There Is No Free Lunch

I am reminded today that just because I have these awesome little creatures doing their best to bring my immune system under control, I am NOT off the hook for doing MY best to bring my immune system under control.  That is to say, I am still responsible for taking care of myself; I have not abdicated that responsibility just because someone else is on the job.

To explain: I just came home from a long weekend with friends in the mountains.  And although we sell it to ourselves as four days of playing in the snow, the truth is (for me, at least) that it is an extended opportunity to eat, drink, and shun sleep in favor of booze-fueled late night snowshoe expeditions.  I don't want to make it sound like I run with a pack of gluttons, but the truth is, we love good food, good drink, and each other enough to spend days on end indulging ourselves, with breaks in the action for a little skiing, a little sledding, a little snowshoeing, etc. 

I was nervous about this trip.  I had no idea how my tummy would deal with all the mayhem I was about to throw at it.  I was worried how I would do in a house of 16 adults, 8 kids, and 7 dogs (and three bathrooms.)  Add to that the fact that my safety net, John, wouldn't be there, and I was not sure what to expect.  But for the most part, my delicate system dealt pretty well.  Sure, my tummy hurt pretty much the whole time, I passed a fair amount of blood every time I went to the bathroom, and I felt the need to back off some of those outdoor activities, given the uncertain proximity to the loo.  But there were no "urgency emergencies,"  I didn't have to jump out of bed in the morning to run to the bathroom once, and I even got to enjoy my morning coffee without much ado.

And now, I ask you to re-read that paragraph and tell me what's wrong here.  Go ahead.  I'll wait while you re-read it.

Done?  OK, so did you notice that my whole attitude was about what my tummy did to me to make my life a challenge and not at all about what I did to make life hard on my tummy?  Let's start with the most obvious: food.  Who in their right mind thinks they can eat two Thanksgiving-sized meals a day, plus plentiful snacks, without repercussion?  And really, I shouldn't be chugging the amount of coffee that I did on this trip, but it seemed like the thing to do, especially since I was chronically tired from going to bed a little too late and tossing and turning a bit due to the stomach cramps.  Which brings up the issue of sleep: I know as well as I know my own name that getting too little sleep, and especially in a "travel" situation, is asking for trouble.  At least I was smart enough to not put myself in the situation where I would need to find a bathroom ASAP out in the middle of a snowshoe hike, but maybe there would not have been any reason to fear that if I had not filled my system with lots of rich foods, a fair amount of beer, and plenty of salty/sweet snacks.

Given all this, I'm pleased that I survived the weekend OK, but the uncanny thing is that I was not 15 minutes into the hour and a half ride home before I had to find a bathroom ASAP.  The poor ladies at the gas station were totally startled as I came flying into the store and flung myself down the hall to the restroom, where I locked myself for a good 10 minutes.  I got home fine after that, but my whole afternoon was one trip to the bathroom after another until I finally fell asleep on the sofa.  Sometimes, my body gives me a break when it needs to, but the bill always comes due.

So I got my come-uppance (and I'm still getting it today, unfortunately.)  And even though I know this already, I am reminded oh-so-vividly that I am still responsible for taking care of myself, and my whipworms are just one tool I have to do that.  I still need to watch what I eat, get a decent amount of exercise, and heed my body's cries for ample sleep.  If I don't do these things, or at least make a good faith effort, it will not matter how many pills I take, how many Remicade infusions I get, or how many helminths I have burrowing into my colon--I will still be sick.  It's just a reminder that the Union is a team, we're all working toward the same goal, and it's no fair if I sabotage the team's effort by not controlling the things I--and only I--can.

The next time I'm indulging myself (and let's face it: there WILL be a next time) I'm going to remind myself that as much as I love good food, good drink, and good times with good friends, there is no free lunch.  You're gonna pay, and maybe, just maybe, it's better to pay upfront by missing out on a few big meals, a couple of tasty beers, or a couple of late nights than it is to make life that much harder on the Union.