Facedown in a bowl of Udon

I need everyone to BOOOOOOO very loudly and resoundingly with me right now.  Ready?  Go!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Thank you.  I appreciate your support.  We are booing the return of Fatigue, yes, with a capital "F".

I had such a good month.  Four weeks of normal living.  It was swell.  Trouble started last weekend.

I was experiencing a regularly scheduled hormonal event, which normally isn't that much of a big deal, but two or three times a year it totally kicks my ass.  The pain is fierce, and I can't take anything for it.  I grit my teeth and tough it out, because there aren't any other options.

By the afternoon I thought I was past the worst of it, so I set out to meet a friend for dinner and a movie downtown.  I had been looking forward all week to my favourite Japanese restaurant and a movie that's been on my To See list since I heard it was coming out.  I arrived at the restaurant feeling a little overheated, but otherwise alright.  I ordered a Mike's Hard Lemonade, thinking that alcohol would be a helpful painkiller.

I don't know exactly what happened, but after a few sips of the cooler and one bite of Nabeyaki Udon, I started to feel faint.  I put my head down until the moment passed.  I was determined to soldier on, to enjoy my dinner and the movie and my friend, but I just couldn't manage it.  Eventually my friend convinced me to go home.  Ken zoomed downtown in the car to pick me up.  I spent the rest of the evening on the couch, totally zonked out and feverish.

I would have loved to stay home from work the next day, but my assistant manager had the day off and on top of that I had an important meeting scheduled, so I went in to work and pushed through the day.  I did so well that I kept pushing through for a few more days, even though every morning it was harder to get out of bed, and every evening all I wanted to do was park myself in front of the TV and let my eyes go unfocused.

Let me tell you, if The Secret philosophy were valid (i.e. if you believe it hard enough it'll come true!), I would be the peppiest, most productive woman in Toronto.  Yes, there is some truth to positive thinking, for sure, but boy is it ever not the whole story.  My strong belief that one more good night's sleep and some fresh air would get me back to normal did not do the trick, no matter how desperately I clung to it all week.

Eventually I gave in and took Friday off work, although instead of staying at home and resting like I intended to, I let Ken talk me into going out for lunch, which was followed by a little walk, which turned into a longer walk, with shopping, and everyone knows I can't resist shopping.  In the end we stayed out all day and for dinner.  On Friday evening I got home and realized that, despite having had a good time, I'd run myself down further.  Reluctantly, I got on the phone and cancelled my Saturday plans.  (I was supposed to meet my mom.  Fortunately she was understanding, although I did feel guilty for letting her down.)

So, this is going to be a stay-at-home, layabout weekend.  My assistant manager is off all next week, so I have to get myself as rested and ready as possible so that I can show up and be functional.  I do not like the way my body is feeling, with the overall heaviness and persistent tenderness in some of my joints.  It's not so bad that I can't distract myself from it, but that's dangerous because the more I ignore it, the worse it gets.  I am praying that this bout of symptoms does not stick around for long.  To do my part, I'm going to have to cut back on everything again.  Dammit!