She limps! She eats!
My friend the ever-wonderful Finny just wrote about doing an 11 mile run in preparation for a mini-marathon she's running in 3 weeks. Yeah....right.

These days I get winded walking from the sofa to the kitchen. I know I have an excuse: I haven't eaten in 18 months. I've nibbled, I've zarfed. I've eaten, and I've zarfed. I've done nothing, and still I zarf. If I were a superhero I'd be BarfGirl, the worst superhero ever. To fight crime all I'd have to do is eat a cracker then point my super self at the evil-doer and I'd throw up all over their nasty shoes. They're not going to be making a cartoon of me anytime soon.

I envy people like Finny who have bodies that work. Mine hasn't since, oh, about 1980. But the past 18 months have been a cavalcade of awful. Even though I'm not in the hospital, I'm still sick. I'm still doing the zarf tango at unpredictable moments. Today I did get all crazy and wild and went out to breakfast with Husband. I had two or three bites of his scrambled egg and one half of a half of piece of toast. Oh yeah, and a glass of milk. I eat like I'm 80.

I move like it too. I'm not limping, but I am wobbling. Most of my food this week came in an IV bag. Now that I'm unhooked, i eat very little and it feels like very much. After today's tiny breakfast I swear it felt like I'd just come from an all-you-can-eat hot fudge sundae buffet. But I'm trying to eat when (and if) I can so that I can get some strength back. Honestly this weak-as-a-newborn-kitten feeling is getting old.

So Finny's exploits have inspired me. Not to run 11 miles (who the fuck am I kidding?) but to completely appreciate how good it'll feel when this is all over. I long for the day when I can do basic things like have dinner with my husband in public. Take a walk without having to sit down every 15 feet. Do laundry without having to take a nap afterwards.

Oh the joys of not zarfing! People, enjoy your health.