Uncategorized

Everything’s Fine Until It Isn’t And That’s Fine

Everything was fine.

I was shocked. I’ve spent all week hoping and praying and betting that by the time today rolled around, I’d be once again writhing in pain, and I’d have to cancel my lunch plans.

But I woke up and wasn’t immediately hit with the urge to roll over. The fatigue went down to a manageable level.

I wasn’t nauseous as I cooked my breakfast and brewed my coffee.

I didn’t even have the urge to plug in my diffuser to keep symptoms at bay for just a bit longer. I plugged it in anyway, but I actually just got to enjoy the yummy lemon and rosemary aroma that filled my apartment.

I wanted to have an early lunch, so that I wouldn’t end up stuck in a super busy and loud restaurant during prime lunch time.

So, lunch was scheduled for 11AM.

I found the cutest little French restaurant in the heart of Tosa. Parking was a nightmare, but everything about this place made me forget about having to awkwardly back my tank into an extra narrow spot on a one way street.

It was the perfect place to catch up with my lifelong best friend. I kid you not, I’ve known this girl since before elementary school, and magically after 4 moves, it’s like we never were apart.

We both selected a small crepe entre stuffed with dayboat scallops, braised leeks, and saxon farmed cheese topped with the worlds most savory citrus brown butter. We then considered just dropping out of school to become restaurant critics because the crepes were just that good.

As our lunches were finished and our coffee’s began to be finished, the restaurant filled up. There had maybe been one or two other groups of people their when we got there. But now its full.

The wave of noise crashed over me. I’m sure at that point my eyes kind of glossed over a bit too.

I could tell that conversation was getting harder. I could tell I was starting to breathe deeper.

I made a small comment about how we really got their at a great time. I think she could tell I wasn’t doing as great as I had been, as all she said was “We’ll be out of here soon.”

She was right, within a few minutes we had paid and were headed down to the pastry bar to grab some dessert to go.

But, we weren’t out yet. While waiting to use the restroom, I noticed the floor. It had been done in the most intricate black and white patterned tiles. The pattern was really small. Actually, I’m not convinced that tiny pattern wasn’t dancing along to the combined music and voices of the now thriving restaurant. I had to consciously convince myself not to look down until I had left the building.

We picked out our desserts and were on our way. It was really a great lunch out.

By the time I had driven a few blocks the rain started.

By the time I’d driven maybe 10 minutes, I was aware of my jaw. I’ve never really known what this sensation is, but I typically experience it before any pain sets in or after the pain has subsided. It’s like the tissue where my jaw links to my skull expands. Or maybe like I really need to pop my jaw.

Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was that great buttery sauce. Maybe it was the 3rd coffee I splurged on. Maybe it was the noise. Maybe I had just hit the point in my day where I would have started feeling off regardless of if I had gone out or stayed in.

Whatever it is, I’m now in a fog. I don’t quite want to nap, but I don’t have the energy to make a real dinner (yay for leftovers).

I wish I understood how this works. But I won’t let not knowing deter me from quite literally forcing myself to make plans and forcing myself to adjust my way of thinking to stop making assumptions about how I’ll feel on any given day.

I mean, my head hurts everyday. I never know when it’ll be a 4 or a 10. So why play a guessing game when I can just try to live my life on my terms.

A.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s