Even the best laid plans

August 19, 2011

Today was the day.  Today was the day I was finally going to the gym.

I’ll back up.  Not so long ago I didn’t have a job.  When I didn’t have a job I exercised either at the gym or at home about six days a week.  I’m a couch potato, so this is huge.  I felt great.  It was definitely helping me.  Then I got a job and that quickly ended.  Still, I tried to keep exercising.  I did some stuff on weekends, and I took a walk every work day on my lunch break, even in rain, cold, and snow.

Then spring hit.  If you have autoimmune diseases you may know what I’m talking about.  Thanks to the pain, fatigue, weakness, and nausea, exercise stopped.  Forget the gym, I didn’t even do accidental exercise.  You know what I mean?  Accidental exercise is the unintentional stuff, like walking to the store for milk, or walking to the T (our subway) for work (I’ve been driving instead) or walking around a park.  To avoid the heat and humidity, I go from one air conditioned place to another, where I’m usually sitting.  This is not good.

I feel lousy from the symptoms, but also from the lack of movement.  Then two days ago, the weather turned briefly for the better.  After work I changed my clothes, put on sunscreen, and headed out into the beautiful, sunny, not-too-hot, not-too-humid evening.  It felt great.  I came back after a mile literally dripping with sweat.  Yeah, it was gross.  But I felt good!  I swore I’d do it again, but of course the next day the humidity returned.

So today I was going to the gym after work.  It’s tough, because I return to a humid apartment (it takes a while for the a/c to kick in) and I don’t feel great afterwards, but it seemed worth a try.  I was going.  I brought clothes with me to work.  I brought sneakers.  I brought music (not that I go anyplace without it anyway.)  Then I made the big mistake: I went out to lunch.

Why was this a mistake?  It was a short walk to the restaurant, but it was enough.  The humidity got to me.  I’ve been queasy ever since (5 hours ago.)  I knew I had to skip the gym and I felt lousy about it.  I felt better about my decision when I got home and stepped up the one, yes, just one, step into my apartment building.  Like it was slow motion, I became aware of my foot slipping off the step and my whole body headed toward the ground. Luckily, I managed to avoid injury (or re-injury) to anything other than my pride.  If I couldn’t handle that one step, it’s a good thing I didn’t attempt the gym!

It’ll be a busy weekend, but next week, I swear, I’m making another attempt at the gym!  And I’m putting it here so that you can hold me accountable.  Need a virtual gym/exercise buddy?  Leave a comment or tweet me (@CIRants) and we can motivate each other.


Paring knife: 1, Me: 0

August 17, 2011

I still don’t know how it happened.  Ok, I admit it, I’m not exactly an expert chef.  But I do know how to chop garlic.

Yeah, I don’t know how it happened, but I know why it happened.  Meds.  Those darn meds.  I got used to the lack of sleep from the steroids.  I’ve adjusted to that over the months.  But several weeks of crazy dreams on Plaquenil has me at a new level of brain fog.

I know how to chop garlic, really, I do, but somehow my thumb got under the knife.  There was the initial, “Huh, I seem to have cut myself.”  A couple seconds later I realized it hurt.  Hmmm.  Brain fog.  Oh look, some skin is hanging off.  And there’s some blood.  I considered continuing to prepare dinner, then realized I might get blood in my food.  More brain fog.  Better clean up.  Ok, clean.  Now what?  Oh, right, back to chopping garlic.  Then I almost did it again.  If the skin had still been there, I probably would have cut it.  Good thing it was already missing.

It’s just a tiny cut.  The bleeding stopped almost immediately.  It’ll heal in no time.  But this brain fog better go away soon.  It’s getting annoying.

Meds have all sorts of warnings about handling heavy machinery.  They should add kitchen knives to the list.


Shutting off the "good" switch

August 16, 2011

Almost every night it’s the same thing: I start to feel better as the hours pass.  My body naturally does better in the evenings, and having some time at home (away from work) helps too.  I start to feel better and even less tired, so I want to make good use of the time, I want to enjoy it, even by doing something simple like reading a book or watching a movie.  So what’s the problem?  The problem is that I still work in a 9-5 world, and that means waking up much earlier than my body would like.  It means that if I go to bed at a “natural” time then I’ll feel horrible in the morning and through much of the next day.  On the other hand, it’s hard to consciously choose to go to bed early when I’m finally enjoying my day (well, night.)

So now it’s not too late, and I’m feeling good.  I want to stay awake and continue to feel good, but what I should really do is take a pill so that I’ll fall asleep in an hour.  That means I’ll wake up feeling less bad.  But is it worth giving up “good now” for “less bad” tomorrow?  I just don’t know.  I better hurry up and decide, though, if I’m going to take that little pill right now.


Use it before you lose it

August 14, 2011

The other day I posted about using the good days to their fullest.  Yesterday and today I did that, and I’m so glad that I did.  Now, tonight, I’m hit by more than being tired – this is full on exhaustion, bordering on fatigue.  I’m too tired to get my glasses (so I may find some typos on here tomorrow) and I just barely have enough energy to write this almost-post.  There’s a good chance I’d be this tired even if I hadn’t pushed myself the last two days, and either way, I have no regrets.  If we don’t use the goods days as much as we can, then what’s the point of living?  Yep, it’s totally worth it.

Now, time to go to bed very very early.