Sick as a Dog

I've got some kind of stomach thing, or a flu, or something. My entire body aches and I'm as week as a newborn kitten. I feel like DEATH.

I had horrible indigestion all night, and the mere thought of eating is nauseating. I can barely take a sip of water.

This one is nasty, folks. I hope you don't get it.

Overwhelmed

I am up to my eyeballs in work.

I have a midterm to study for.

My father is back in the hospital.

And my lovely Ariel is probably mortally ill. I am taking her to the vet tomorrow afternoon.

I have a vicious cold that won't quit.

...

Good news would be welcome any time now.

Updates

Ariel may be sick, but you wouldn't know it from her general demeanor. Here is a recent snippet... more to come.



My Dad has been moved from the hospital to a rehab facility, and seems to be doing reasonably well. My sister reports that he is in good spirits.

I am sick as a dog with a nasty cold. I sound like a Disney character and my body is producing a phlegm that, sad to say, is a particularly unpleasant shade of green. Looking forward to this being over with.

Walk On

This evening I put on my running shoes and walked for an hour and a little over three miles. I smiled the whole way.

I think that, if all goes well, I can start adding in a little jogging in a week or ten days' time.

UnHoppy

Apparently I hop(p)ed too soon.

Ouch. Back on full crutchitude again.

And I'm having to transfer files via Airport, painfully slowly from my Cube to my new iMac G5, because firewire target disk mode causes the iMac's Finder to hang. Can you say "tedium?"

I knew you could.

Hoppy

I'm down to ONE crutch now. This counts as an improvement.

The Suckage of Crutches

I would just like to say that, despite any previous commentary to the contrary, it is not necessarily the case that it's worse to be on crutches in winter than in the summer.

Yes, ice and snow are evil hazards, and one's hands are likely to be chilly, and it's tough to manouevre with bulky clothing on.

BUT, consider the horrendous chafing of tender arm-flesh exposed to the cruel wood and rubber! The heinous burden of heat and heave as one swings the dead weight of one's lower body under the sweltering sun! The cruelty of thumping along like Igor while everyone else is sauntering or strolling or sprinting in fine weather.

Oh, what's the use: Crutches just suck year 'round.

Good News/Bad News

The good news is that I had a very successful Rockville Rotary Twilighter 8K, running a 11:02 pace despite thunder, lightning, and torrential downpour... and a severely sprained foot which I acquired in the first three minutes of the race.

I am a chowderhead for not dropping out of the race immediately at that moment, but I was so pumped with adrenalin, and then high on endorphins, that I didn't realize how badly hosed my foot was until I crossed the finish line and couldn't walk. And yes, it was the SAME foot that I've injured repeatedly.

Fortunately, Andrew was there and got me some ice to apply and gave me a lift to my car, which saved me from a lot of additional agony.

So now I'm back on crutches, and probably out of the running running (as it were) until Fall.

Damn it!

Losing It

Senility approacheth apace.

For example, I can't seem to eat without wearing my food. Someday, I won't notice.

Today I looked frantically for my keys at work. Had I left them in the bathroom? NO. Had they fallen out of a pocket somehow? (Doomed.)

...Of course I found them. Eventually. In the desk drawer where I'd carefully placed them for safe-keeping.

And then there was the rubberband. The one I use to stylishly keep my little leather datebook closed. One minute it was there. The next minute: gone. I looked high and low. I was baffled, I tell you, baffled.

I gave up. I replaced the old green rubberband with a new green rubberband. I wondered if the old rubberband was now happily frolicking in the same limbo dimension where single socks go from the laundry.

Until just now. When I looked down to see what was tickling my right wrist...

Yep. Come and get me now, 'cause it's only going to get worse.

Running Around

The good news is that I got my run in today before the skies opened in deluge. The weatherman has been totally and preposterously WRONG the last week or so. We never got the snow that was threatened, for example, and it was almost 60 degrees today.

One more outing of 30 secs running and 1.5 minutes walking. Then I'll add ten seconds to the run and substract ten from the walk. The plan is to change the ratio gradually and in very modest increments, until I get to 2 minutes running, one minute walking. So far things are going okay.

I am having to exercise significant discipline to not speed up the process. I WANT to run longer and further. But I am also determined to not reinjure myself.

Also, given the continuing exacerbation of my bunions, I'm questioning whether I should be planning to run really long distances. In the grand scheme of things, I'd much rather run for 40 more years than run a marathon, have to have surgery, have it be problematic, and not be able to run at all. We'll see. I'm not going to even THINK about distance training beyond 10 miles until the Galloway program starts up again in May.

In case anyone hasn't noticed, let me just state once more for the record: for me, running is the best mood maintaining medication there is. I am feeling so much better, overall, after just 6 runs, that it's truly astonishing.

Worst. Cold. Ever.

I can't believe how bad this cold is.

I have been a phlegm faucet for over a week now. Tonight I didn't sleep a wink. I probably lost two pounds in mucus blowing my nose and hawking up gobbets from my throat.

This cold laughs in the face of medication. This cold mocks decongestants, it has decongestants for lunch. No amount of drinking fluids, or inhaling steam, or praying to God for sweet, sweet death to relieve me has the slightest effect.

