Updated: Nov 5, 2020
"Fate whispers to the warrior, 'You can not withstand the storm.' The warrior whispers back, 'I am the storm.' ~ Unknown
I hate running. Running should be reserved for getting out of the rain, PT tests and when bears are chasing you (when in fact, you only need to be faster than the slowest person near you) .
I much prefer walking. Long walks, walking for miles and miles, hour after hour. Completely focused on your surroundings. Enjoying the feel of the ground under your feet, the crash of the waves in the distance, birds chirping. Knowing the journey and the destination are beautiful. Long non-circle walks are my life’s blood.
To me running is rushed. There is no time to see the world or smell the flowers. Running is …not a journey or a destination. It’s the quickest none quick way from Point A to Point B (unless you’re a cheetah then it actually is the quickest).
I have craved running only a few times in my life.
The day we were planning my moms funeral. The chaos of the details seemed more import then the person. What song? does the choir singer know that song? Can she learn it before tomorrow morning? Why can’t she?! Are you using my favorite picture in the montage? Why do we need a montage?
I sat down, changed into running shoes, left and ran with my cousin for a few hours. I came back sweaty and no one realized I had left. The discussion was wrapping up just as it started, all the same decisions were made.
Quickest none quick way.
Yesterday I craved running.
Last Thursday I went in for a normal checkup. Thinking maybe I’d have to get a steroid shot or steroid pack at most. Maybe the swollen joints, pain and exhaustion was just previous Lyme damage or a pinched nerve. The brain fog, I’m sure it was allergies. After logically listing my symptoms and downplaying them to my Doctor, … the clincher … brain fog. I was quickly escorted to the infusion side of the office.
Ironically, into the room I first had IV treatment in, the room Mike slept in almost everyday for months after working nights and then taking me to treatment, the room I had an allergic hallucination in, the room Mike told me the only people that cared if I lived or died were in this office and to be NICE even when I just wanted to scream.
Here we go again. I’m positive I used my quota of F’bombs just sitting down in the chair (inside voice of course: remember BE NICE…and start counting)
8 vials of blood < 18 vials when I first started treatment 55% decrease
500ML IV fluid < 2000 ML 75% decrease
1 med at 6G < 2 meds totaling 10G 40% decrease
Data alone shows I am an average of 56.66% less sick this time around #winning It’s just 4-6 weeks, 20-30 week days.
Pre-breakfast, coffee, traffic, IV treatment, breakfast, traffic, nap, work your normal day, REPEAT. T-19/29 days
Yesterday the entirely of it all hit me. I’m not in remission anymore.
I can only travel where Mike could get to me quickly, I have to request a wheelchair when I fly (just in case I can’t walk at the end of the flight), the pain will get significantly worse before it gets better.
I will forget names, words, places; people will think I’m either an idiot or an asshole. I have to ALWAYS use the GPS, I have to ensure my cell phone is charged and the tracker is always on (brain fog). I have to watch EVERYTHING I eat, which means more cooking, which means more time (counter-indications with medicines, inflammatory responses to food).
More, More, More and my “day” just got cut in more than half.
I will lose “friends”. Fuck, I will find out which friends are really just “friends”.
So, I ran, safety from the treadmill (I have no warning when brain fog will hit and don’t want to get lost). 6 years of my life flashing, the amazing parts and the completely sucky parts. Heart pounding, sweat beading, running.
When I stopped the conversation hadn’t finished. I haven’t gotten to Point B. This isn’t over. I’m not out of the rain.
FUCK! fuck it.
I AM THE STORM.
Bring on the rain.