Health Journal. It is an earned day. (That is a good thing.)

 

I'm breathing ok, and that is fantastic.    After the fluid on the lungs thing ,where it slowly sucked the life from me for half a year or so, you don't take breathing for granted.  You get a bit thankful. 

You might even throw grammatical caution to the F'ing wind. 

Actually, for a week or so, I have felt pretty good for my age, size, and the abuse I have put this meat suit through. Today, I can type with 7 fingers, even. Trust me, it is usually a painful hunt and peck...today it is just painfully slow, painful typing. 

Today I hurt like a small man that carried a helluva lot of bowling balls around, drove miles truck drivers can't log, worked with materials that obviously didn't do me any favors, and did a job for money that hurt and helped my psyche deeply. 

Other than the lipomas (?) , I know what I did to me to cause most of this stuff.  

This is a good day. 

But it creates the same result.  Some days I cannot move. Today, I am afraid to move. 

Because it feels good enough just to breathe, to roll over in bed without screaming. 

If you looked at me, you would never imagine that I am a physically, detrimentally hyper person. 

I am quite overweight, a homebody and a keyboard aficionado of the  Cliff Clavin school . In one sense, this is a success. 

It is a good day, so far. I shall hope not to ruin tomorrow by trying to walk today. Cause walking is good for me. I enjoy it. but somedays...it just goes badly. 

What others don't know, when they say it is the weight, or the age....is that I felt like I took the same beating when I was a kid. I just didn't know it wasn't normal. 

When I bowled as a kid, I did not road trip, jump out of the car, and pure it off my hand. I never knew what game I had until practice ended. My steps were different lengths...and I stretched often. I now realize stretching seems to trigger my worst flare ups. Probably psoriatic arthritis. It messes with ligaments. 

ramble on.......

Nothing but net