What happens when you push your body too hard too early

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I made an appointment for the Chicklet at 9:00am this morning with an ENT surgeon, as recommended by her orthodontist.  We’ve already established that she needs braces (7K ouch!) but he felt that she needed to see an ENT surgeon about her adenoids.  News to me, but that’s a different blog post.

I made the appointment early so that she would miss as little school as possible. She has already missed several days of school and its week four of the term.  So I took the 9am appointment.

Mistake.

I cannot get my body moving that early. Being there at 9am means leaving the house at 8:30am.  Which means having a shower at 8am.  Which, perhaps if I’d gotten up at 6am would have been doable, but I got up at normal time, 7am.  I need at least 2 hours of waiting for the pain meds to kick in and doing slow stretches and gradually moving my joints before I can actually get moving.

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I didn’t have that time this morning and it did not go well.  This body will not be rushed.  I felt heavy headed, in pain and cranky.  That’s normal.  But by the time I got to the surgeon’s rooms I was feeling dizzy and exhausted.  Throughout the consult I struggled to focus.  He bluntly told the Chicklet that she will need surgery, which, in hindsight, I think is a steaming pile of horseshit.  Yes, I’m cynical. No, after more than ten years of dealing with doctors, I don’t consider them ‘godly’ and always right.

Although my bad moodiness could be the cause of my doubts.

The right sided, stabbing headache started up, and became more intense.  I started feeling extremely nauseous and was very happy to get out of there. Back to my car, try to drink some water.

The Chicklet promptly had an anxiety attack, so I had to stop and spend some time talking her down.

Dickhead doctors.  I know it’s a very simple surgery, but to the Chicklet its terrifying. She was in full blown panic attack, refusing to have the surgery and using all kinds of new descriptive words to express her feelings on the subject.

I told her to put it out of her mind, because I have my doubts that the surgery is necessary.

I drove her to school (20 minutes) feeling ever more nauseous and dizzy.  Felt a lot like a sugar hypo, but I had breakfast, loaded with carbs.  It wasn’t a hypo.

It’s not good driving a car feeling like you’re going to pass out. I was very glad to drop the Chicklet off.  I then drove myself the 12 minutes home, feeling sleepy all the way.  Exhausted. More than fatigue.

I tried to drink some water, threw that back up.  I’ve been told to eat salty things, but there was nothing I could get down.  I sat on the couch, world spinning.  Sent a few emails.  Then I went to sleep.  It wasn’t really a faint, but it wasn’t an optional thing either.  I was just finally home and in a place where I could let my body collapse, and collapse it did.

Its four hours later now, and I still feel rotten.  I have some admin-ey type stuff to do. Appointments to re-arrange.  Scans to send to my immunologist. (have to finish that post too).  I feel feverish and nauseous and dizzy still, but it’s much better than it was.  And I have to try and stay awake, despite wanting desperately to go back to sleep.

I want to achieve something.  Not let the day be a complete write off, all because I tried to get moving a little earlier than my body likes.

Lesson learnt.  No more 9am appointments.

Body 1, Me 0.

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