rangry \răŋ-grē\
Having run, with anger.
I'm approaching the three month mark. It's actually been 82 days since my transplant, 71 days since I've come home. As I've noted here (and not very consistently, my apologies) it's been a rollercoa...sorry, a ride of the non-linear sort. I've learned that I'm a horrific patient and I have no patience. I've also learned that a little wit, a lot of denial, and a treadmill will leave me in bed with a laptop and a day of canceled plans.
It's been one of those beginnings of summer that we all experience: let's hurry up and start having summer! Quick quick! Let's do this and that and then this! It's the 5th day, there's only 60 days left before school starts! AmIright? You know the drill.
On top of all the activity, last night was another restless night. While I'm trying to fall asleep it's hard to ignore the feelings in my legs that lead me to believe tomorrow is going to be a day where walking, and walking straight, will be a challenge. Normally, I would settle in with the girls and avoid everything so that I can just push through it without bringing attention to it. A quick whine to a friend or a husband, a cup of coffee. I'll get over it. You know, that kind of day.
But this time I got frustrated. Okay, a bit angry.
I don't want to make excuses (such as not getting good sleep or enough sleep so maybe I wasn't thinking straight) but I got up this morning ready to fight. I grabbed a freshly-brewed coffee, put the dog in the car and drove her to daycare with a plan percolating: I will beat the weak with a short stint on the treadmill. Build strength at a faster rate than the weakness and at least I won't get worse. Yes, good plan! Push past it! Throw on an old episode of The Newsroom and get walking!
Yes, thanks for asking-- I do feel like someone who just tried to speed walk a 5k without prior training or warming up at all and already couldn't walk well and was trying to avoid being in bed all day.
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