Meanwhile, in my addled state, I'm up against a job application deadline today. If I manage to get this done it will be something of a miracle.

Of course I feel lame whining about my stupid cold, considering what tens of thousands of people have suffered over the last couple of days.

Still, it's a god-awful cold. If I've ever had a worse one, I've mercifully forgotten all about it.

All Systems are Down

Well, maybe not ALL, but a lot of them.

I have a nasty little cold. I think I got it from Aaron, who was making many HORKy noises when he was here. Now I'm making the same sounds, and more, as a steady river of gooey phlegm slides down the back of my throat from my sinus cavities to my lungs. Lovely.

I'm having trouble sleeping, not aided by racing thoughts and the ridiculously high-winded cold (and I mean ARCTIC) front that blew through here last night. Not to mention the periodic need to sit up and go HORK! lest I suffocate or to have a little coughing fit resulting in what looks like a piece of (green) lung in the kleenex.

I'd love to just curl up in bed reading bad fiction. In fact, that's basically what I'm doing. Although I will venture forth later for some culture with the fabulous Jocelyn. I hope I do not draw the ire of the other theatre patrons with a long and loud spasm of HORKing.

I never used to get colds. I'm serious. It's a development of the last couple of years. Maybe I should just stay locked up in my hotel room without any visitors like Howard Hughes.

I am SO not ready for Christmas.

Beach Blitz

I admit it was an email sent by Independence Air touting super-cheap airfares that tipped the scales. And indeed they were cheap. Cheap cheap cheap.

Andrew's parents are purportedly arriving from China next weekend for an indefinite stay, which will likely curtail our social life. So we are zipping off this weekend to St. Pete Beach on the Gulf Coast of Florida for two days of sun and sea while we can. I managed to snag inexpensive lodging and a bargain rental car as well.

Today, I have cast off one of my crutches, and I hope to travel crutchless tomorrow evening. I can't tell whether the soreness and gimpiness are due to more than three weeks of disuse, or whether my injury is lingering on. Time will tell.

Giving Thanks

I spent a delightfully low-key Turkey Day. Andrew and I were two of three lucky guests at a sumptuous feast provided by the manifestly multi-talented Bernie Sylvester.

I am grateful for the many blessings of my life. I don't kid myself: whatever my difficulties, self-inflicted or otherwise, I lead a charmed life by the standards of humanity at large. I have wonderful friends. I am healthy (if a bit gimpy at the moment), have a reasonably firm grip on my wits, and am entrusted with the continuing opportunity to make my life what I want it to be. For these, and for all the other gifts to which I am blind or of which I remain ignorant, I give thanks.

When I fall down, do I laugh?

I happened on this tonight, from a writer I admire who had fallen silent for awhile.

For some reason, the question struck a big chord with me.

Crutches

Being a cripple is miserable.

It's unbelievably inconvenient. Doing anything takes at least twice as long as it should. You can't carry much. Getting in and out of cars, going up and down stairs, walking on uneven pavement, socks on the carpet ~ all highly hazardous.

My shoulders are sore. My forearms are sore. My ribs are sore.

The toes on the "good" foot cramp up at night.

My condition is temporary (I trust). How my heart goes out to those for whom it's permanent, especially if they're not also young and otherwise healthy!

A few people I've encountered when I've been out and about have been really helpful and gracious. I appreciate it a lot. May I always remember to do the same.

Note to Self

Remember that whole thing about NOT WALKING ON THE FOOT WITH THE SORE ANKLE WHILE IT WAS STILL SORE?

Yeah, well, it was good advice. So now I'm going to spend a couple of weeks on crutches, giving the poor thing some actual rest so maybe it will actually heal. (*big sigh*)

Of course it was for a good cause. (And it's not too late to donate.)

See pictures here.

Limping for the Mentally Ill

Oh you lucky, lucky people... you've known me for HOW long, and I've never pestered you once to donate or contribute to any worth cause?! Exactly as long as you've ever known me, that's how long. (Except maybe that once when I did the AIDS walk, but I can't even remember that far back.)

Nonetheless, I am hereby hitting you up for money, and here's why:

1. Being mentally ill totally sucks. You know this if you've ever been sick yourself, or if anyone in your family has or has had a mental illness, or if a friend has ever been stricken with a brain disorder. You also know this if you've ever seen someone on the street, homeless, who was clearly not in his or her right mind. In other words, EVERYONE knows this.

2. Serious mental illness is especially pernicious because people are either afraid of or very uncomfortable around the mentally ill. Even though we know intellectually that it's not "catching," we still shy away from the very people who most need support, compassion, and concrete help. The stigma associated with mental illness is pervasive and persistent.

3. It's mostly hard or impossible to work when you're mentally ill and symptomatic. If you don't have good health insurance, or are already poor, you're basically screwed. You are going to be on disability (if you can figure out how to get it), and good luck making ends meet. Advocating for good, culturally competent, and free or truly inexpensive mental health care is the socially responsible thing to do.

