How desperately I wish I could title this post Under Pressure and I could come up with a witty Freddie Mercury saying to accompany it, but unfortunately the pressure cooker is turned off and I’ve become ostracized in Connecticut. On Sunday evening, I become feverish and by Monday I was confined to my bed until basically Wednesday when I revisited the doctor. I’ve been feeling better since, but this morning my car keys were stripped from me- have I mentioned I’m 28 years old?- and the locks on the doors quickly fastened. I am on ailing lockdown.
I was planning on returning to New Jersey on Monday, but with the high fevers and feeble attempt at pretending everything was okay, my parents felt it was in my best interest to spend the week at home. I was 100% planning on returning to NJ this weekend once the thunderstorms passed through New England. Except this morning my phone started quacking again, and when I picked up it was my doctor. She had some bad news for me:
“This will be as much of a surprise for you as it is for me, but your blood work came back and you have mono. Not just a slight case of it, you’ll need at least 2 weeks of bed rest.”
Before I could hang the phone up, I swear I heard the locks on the doors make a thud sound, and my mom telling me, there’s no way in hell I’m going back to NJ until next weekend. I need to get better. Damnit, I put up a fight on why I needed to go home, and as I was pleading my case she took the car keys. It’s completely over the top and I know it is, and now I really feel like I’ve regressed back in time. I thought that you could only get mono once? Also, I thought at a certain age you’re no longer supposed to be susceptible to mono? I feel like whenever I come back to Connecticut I immediately turn back between the ages of 15-20. It’s insane.
So I have mono. Yet again. It’s kind of funny because last time I was single for a long period of time was in 2006. I really hadn’t been single since July of 2006 until well George died. Maybe mono is my body’s way of setting up book ends? Or it’s the universe telling me to take a break, slow it down, take care of yourself.
I know Mono is called the kissing disease, and sure I’ve made out with a few people, but I think I gave myself this one. I was doing 2 a day/ 3 a day workouts like 4-5 times a week for the last month. I was working out 10-16 days in a row, and on my “rest days” I was still cranking out either 30-45 minutes of biking or jogging. Was I burning the candle at both ends? Yeah, but it felt good. I loved that I could control my effort entirely. I also went gluten-free in the month of July, and that may have added more stress than needed as well. This whole getting severely sick came as a surprise because I felt I was doing a good job taking care of myself. It also comes at a horrible time because I’m just starting to get in some of the best shape I’ve been in, in awhile and I’m training for a triathlon in September. this is certainly going to hurt the training I’ve already laid down.
1 more week of lockdown in Connecticut, and hopefully I’ll sleep this virus out of my body. I haven’t cried a ton this month. Perhaps the grief manifested into something I could no longer ignore. I’ve heard that happens. Time to recognize.