This post doesn’t contain much worth sharing. It’s a plain and rather boring chronology of the past two days. It’s also very long. The post is purely for myself, as a reminder of how things are sometimes – when I don’t expect them to be like this anymore.
I wrote about Thursday and Friday already. Here’s a brief recap for completeness’s sake and to turn this into a complete story. On Thursday night, I was too weak and exhausted to ride the trainer. I didn’t go to bed particularly early – which I probably should have – but slept well and got up with some energy.
I had to make up for the missed exercise the night before and burned my morning energy on an hour-long ride along the forest roads on the hill behind our house. I got back in time for lunch and went back to bed right after that because I felt weaker than the night before. I don’t think I brushed the children’s teeth. (If I remembered better, this blog would have more content and be more reliable. At least I’m trying to get it right.)
I developed a fever quickly and was forced by Flucha to take an ibuprofen. In the afternoon, I felt good enough not only to write the previous post that contains the information recorded so far in this one, but also to go out and play with the children in the sandbox. The curious spell of exhaustion and fever seemed to be over, but I wasn’t fully fit yet. I went to bed at nine with the plan to sleep myself to recovery. Sometimes giving your body a rest is the best one can do.
The next morning, Saturday, I should have been fine. I got up at 7 but went back to bed almost straight away because I clearly wasn’t. Against my habits, I skipped breakfast. Instead, I developed another fever, stronger than the one the day before. I got another ibuprofen and dozed for a few hours, listening to podcasts whose episodes had lain untouched because of lack of time.
The fever eventually came down, though not before lunch. The afternoon resembled the previous one. I played with the children outside , and even though I didn’t feel 100% all right, I thought I could see the end of the tunnel.
As it was my turn to cook, I headed back inside eventually and got busy in the kitchen. Risotto is something I know how to do. It was coming along nicely when I started to shake as if I were cold. On such a beautiful day, with the children running around naked outside, I couldn’t have been. I was wearing a warm hoodie above my t-shirt, and yet the shaking got worse.
At some point I had to stop the risotto as if I were cooking for a restaurant where they do the same and only finish it up when a guest’s order comes in. Flucha later said that the interrupted risotto had been particularly tasty. Even the children had dug in with gusto. I can’t tell because by that time I was back in bed, still wearing my pants and hoodie and shaking uncontrollably.
Flucha got increasingly worried when the shaking subsided and my temperature rose. Who isn’t expecting the worst in these pandemic times. I got close to calling the hospital but since I was neither coughing nor did I have breathing problems or a sore throat, I didn’t really see what they might be able to do for me and let it slip. Plus I had plans for the next morning, and they might keep me if I showed up at the ER. Instead I took another ibuprofen. This marked the first time I’ve taken two of them in a day. They’re not part of what I consider a balanced diet.
But they did the trick, the second one as much as the first. Shortly before the children’s bedtime, I was restored enough to assume my parental duties. I read books, brushed teeth and sang songs – all with increasing irritation because I hadn’t really been up for it and wanted nothing more to go back to bed, which I did at 8.
Now the magic started, the magic that had already saved me once or twice during my journey through chemotherapy, though never to my knowledge before that. While asleep I started sweating as if I were riding the trainer in a room without much airflow. An hour or so later, I woke up because I was cold. Water was evaporating from my soaked shirt taking my body’s heat with it. I changed t-shirts and then again a few hours later when the same thing happened again. The bed was like a bathtub. When Flucha touched my forehead, she said, you feel fresh, and indeed I did. The fever was gone and with it whatever infection I had harbored. Maybe a doctor would have a simple explanation, but I have a hard time rationalizing this.
The next morning, I woke up at 6, fresh like a spring chicken. I got up half an hour later to assume my Easter Bunny persona and hide (or rather liberally spread) a load of chocolates on the living-room floor. Another half hour later, the girl got up, discovered the first chocolate egg, and woke her brother to start the hunt together. I was 100% myself.
In the afternoon, we went on a bike ride by the river, my all-purpose bicycle connected to a trailer with two children inside. We found a lovely picnic spot entirely by accident. The girl fell off a tree but didn’t make a fuss about it. She’s a tough cookie when she’s trying out her skills or pushing her limits. This makes me very happy.
At night, we had a wonderful Easter dinner. Later, I skipped the ride on the trainer. Being out for an hour on a bicycle that appeared to weigh 40 kg was exercise enough. On a particularly steep section of a gravel road dusty from weeks of no rain, I had the hardest time keeping traction on the wheel. I barely made it to the top. My body was grateful for the effort I made, and I was grateful that I was able to make the effort.
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