Ewwy Gooey

When I was little, like most kids, I liked to recite silly little poems.  This was one of my favorites:

*ahem*
Ewwy Gooey was a worm,
And a wise old worm was he.
He sat upon the railroad tracks,
But the train, he did not see!
EWWY GOOEY!!!


*bows*

I think I particularly liked very emotionally & dramatically declaring "EWWY GOOEY" at the end.  It was a very guttural release for a little girl to whom many things were quite icky in every day life.

I'm a visual thinker, and in my little head, the train that gooey-ed Ewwy looked something like this.

Image found here.  Anyone else see a smilie face on the front of the engine?

Like Ewwy, and most of my fellow "sickies" or chronic patients, I sometimes feel as if I sat too long upon the railroad tracks.  Familiar is the tingling of the rails beneath my bottom as this locomotive approaches; unmistakable is the sound of its stern whistle informing me my stubbornness isn't going to stop its progress.  And inevitable is my abasement as I lie on the couch, a gooey mess, knowing had I responded to the warnings I might have avoided or at least minimized the damage.

When hit by this train, I can at least say "well, I should have seen it coming", or "I saw it coming but because of [feeble excuse] I couldn't get out of the way".  Sometimes, I even take heed of the warning signs and move my tail feathers to safer ground!  This train is at least a vocal threat.

Once in a while, though, I find myself blindsided.  I'm pretty sure when that happens, my friendly locomotive above is parked in the station house and this sneaky substitute has barreled down on me.

Photo found here.

Aptly named the "Bombardier", this is one of the fastest trains in the world.  To lowly little wormies like Ewwy and myself, by the time we'd feel this puppy coming it would be too late to flee, and I think his blunt nose would explain the full-body-slam-into-the-ropes sensation that leaves me reeling.  In contrast to the "coulda, shoulda, woulda" retrospective when obliterated by the locomotive, while I can usually think back and identify what sent this sleek liner on its path I can't identify the warning signs that would help me prepare for another confrontation in the future.

The Bombardier and I had one such encounter yesterday.  I can think back over my week and cite the following likely instigators: high stress (personal & work-related) last weekend, 3 hours of sleep Sunday night before rising at 3:30am Monday morning, high physical & emotional stress on Monday taking my parents to the hospital for my dad's surgery, the relief Monday night when everything went well (I usually have my biggest reactions when the adrenaline wears off after an event), high pressure at work trying to finish up some projects, and inadequate sleep during the week.

Before you decide I'm oblivious, I want to point out I had no way to avoid any of these stressors, and that I actually did consider them throughout the week.  I'm not new to this ride, and at each of the above mentioned steps along the way I had the thought "oh boy this is going to be a doozy".  I was looking for the smoke, listening for the wailing whistle, and waiting for the distant rumble underfoot.  And they never came.  One day at a time, I made it through the week.  Tuesday I was exhausted, Wednesday I was focused, and Thursday, I was resigned.  But come Friday morning, I was still worming my way through the day.  I actually woke up a little more easily and powered through several to-do items at work.  In the middle of the week, I had decided I'd block off Saturday for extra sleep and sedentary rest, and it looked like I had made it to the promised land.

NOT.  By the time I got home from work yesterday, I found myself inexplicably smooshed.  All of a sudden I realized I had everything from tingling extremities to debilitating brain fog, not to mention extreme exhaustion, poor balance, and a widespread headache.  Eating dinner took the edge of panic off the situation, but did little else to improve my status.  So once again, Shawn handed me 800mg of ibuprofen (and instructed my fatigue-addled self to swallow them with the water suddenly in my grasp), helped me into my pajamas, and coaxed me into bed after I started to doze off while puddled on the couch.  As an indication of just how thoroughly nasty I felt, my contacts were bothering me so I had to put on my glasses (anyone who knows me is aware this is a bad sign - a very bad sign), which only added to the dizziness.

If anyone sees the Bombardier out and about, let me know where...and stay clear of this most dangerous of transporters.  That sucker means business!