So last week, I was pretty sure I had a serious case of pneumonia because my lungs hurt. Turns out I had a serious case of overactive imagination. The previous week my sister had gone to a funeral for one of her coworkers who'd died of complications with pneumonia at the age of 41. He wasn't HIV positive or old, which is who I think of dying of pneumonia. So, naturally, my acute bronchitis turned into a fatal case of pneumonia.
My doctor told me to get over myself in a very tactful way. He laughed at me twice. (Well, it was a good-natured chuckle.) It was what I needed to hear. I felt so much better the next day when I realized I wasn't going to die next month... it was a real weight off.
Now I'm getting back into running after a 3-4 week hiatus. Ouch. And, I did about 20 minutes of yoga. My pathetic little muscles were quivering with fatigue from stretching. I'm giving myself two weeks to get back into the swings. I'm back on my vitamins and everything.
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