With every major crash there is a sense of impending doom. Is this it? Will I recover from this one? Will I continue to get worse until I'm unable to move out of bed? Will I be able to feed myself or look out of the window a month from now? Or is this transient? Will I recover? Will it be a day, week, month, year, decade before I gain even a little ground? With this illness one never knows.
Today, I felt better. Of course I did too much. But what is too much? I had the nerve to take a shower because I stank. I had the audacity to go to the store to order a turkey for Thanksgiving. I had the gall to go out to dinner with my husband because I love eating out with him. Yes, I was brash today. I did too much and I enjoyed it. I had a good day! With this illness one never knows.