Day 127

I was fearful that it was a relapse. All the symptoms were back, mashing up the day like an orchestra struggling to get to tune. A cacophony of malaise. Such imbalance I haven't felt for almost two months. We were cruising along, Wednesday's double session, difficult but done. We even added a new pair of Asics to the mix, finding the neutral trainers at Zappos.com for $60 and free shipping. Here we go I boldly proclaimed. The road back.

Little did I know that THAT road would wind, snake, climb and detour through several western states and demand an ultra-like state of zen patience. One day at a time rendered to one step at a time.

The postural hypotension was the thunder to the chest pressure, dizziness and GI distress of the lightning like speed with which it all came. I recognized the signs. Red lights flashed, sirens wailed. Here we go again, with dramatic and vulgar expletive as verbal accompaniment.

I took two naps, assessing the damage. Haven taken myself off the three meds (Omeprazole, warfarin and some watered-down generic proxy for zoloft), I wondered if this was withdrawal. Trying my best to self medicate with probiotics, organics and Emergen-C, by 2000 I was ready for a night in the sack, praying that dreams would be kind to me.

And this morning as I sit quietly in eager anticipation of a sunny day (so far-so good) I feel much better. Maybe even over the hump.

It is a new day and I am ready to charge.

Wish me luck. As I wish for you.