I suppose I forgot. With all the glitter and feathers and glorious, glorious purples all around us, I was lulled into forgetfulness. But that 20/20 hindsight soon kicks into high gear, especially when you’re waiting for an hour or more in a waiting room or examination room, and then I remember the clues. The twinges of pain Sunday morning and Monday morning. The low energy which I thought was a symptom of a ressaca do carnaval(post-Carnaval “hangover”, quite similar to the post-race blues I experience after half-marathons). The inability to sleep on either side without discomfort Thursday night worried me most. Friday morning it became all too familiar. 

I am so in tune with my body now that I know when something has shifted. So in saying I forgot, I have not forgotten that my health must come first. I remember to take my daily pills. I know to call the doctor as soon as I notice something. I know to take the earliest appointments. I remember the pain and its accompanying emotions; I can admit I purposefully let go of my memories of those. Now I accept them. I let the tears fall, if only in the safety of my car in the hospital parking lot. I ask the questions of God and my body, if only in my head.

Since my last relapse, I have learned how to better manage my illness. Through the work I did with M’s wonderful counselor, I know to keep any negative emotions or serious conversations about my health private, shared only with Rambo or other adults. In terms of my physical health, I know the next steps well and can mentally prepare myself for the physical discomforts that may result. I know to pray and pray some more. I know to ask for prayers. 

This morning, I registered for my 16^thhalf-marathon to be done this November. Because I know to move forward.