My upper back is tired. And the most strenuous thing I’ve done today is carry a few clothes to the washing machine.

Just walking around my home, trying to expand my lungs…it’s enough to leave me winded, short of breath in my dining room chair.

The simple act of chewing feels like I’m lifting a barbell with my neck. I imagine it’s the same strain I felt as an infant learning to lift my head.

Recovering from a major illness makes every little thing you take for granted feel like a Herculean effort.

Starting over with anything feels the same way. Getting laid off. Beginning a new career field. Learning a new physical skill. Getting back some modicum of physical strength and breathing normalcy…

It makes you feel inept…weak…almost helpless. “This shouldn’t be this hard,” you think. But it is.

“Should” doesn’t have any say in reality. All you can do is keep pushing, a little bit each day.

Relearn how to roll over, to crawl, to stand up, to walk…and eventually start running again.

(I was released from the hospital yesterday in case you missed my post.)

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