do with it. The dusty apartment you call home is a contributor. Your constantly evolving cocktail of drugs yeilding constantly changing side effects definitlety some explains some of it. The cold weather maybe? Now you are grasping at straws but pneumonia? No way. You're confident it's nothing serious and couldn't be anything serious because of what you just went through. That would be straight up cruel for the person in charge to give you something serious.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again with the same results, the results you don't want, yet continuing on that path nonetheless thinking the next try will yield the results you want, undeterred and unworried. I am starting to think that I might be insane. I promised myself I would be vigilant about my health and heed all the warning signals and take care of myself and not push myself and not indulge in the stupid behavior of my youth. I didn't realize I was doing it but I was doing it. How did I convince myself that going to bed at 9:00pm was okay? Why did I accept the constant headache that felt like my head was in a vice grip. Waking up bathed in sweat was weird and grossed me out a little and the shortness of breath was weird for someone who is in as good physical shape as me but I didn't balk at either. So I ended up in St. Luke's / Roosevelt Hospital on Friday after coming to terms with the facts; I could not function enough to pass as normal. I was at work and couldn't pick my head off my desk. I called Dr. Lax and left the room to talk to him and slid down against the wall on the floor outside the conference room I was working in because I couldn't stand up. He told me to meet him at the ER. Then I couldn't get up from the floor without using the wall for balance and strength. Then my heart palpitations and shortness of breath kicked in and I barely made it back inside the conference room to collect my stuff. It wasn't good.

Pneumonia. Pneumonia. Pneumonia. Probably the last thing I thought it would be or could be. I have never had it. There are a million pieces to this. There's the insane angle. Clearly I am insane according to that definition. I still don't listen to my body. Then there's the unfairness piece. How could I get pneumonia. Me who could count her good days on one hand between August and November. It's a cruel joke. Who did I piss off? Then there's the be careful what you wish for piece.

I remember lamenting that ulcerative colitis is such an unsexy, unromantic, awkward chronic illness to have. To make matters worse, no one really knows what it is so you always have to explain it. I hate that part. So with this pneumonia I finally got what I was looking for. I wanted something romantic. With pneumonia there is no mess, not a lot of pain, your world is blurry and beautiful as you accept electrotrolytes and antibiotics coursing through your veins as you lay in your bed and watch the first snow and drift in and out of sleep. Flowers abounding in my room. Me playing crossword puzzles in bed while the nurse comes into my room to check my temperature and bring me some tea. It's a neutral disease. It conjures up weakness and womanliness. Reading and resting. Daydreaming about what I will do when I get better. Wearing a dressing gown while male interns come check on me more than necessary and blush when I flirt with them from my bed.

When the doctor told me I had a spot on my lung (or some spots, I don't recall) and that it was pneumonia, I was mildly relieved. Pneumonia was something new. Something I've never had. It's treatable but it's serious. It's painful and exhausting but doesn't require the same type of vigilance as keeping up with ulcerative colitis. It requires electrolytes and sleep. Antibiotics and tea.

Spending time in the hospital is a trip. When Dr. Lax said, "we're keeping you," I didn't mind. I was curious. A hospital stay is something I've never done and I also comprehend that I am not capable of taking care of myself or I wouldn't be in the situation I was in. As AC explained, hospital stays are for bad patients. And that must be me; I don't heed warning signs or maybe I've been focusing on the wrong ones, the ulcerative colitis ones, and not keeping an eye out for any other weird signals my body was giving me. The bottom line is not that I've given up but I have no choice but to enjoy the ride. I don't have control over everything. I only have control over how I deal with it. If there is 5% of me that can function on a given day, I am going to stand in that sliver of the pie and go about my day. That's just who I am. I am not looking for excuses not to live life to the fullest, not to go to work, not to go for a run, not to go to yoga, not to go out on a Saturday night. Now there are new warning signals for me to watch out for is all. And it is so validating to hear pneumonia when you have been feeling as exhausted as I had been. What a relief to allow myself to be sick and have the luxury of not having a choice regarding what to do on a given day and to be freed from all of my obligations, both self imposed and from the outside. I am not allowed to work until Monday. Doctor's orders. So much for a reward for a job well done.