Remember when I said that the target for over doing it moves every hour and I push the limits at times and pay for it later? Well, the target found me this weekend and then beat the ever-loving shit out of me. The target is a giant asshole.
I planned out March in January when I was jacked up on steroids and now, after a month with more activity than I usually attempt in a year, everything hurts. BAD. Legs, can’t use them. Fingers, just typing this is seriously uncomfortable. Head aches, back aches, my teeth even hurt – someone should probably just knock me out. Last night, I thought my eye was going to fly out of its socket. It didn’t but I kept my hand over it just in case.
It’s not like I went to New York and wandered the city taking in all of the sights. Nope, I spent the bulk of my time there crying in my hotel room because between the flight and the Anderson Live debacle, I was done. In DC, the only time I saw something remotely touristy was driving by the Washington Monument on the way to dinner. Mostly, I slept.
So, for the next month or so, I won’t be leaving my bed much. Today, my doctor was all, “What the hell? You over exerted yourself.” Ya think? We’re both hopeful that after a very long rest, I’ll be back to my normal 3-6 hours of minimal daily activity. I’m trying to hold off on the steroids until summer. Fingers crossed (not literally because that shit hurts).
It’s like my diseases just needed to remind me that they’re in charge. Ok, already. I get it. You’re the boss of me.
American German – language lesson #29
Fick Krankheiten! (fick crank-hite-en) Fuck illness. Even if it’s the boss of me right now, later I’m telling it to kiss my giant steroid ass. I’m just not feeling like much of a fighter today.