I’m exhausted today, but not for the reason I expected.
Instead of running four miles today, I slept.
Let me tell you why.
On Friday night my husband spiked a fever that had him shaking with chills so much I was actually scared for him. He could not get warm and it wasn’t the air temperature. He also had pain in his chest, and this probably was the reason he decided to go to the hospital. (To be clear: I would only make this decision for him if he was being ridiculously stubborn. We are grown-ups who decide for ourselves what our bodies need.) Because he is a veteran and we get his healthcare through the VA, the closest hospital is 45 minutes away. Did I mention it snowed all day on Friday and the roads were questionable at best and I hate driving in winter and had already slid through three intersections on my way to work that morning?
But taking control of our health and well-being in all areas means doing whatever it takes to take care of ourselves. So after 7 on a Friday night, we loaded up the family and drove the 45 minutes (or so, I lost track of time actually) to the Emergency Room. They took my husband back just after 8, and the kids and I settled in for Minecraft on the tablet and reading. I had no idea how long we’d be there. When The Blacklist came on the TV in the waiting area, I thought maybe it was time to ask for the remote. Lucky for us, we found a pro lacrosse match on the local Philly station. Our son is going to start playing lacrosse this month. It will be an education for all of us.
We watched the entire second half and about a minute of overtime. The Philly team won. It had been a couple of hours so I walked back to the room where my husband was being tested to take him his phone, books and water bottle because neither of us remembered to have him take them when he left. They were running several tests. His heart rate was high. There wasn’t much for us to do but wait.
I went back out to the waiting room where the kids were hanging in there like champs. About an hour later, a doctor came out to find us. “We’re thinking of admitting him,” he said, “and he wants everyone to be in on that decision.” We listened to the probable diagnoses. Pericarditis–inflammation of the sac around the heart. Maybe something respiratory. They wanted to do another EKG and give him more fluids. Did we want him to stay in the hospital or did we want to wait longer and take him home?
Home is always the most appealing option and after a brief discussion with the doctor, we decided the kids and I could hang in there a little longer. By this time, it was closing in on midnight. Our son said we could make up for not staying up till midnight on New Year’s Eve and when the clock ticked over to 12:00, he said, “Happy New Year!”
We watched the EKG and another blood draw and when the nurse came back with another bag of IV fluids, she told us it would be another hour yet, so back to the waiting room we went. Both kids fell asleep in chairs and on me, leaving me with my phone draining power and my thoughts. Before the final IV bag, I was still thinking about doing the run. On five or six hours of sleep, I thought I could still handle it, but as the hours ticked on, I realized my opportunity to run this race this year was slipping away from me.
Another hour later, we wandered back to my husband’s room. We met the ER doctor who had been making the decisions and we were told the plan of action. It was close to 2:30 a.m. by the time my husband was released and we were back shivering in the car as it warmed up on the way home.
The kids conked out in the back seat and I said out loud, “I’m not running the race.” And the saying of it out loud caused the tears I’d been holding in to trickle out. I immediately tried to console myself with words like “it’s okay” and “I can do it next year.” I got the tears under control because seeing out the front windshield was hard enough. We pulled into the driveway and fell into bed in the 3:30 a.m. range. No one brushed their teeth and I think some of us slept in the clothes we were already wearing. I set an alarm for a few hours later so I could tell a couple of friends who needed to know about the run that I wasn’t going to make it.
I cried myself to sleep. And I keep crying when I think about how disappointed I am that I didn’t get to attempt this run today. It was more than just the running, and I had so much I wanted to tell you about why. I guess it’ll wait till next year, and in the meantime, I’m going to do my best not to wallow and get right back out there. The weather is supposed to turn mild next week, and I might schedule multiple runs just to remind myself that I can do it and I’m not a failure.
I am still strong and capable.
Even if today I feel like I let some people down. Including myself.
But if I’ve learned anything in recent years, it’s that it’s okay to feel all the feelings. I don’t have to deny the disappointment or try to shrug off the tears. I can cry about it if I want to. And I can still go out there the next time and run as if I am strong and capable.
Instead of running a race and recovering, today was about running errands to pick up meds and groceries and recovering from a late night. My husband is feeling better than he did yesterday and has a cocktail of medications to help him improve, as well as a doctor’s ordered rest from work for a few days.
We’re going to be okay.
