I frequently write about words. They are so important. I guess I need to use them and find better titles for my posts about them, but today...that is just too much effort.
I have, for the past week, been fatigued. That is the word that best described how I was feeling. All I wanted was to crawl into bed. Well, with work and life, hibernating was not an option. Until my doctor told me Wednesday that I was to leave work, go home, rest and hydrate. And, something odd happened, I followed her instructions. To. The. Letter. I slept off and on most of Wednesday afternoon, until about 4:30. I was back in bed at 11 and slept the night away. I drank enough water to float a battleship.
Thursday, I felt...better. Not good, but improved. I spent the day watching TV and drinking more water.
Today, I got up with every intention of returning to work. The problem with feeling better when you're doing nothing, is you have no idea how you will feel when you go back to your routine. By the time I had been standing 20 minutes, I could feel the muscles in my legs quivering. I realized by the time I was dressed and ready to go, I was going to be exhausted again. I called in. After all, my doctor had originally told me to take the rest of the week off. I just thought I knew better. I hate calling in.
Unfortunately, by the time I sat down, my mind had changed fatigue into weakness. This is where we get into words. I had been fatigued for a week. I can accept fatigued. Weakness, however, is different. I am not weak. I do not accept weak. Weak scares me.
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