It’s been a hell of a month and half, with the recovery of a physical injury I sustained at the beginning of April, only to get sick with some kind of flu or virus immediately after. And no, before anyone panics, it isn’t COVID-19! But for those of you who may not have read earlier posts from a month ago, I attended a karate seminar and took a strike to the left rib cage, which resulted in a sharp, piercing pain that I assumed, at the time, was a broken rib. Although x-rays negated that possibility (allegedly) the pain and limited movement has kept me pretty isolated and unable to train and move freely for well over a month.
For about two weeks, despite the stiffness and slow movement I have been recovering well. I can breathe and move somewhat normally and can now sneeze, cough and fart without nearly passing out in pain, which is something you don’t necessarily recognize or take for granted until you can’t do it. This week, I contemplated returning to karate, which would be my first class in 46 days. The fact I’ve been counting those days should give you some indication as to how anxious I am to return and how much it means to me. Monday classes are usually at 8 pm, which is a later start than I’ve ever had at previous dojos. For this reason, I’m usually on the fence about attending on Mondays.
Last Monday, i got home spent and exhausted from my day’s work and opted for my usual, which was to skip. This sounds pretty bad and it’s not something you would have heard out of me, twenty years ago. but as one gets older and wiser, quality over quantity becomes the new norm. By Tuesday afternoon, a wave of nausea and clamminess struck me. I was dizzy and felt physically ill. I worked my way through the rest of the afternoon but by the time I got home, I was done for the day. not only did I find myself unable to eat, I spent my evening cradling a bucket and wound up sleeping downstairs so I wouldn’t wake the entire house if I retched and threw up. Lovely.
The irony is that Wednesday would have been my first karate class since the injury, having skipped on Monday. I had full intentions of attending but of course fate had other plans. I had hoped whatever this was would pass during the night, but I woke up still feeling like shit on Wednesday morning. By Wednesday evening, I made my peace with the fact I wouldn’t be attending. Come this morning, I still feel like crap. Things have a tendency of turning on a dime for me, what with the whole Diabetes thing. So you never know what this evening may bring or whether I may be able to attend. Just one more step towards understanding that life doesn’t care about one’s plan.
Since I’ve never caught “man flu” in my life, one can safely assume that if an illness is bad enough to slow me down or stop me, it’s likely because it’s serious. Not serious enough to put a stop to me, of course. I’ll get over this like I get over everything else. It just pisses me off that it had to happen RIGHT when I had recovered from an injury and intended on returning to karate. Such is life. I’ll get there. The irony, and the good part I suppose, is that none of this seems to have affected my blood sugars. Even skipping some meals. Small favours… ☯️