138 days. That's how long I've been affected by my CFS. Seems like a long time when I say it like that. Perhaps 4 months and 2 weeks is a better way to track the time? Not sure, but let me quickly cover that span of time and get things up to date...
I've read that many people who have a sudden onset to their CFS can remember the exact day or even moment that they started feeling sick. I'm one of those people. Not because I've got a great memory or anything. No, I can remember the moment because it was a pretty significant and fun day that it all came about.
On September 24th, 2007 I went on a 50 mile charity bike ride in Sandy Hook, NJ with a friend and fellow triathlete. I know for some folks 50 miles sounds like a lot, and it is, but for me at the time a 50 mile ride on the weekend was the standard long training ride. Something I usually did either in Prospect Park, Brooklyn where I live or, if I wanted something more challenging, after a short drive up to Harriman State Park, NY. However, this specific weekend, my buddy suggested a change of pace. Just something to break the routine. So down to NJ we drove.
The ride was beautiful. Great weather, cool people, easy pace. We even stopped 3 or 4 times for snacks and drinks. All in all it was a really chill and peaceful day. However, on the drive back I started feeling weird. My throat started getting scratchy and I felt far more tired than I should have for the effort I put out that day. I wrote it off to maybe being slightly dehydrated and tried to drink extra fluids through the rest of the evening. I went to bed feeling pretty wiped out.
The next day I woke up with a pretty bad sore throat and an overwhelming feeling of fatigue. I could barely get out of bed so I stayed home from work and just tried to sleep it off. But to no avail. I woke up the next day feeling even worse. My throat hurt so bad it felt like it had been slashed, I had a fever of 102º and could barely sit up. Not being one to really enjoy going to the doctor I tried again to take it easy and sleep it off. I took some Advil and went back to bed.
Thursday morning. Worse. Time to call the doctor. Unfortunately, my regular doctor couldn't see me until Tuesday, but there was no way I could make it until then. I could barely swallow ice water so I call a friend who's a doctor and asked him to come over an check me out. He stopped by on Friday afternoon, looked at my throat and confirmed my suspicions -- strep -- and prescribed 10 days of penicillin.
After three days on the penicillin I felt worlds better. Everything was starting to hurt less. Over the next two weeks I regained my energy and thought I was on the road to recovery. And for the most part I did, but I couldn't kick this nagging feeling of fatigue and malaise. I was going back to work, but could barely make it through the day I was so tired. I just felt drained and exhausted. I figured it was a combination of being sick, the antibiotics (which I've hardly ever taken in my life) and the fact that I had been moving through a peak period in my training. My body was just telling me to slow down, take it easy and get healthy.
If I had only know what was really going on.
To be continued...
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