I had my cardio followup the other day.  My doc listened and looked at some things, and said the results on my blood testing all looked great.  He gave me the all clear again, but said that I should wait until I’d survived a year to skydive, as altitude can sometimes have a negative effect.  I also can’t take up boxing while I’m on the thinners…I already bruise like an old lady now, sometimes even for no reason at all.

So finally some good news.  The hard work seems to be paying off and the meds seem to be doing their job and haven’t killed me so far.  I’m down to 213 (212 yesterday post-workout) and the pants I started wearing that were previously too small are now too loose.  I’m going to need to buy some new ones very soon now if this keeps up, which is good and bad.

And then last night, and today.

I’ve said before that there’s a trust that’s lost between my body and my self.  I have to say, again, if needs be that, after your body betrays you in such a spectacular fashion, you will never just have a cold again.  I woke up feeling sick yesterday and by night felt like total garbage.  Called in sick today and rested and I’m feeling slightly better right now but not a ton.

But at night, laying in bed alone in the dark…you try to tell yourself it’s just a minor illness, a 24 hour ill of some sort.  But if you’re me, you lay awake all night wondering if your heart is about to fuck up again or if, even though you tested twice that night, somehow your blood sugar is sky high like when you were in the ER that fateful day.

And I’m here still, home, breathing.  So hopefully those fears are unfounded.

But damned if it isn’t awful to feel such vulnerability; such fragility in a body that’s been put through hell and never seemed much worse for the wear.