Written 28/02/2016
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!]