Pneumonia sucks.

Maggie got the flu the week before school ended for Christmas vacation. She was completely taken down. Before I realized she had the flu, I let her sleep with me. I wanted to look after her and check her temperature during the night. It serves me right for actually caring about my teenage daughter. Then Pippa got sick. She didn’t have the flu, but a sinus and lung infection. We spent 10 days in London, UK running around like idiots. Everyone felt a little tired, but we refused to give in.

When we returned from London, I had a massive headache. I thought I was jetlagged. Then when the headache got worse and didn’t go away, I thought I had a sinus infection. I sought no professional help. Clearly, I felt like I knew my body and was some kind of an expert. I was wrong.

One day while FaceTiming my mother, she told me I looked like crap and that grown women shouldn’t have a temperature of 103° for days on end. She forced my priest to take me to the doctor.

After multiple tests, X-rays and swabs for the flu, it was determined that I had a pretty severe case of pneumonia.  I was sent home with multiple antibiotics and an inhaler.  I couldn’t leave my bed for days….even when I wanted to.  My priest began to spiral.  He cannot cook.  He cannot clean.  He CAN buy pretty flowers and he knows how to order takeout.  Thankfully we have returned to the south and people took pity on us. Food was delivered by multiple people and I had offers of so much more.

The one thing I remembered most about living in the south, was the kindness of everyone when you need it most. I remember when Pippa was born and food was delivered to our home nonstop. It made us feel so loved. This time around, with pneumonia, was no exception. Our fridge was full, my children were fed and more importantly my priest was able to just look after me. I digress….

I had signed up to do a half marathon on Hilton Head Island way back in October. I had been training for the run and was excited about completing the beautiful and flat course.  When I returned from London, I had to resume my training. I took time off while we were visiting London because we were walking 25,000 steps per day while being educated by my priest about every historical fact ever known about London. Good times.

The day we got home, I went for short run of 3 miles with a pounding headache and what I believed to be a sinus infection.  The next day, I was scheduled to run 6 miles. I told my family that I wasn’t feeling very well, but that I was sure a good run would make me feel better. I left the house and thankfully instead of running in the woods, I went to a local track. Once I am determined to do something, there is very little chance that I will get deterred. I had set out to run 6 miles, therefore I would run 6 miles.  Around mile 2 I realized I couldn’t breathe very well. I thought it was because the day was very humid and I was tired and jetlagged. Finally at mile three, I quit. I got back in my car and drove home. My priest was shocked to see me back so quickly. I told him I didn’t feel great and that I just needed to take it easy.  I knew I had a fever for days, but again ignored it.  The next day I found out I had pneumonia. I am not very smart.

It has been 6 weeks now.  I have had two chest X-rays since and I still have pneumonia.  I am still tired and I still need to use the inhaler.  You know they say a summer body is made in the winter….well this summer I am going to look like how I feel…an exhausted slug.

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