It's been three crazy weeks since I crashed my bike and landed in the hospital. I'm learning that I do, in fact, possess that folly of youth: unconsciously thinking I'm indestructible.
I've been feeling physically like shit since the crash. For several days, over a week, I didn't really pay attention to it. Then it bit me in the ass and I'm still paying dues. I should have called in sick to work earlier this week so I could spend a day in bed and sleep as much as I need to. Yesterday we got a temp that I'm in charge of, so I knew I couldn't call off today, no matter the fact that getting out of bed after a solid 8 hours of sleep was astronomically difficult.
I bit the bullet and told boss lady that I'm taking the afternoon off because I'm exhausted and it's killing my productivity anyway. I can't wait to go home. My bed is calling me.
But first I have to trek to Lincoln Park to the doctor to see all what may be causing my troubles. A very unenthusiastic yay.