Slow Down. You’re Doing Fine.

This week, my husband and I celebrated nine years together. He scooped me away for the night, sans little ones, to one of our more sentimental destinations, Lake Placid. We looked so forward to it: a lake view from a delicately designed log cabin, a muddled cocktail from Maggie’s Pub, perusing through my favourite family bookstore while finishing off the evening at Caffe Rustica, where I fully intended to bear down on a hefty serving of wild boar ravioli. I was suffering a little residual bit of heartburn from the night before, but I was sure that it was something that would dissipate on its own.

It didn’t. Instead it settled deeper into my belly, the right side of my body going numb. Including my face, which was a tad surreal. Sitting down to supper that night, I could have keeled over. I’m pretty tough, I’d like to think, but I bailed. I told DH that I couldn’t make it through supper and stumbled out to the truck to sit peacefully, trying not to throw up as he paid the bill.

I got a fever that night, along with stomach pains and some other symptoms that we won’t get into right now, mostly because I feel like I have to set limits to gory details. BUT—I do remember checking to ensure that our travel insurance was good to go—something I’d lapsed on during COVID.

We headed back to Canada the next day. I was sent to the ER, where they ran every test in the books, only to find that I had elevated liver enzymes. As if I had been drinking HEAVILY (this girl can barely get through a glass of wine, so NOT IT). Then more tests. And another test in a couple of weeks to see if my enzymes have lowered, but nothing conclusive. I’m feeling better now, just light-headed sometimes, so I’m trying to eat more consistently. No alcohol for a minute, but I don’t feel like rosé by the pool anyhow, given my urge to throw up here and there.

This is to say: health, folks. I’m as healthy as a horse—REALLY. I need to consider giving up poutine and dairy milk chocolate bars on cheat day, but other than that, I’m strong. I strength-train, run, follow a paleo diet most of the time. I eat meat raised on the farm, take my vitamins—have a good understanding of protein. Blah. Blah. Blah. But it goes to show how little control you have over the things that can go wrong on any given day.

You become acutely aware of all the things that you need to do and of the things you do not. This wee issue is likely just a virus, but it has put some things into perspective. Saying no, for instance. Taking space. Finding comfort in the beautiful life that we’ve shaped out here. The importance of building something of my own-and most importantly, taking joy from the moments I have with the babies. From our ever present family and friends.

Take the time to appreciate the moments. The every day ones. This was just a little hiccup for us, but it was the thing I needed to open my perspective.

So in the words of Billy Joel, “Slow down. You’re doing fine.” ❤️