23 June 2006I was supposed to have my cycle ergometer test this morning at 7:30, but was to sick to go. I felt bad about it too. I had spent the entire night coughing, I lost track of how many times I woke up heaving and looked at the red lights at my alarm clock flashing 1:00 am 2:00 am 3:00 am and so on. The whole time, even though my body was shaking because I was coughing so herd, I would think “I can still make it, I can do it.” Silly Becca. By 6:00 when my alarm went off, my face felt hollow, my entire body hurt like the dickens, and I knew I couldn’t make it. This test was going to be looking at my breathing for goodness sakes; my cold would no doubt skew the results. So, poor Ricki got a call on her cell phone from me bright and early, saying I can’t make it. She was so nice about the whole things it made me feel less bad about having to cancel my appointment.
I went to the doctor and I’m fine actually, just a virus. I have to let it runs its course, take a prescription a few times, rest and drink a lot of fluids. I needs to cut down on my soda intake anyway, otherwise the first week or two of the study are going to be painful.
I’m getting really excited about everything. Well about 90% excited and 10% scared shitless. This is a big fucking commitment that could change my life. I know once I get into bed I’ll be able to do it, some days are going to be hard, but I can do it.