Stress

There's an old chest nut about how you spend ninety percent of all the healthcare money that you'll ever spend in the last six months. Following that logic I may have just slept through my own funeral. As we've discussed, a year ago I was running people ragged in Jordan, Namibia, and India, and now walking is sometimes somewhere between inelegant and a challenge. Over the last six months, not counting innumerable COVID tests and soon to be two COVID vaccinations, I've seen around ten doctors, had a battery of blood work, had two MRIs, an EMG, a visit to Urgent Care, an epidural, knee surgery, waiting on my neurologist appointment, and have had to adapt to weekly physical therapy - and that's not even mentioning the fucking Neti-Pot. Oh, and now we get to add a stress test. Happily, apparently my heart is fine, so, to quote Bill Murray, I got that going for me. It's mainly gallows humor that is helping me get through this stretch. 

I tried to reach a level of zen by focusing on the print, which is why I'm sure it is hanging there. I did better than I thought, and my surgically repeated knee actually didn't bark too terribly.