There's a little part of me that can sort of enjoy the one or two common colds I might get during the course of an average year, because it provides a legitimate excuse to take a day off (really off), read, drink alcohol during the day (it's a hot toddy! it's medicine!), maybe do a little writing. But this was something else altogether, and I was so knocked out that it actually scared me. I couldn't concentrate, couldn't stay awake, and even after I received treatment and some strong drugs, it continued to disrupt my life for weeks.
But here I am. Now it's March, and the world kept pace in my absence. I basically lost the entire month of February, since once I started feeling better there was so much work and life to catch up with that I continued to wander in a post-pneumonia daze for weeks. While I was "gone," I missed being able to run, which is probably fairly obvious. But more than anything, I missed having the energy and clarity just to think coherent thoughts. I lost my creative steam, couldn't connect ideas, and was pretty humorless. Never have I been so keenly aware of the relationship between my physical life and my internal one. As a pretty high-strung and anxious person, when my energetic metronome goes haywire, it's usually going up-tempo. I'm an Allegro kind of a girl, and really struggled with learning to live Largo.
Now back at almost full-strength, I'm delighting in the ability to run a few comfortable miles again, thankful to get through a full work day with energy to spare. For a healthy body that can spring back from major illness, and for access to good health care and a comfortable bed in which to recuperate. But more than anything, I appreciate having my old brain back. It's good to be back back among the living. And the running. And the thinking.