For those new to the story, this is my 22nd week of being out sick. What started as bronchitis became Epstein Barr (which is evidently what they call Mono when you're over 40) and I've been down for the count.
Today was my monthly visit to the doctor. She is not happy that I am not better yet. She's in good company because I am not happy about it either. I was somewhat looking forward to complaining about returning to work just in time for the holidays (OK, not really but I've been sick so long I do actually want to get back to work.)
Unfortunately, I still feel like crap. Somewhat less like crap than even last week, but still pretty back. The worst part is that it's hard to tell. When I'm running on stress and adrenaline I feel almost normal... until I crash and then I crash hard. I still can't take a shower without needing to lay down afterward, so that's probably my defining metric. The good news, the length of time I need to lay down for is getting shorter.
On of my coworkers, in the early days of the pandemic, kept insisting that 2021 would be better. He has apologized to me repeatedly for the depth of his error.
No comments:
Post a Comment