Just when you thought it was safe ...
Thanks to everyone who emailed, sms-ed and called during this week when I was almost at death's door. The food poisoning that turned out to be a stomach bug that almost took me out led on to bronchitis from a reaction I had from the drips, making me bed ridden on a hospital bed for a whole week. It's been fun ... NOT!
Back on solid food (finally) the last two days but my appetite seems to have left me and I still cannot eat more than a few spoonfuls. So I reckon this blog is going to be a bit of, i.e. even more of, a bore till I get it back.
However, this incarceration has forced me to contemplate where I am going with my life. Apparently, it is going nowhere but to an early grave, according to the doctors. I need to get a grip on the 15-18-hours-days, every day work lifestyle. So, according to one doctor, even if I get a low-paying receptionist job that allows me to at least get home and have at least 8 hours sleep 7 days a week, that is preferable to a job that will kill me before I hit 40. Alarmist? Maybe. A pain in the butt? Definitely. But I think he might be on to something. The last two months have been insane and me becoming so sick and not recovering at all is not something I want to be a constant feature in my life.
Worse, I have not been dancing in any form because I have had no time. Not even in my own room. Not even marking steps in my head - the only thing that kept me going during the dark days I could not dance. Dance was taken away from me when I was in my mid- to late-20s and I had to painfully regained again. To lose it again is a slap in the face for every sweat- and pain-filled moment and step I had to take to gain the privilege to dance again. And this time, I did it to myself - not illness, not a husband, not doctors ... me. It is time to evaluate. It's scary but I will try to be brave.
I will try to update soon as I get better. Now I have to go to bed before the body breaks down even more.
Thanks again for all your concern, mates. I appreciate it.