It was the holidays and we went to spend Easter with Mum and Dad. We took the dogs to enjoy a runs on the beach. It would be the first relaxing holiday in 6 months, having spent Christmas trapsing from family to family across the UK and African continent. A time to chill, and rest and run.
Our first evening walk was a delight. There were no pressures – just an amble. But the dogs didn’t know that – they were excited. They raced and danced around us, and it took just a little encouragement from them to get me racing after them.
I looked at the tablets in my hand. Am I really going to do this again, I ask myself. What journey will this take me on? Or have I grown up and conquered side effects.
Gingerly I place the half tablet on the tip of my tongue. I remember when taking tablets took me over an hour of anxious panic. I had grown up. I could place the half tablet on the tip of my tongue and with a drop of water flick the piece down my throat with the cascading trickle past my remaining tonsil. Gone. It was in me. It would work its invisible magic. I knew I was tired. I knew I was unfit. I hadn’t known about the dangerous rhythms. I’m usually aware and wairy of every twitch – but apparently this time I had missed it. With the greatest of respect, I didn’t always get it right. The specialists had seen something and it didn’t look safe. This half tablet should solve that. They knew I “ didn’t like it”. I needed to give it time. To trust them. To give it a decent try.
I woke the next morning tired. It was nothing new. It was the first day of the holidays after an exhausting term. This day had been set aside to rest.
A walk along the beach had been planned – it was always planned at Manly. But I was tired – so there were no promises on my part. I’d walk until I couldn’t.
The effort to move around the house, was I guess, excused. Sometimes that happens. I felt flat. I was not motivated. The dogs excitement did not encourage me. I shooed them on ahead. I ambled down the driveway with the others. Once down at the beach, I saw the long stetch of sand being whipped by the winter winds. It was cold. Like the day before – but this time it was not invigorating. It was tiring.
I trudged along the beach behind the others. I slowed them down. I did not run. I did not want to run. I wanted to run, but I just couldn’t run, so I didn’t want to. Some 100m along the beach, and I was now officially exhausted. I turned to go home. I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to do that.
And so it was, for the next eight months. I took my half tablet, and I did less and less. I could do less and less. And my motivation waned - until a 20m walk to our shed was more that I could handle.
Half a tablet a day. And it took away my living.
So they were right – I didn’t like it.
[The doctors finally relented after preforming a cardiac cathedar, and discovering that there was in fact nothing wrong with my heart function. Unfortunately the cardiac cathedar didn’t go so well, and lymp nodes in my groin were damaged – but I didn’t have to take the tablet anymore!]