MY DILEMMA

I have no dilemma. That's a problem. I wanted one.

When my doctor told me on Tuesday that I wouldn't be well enough to run the Disney World Marathon next weekend, I didn't argue. I felt so lousy all I really wanted was to feel better. And when he explained that even if I did feel better I'd be at high risk of relapse if I ran, well, I couldn't argue with that, either.

Then I got home, took some medication (not sleep medication) and found that I could finally sleep, something I'd barely been able to do for the last few days. I woke up feeling better, almost human, actually. I no longer felt uncomfortable in any position and unable to stay still. I actually felt relaxed and comfy, reading the newspaper on the couch. Then I'd get drowzy, drift off and awaken an hour later thinking that maybe all I really needed was to sleep.

So I started to feel better. My head cleared enough to focus. I wasn't sneezing, blowing my nose or coughing constantly. Still there was congestion in my chest when I took a deep breath and that's no good. But all the improvements were making me hopefull. What if I slept more, healed more, breathed easy and got my energy back? What if the antibiotic really proved to be a wonder drug? And sometimes I'm a fast healer; what if I healed fast this time? I know I would think about the Marathon. I know I'd wonder if my doctor was being overly cautous. I know I'd think that maybe I could still do it and do it well. But I'd also think that maybe the risk for relapse was real. Of course I'd know that it was undoubtably real. But should I take the risk? But for what? After all, I could hardly expect myself to run the marathon well given all I was going through, my weakened state and the missed training. Could I? Because, on the other hand, I'd already put in plenty of training, I was definitely ready and, who knows, maybe I could pull it off!

So this is the dilemma I expected to have. The dilemma I WANTED to have. But only if I felt good enough to have it.

Alas, I don't.

While other things have improved I can feel that nothing much has changed with my breathing. I still get that funny, almost ticklish sensation in my chest (lungs, probably) when I take a deep breath. And running requires lots of oxygen and lots of breathing.

So there's no real dilemma. I spoke to my doctor this morning. He said that my slow recovery "was not atypical for the course." Though the lab work to determine whether I had pneumonia wasn't back, my blood chemistry had returned. Everything was fine. Though I obviously had an infection of some kind it is unlikely to be severe since that wasn't reflected by my blood levels.

That's at least reassuring. Because while I fantasize about a speedy recovery I also fear something serious.

Now I guess my dilemma is how to cope with all this inactivity. I haven't been to the office since Tuesday, I can't do anything active and it gets uncomfortable to talk to anyone at length. I've appreciated all the calls to see how I am, but the talk ratio I need is about 85% you to 15% me. That doesn't always happen.

I've played lots of Texas Hold-em on line poker and done quite well, winning several thousand dollars. In one tournament I finished 4th out of over 2600 participants and won $6500. All play money! But at least I'm getting some competition.

I read the papers and magazines and books. I watch TV. I've discovered HBO on demand and further discovered that I can figure out how to use it. First seasons of Ali G and Curb Your Enthusiasm. Not bad to be confined with that!

Still, it's depressing. I don't have my marathon to aim for or my dilemma to wrestle with. And it really bothers me that this thing in my chest doesn't seem to be improving. I guess that makes me feel that I'm not progressing. A week ago I had the marathon to progress for. I had all the things that go with it...checking on the long range weather, considering what I'd take to refuel along the way, thinking about my goals and what the right initial race pace would be.... All the things I love to dwell upon!

Now, nothing. That feels a little empty. A little sad. This competition was central to my focus and a priority. Then, just like that, it's gone. All I can do now is concentrate on getting better. But for that my body seems to have a mind of its own.