4. All of us could stand to be better educated on this subject. We can be better friends and family members, better employers and colleagues, better citizens and better advocates for those who cannot advocate for themselves or could use broader support in their struggles.

NAMI is the Nation's Voice on Mental Illness. The organization educates, advocates, fights stigma, and provides avenues to self-help and peer support for the mentally ill. I've been working there a couple of days a week, and I can testify that they are fighting the good fight. A recent financial crisis has left them understaffed and overextended. Every little bit of financial contribution will be put to good use.

Hey, Lynn Borton, one of the world's most compassionate and competent human beings, is their COO.

Okay, so, I'm participating in NAMIWalks this coming Saturday here in DC. It's 5K, and I'm walking with Lynn's team, "NAMI Rocks!"

Even though my ankle still hurts and I'm cranky because I couldn't run the Marine Corps Marathon.

Feeling generous? Feeling humane and kind? Feeling like clicking and donating? YES!!! YOU KNOW YOU ARE!!!!! DON'T HOLD BACK!!!!!

This is it. Click here and make me proud.

I promise I won't do this again for a long time. Really.

And thank you. Thank you very, very much.

The Last Day of Master Cleanser

Oy, the boredom, the tedium, the sheer dullness of drinking nothing but spicy lemonade for seven days.

In preparation for tomorrow's glorious return to solid food, I added -- oooooooo -- an extra tablespoon of maple syrup to my last batch of beverage tonight. I also went grocery shopping for a couple of items (basically crackers, fruit, and yoghurt for breaking my fast), which was a bewildering undertaking for a person who hasn't eaten anything in seven days.

I want each and every one of you reading this, and I mean it, to drop to your knees RIGHT NOW and give thanks for the condition of overwhelming abundance in which we dwell. I don't care how poor you are, compared to most other people in most other times and places, you are RICH. (In America, we have the fattest poor people in the world. In almost any other era or locale, the notion that you could be poor and fat would be a total contradiction in terms.) You are surrounded by huge quantities of cheap, safe, tasty food. It's EVERYWHERE. Even my local, lame Giant Supermarket is an unbelievable cornucopia of luscious comestibles.

This week has been a valuable opportunity for me to once again recalibrate my relationship with food. I have been forcefully reminded how many roles it plays in my life: nutrition, comfort, social lubricant, entertainment, punctuation. As I begin to eat again, I'm going to strive do to it more mindfully, making more conscious choices and above all, appreciating it more.

I don't know if the "Master Cleanser" did much bodily cleansing, but it sure cleared my mental decks with respect to food. In fact, I think that's going to be my new motto when it comes to eating: Respect Food.

Day 5 of the Master Cleanser

So far, so good. The only 'symptom' of cleansing I've experienced so far is the outbreak of a couple of major pimples on my face ~ very unusual for me. The lovely Andrew informs me that, according to traditional Chinese medicine, this is actually because my diet is too acidic (all those lemons and limes). Other than that, I'm just periodically hungry as hell, and spending significant chunks of mental energy planning exactly what I'm going to eat when I start eating again. On the other hand, last night Andrew and I watched "Supersize Me!" which made me feel a whole lot better about abstaining.

It strikes me as fascinating that I'm capable of all kinds of self-discipline in certain areas of my life... and utterly lame about it in others. I'm sure another couple of years of psychotherapy would probably help me root out the reasons for this, but I can't afford it right now.

I haven't done any of the laxatives teas or internal 'salt washes' that are recommended in the various lemon regimes. I'm just not interested in putting my innards through that kind of stress. So, all I can say is: not a whole lot of solids going in, very little in the way of solids coming out at this point. Although weight-loss wasn't a major goal of this undertaking, eight pounds have, shall we say, 'departed' so far.

One interesting side-effect: a drastic drop in my own body odor and a concommitant significant increase in scent sensitivity. I have an excellent sense of smell in general, but now I can detect an unripe banana at 50 paces.

At this rate, I probably could go the full ten days, but I've decided to cut back to just seven, since I'll be traveling up to Boston on Friday for family festivities. It would be weird and borderline rude to completely refrain from eating while I'm there, and I'll need a couple of days to get back to a normal diet beforehand.

When life hands you lemons...

No, it's not a complaint, it's a joke.

Tomorrow, I'm starting the so-called "Master Cleanser" lemonade regimen. I've been feeling logey and gunked up, and since I can't do a lot of heavy-duty running until my ankle is better, I figured this would be an ideal time to undertake this modified fast.

I'll be skipping a few of the more heinous portions (like the salt water purge), and I am going to continue taking my vitamin supplements. And rather than using laxative teas, which just seem like a bad idea to me, I'll probably add some soluble fiber to the lemonade. I'll be buying all my supplies at the overpriced Fresh Fields, so as to be able to get nice organic ingredients.

So, you lucky lucky LUCKY people, you get to read all about my experience over the course of the next ten days!

[Update: For the curious, here's the recipe... I've been drinking 64 oz. a day.

32 oz. very warm water
8 tablespoons lemon and/or lime juice
4-8 tablespoons Grade B maple syrup (I've been using 5)
.5 teaspoon cayenne pepper]