It's a so-so afternoon here at home. I should be behind a computer. Well not this one, which is my laptop. My office one. I should be taking phone calls from doctors, processing their malpractice premium payments, reviewing their policies. I am home. I should be working with my colleagues on the incentive program I am a part of at work for recognizing a doctor's long term loyalty to our company. I am sitting in my room contemplating what to have for lunch and hearing the traffic outside. It's a so-so afternoon. My body is not ready.

Yesterday should have been the day I returned to see my friends and "family," my second family at work. Instead I have another 10 weeks to being better. Seems a bitter pill to swallow but surprisingly I am actually not complaining. Am I sad, yes. But there is a reason. My body is not ready.

I have had more pokes and prods, more finger sticks, Ketone tests, ultrasounds, ER visits, EKGs, internists, residents, medical school students, and practitioners scan, examine, x-ray, and ponder why my physical body is not cooperating with the goals I want for it. And in the next 10 weeks, they'll continue to do that. My body is not ready.

I have tried to keep my mind sharp, my humor and my faith co-existent, and think about things other than my health. Helps the Bruins and Canucks are playing in the Stanley Cup Finals right now, but um do not tell my cardiologist that or I will be back for an ER visit that wasn't planned. I've been learning new software to use at work, I have been keeping my mind busy on many pursuits. I have been studying for my notary exam in July to renew my commission. I have been working slowly to try to sell my trailer and move into a better place. I have been awake early every day and going non-stop. I have tweeted, twitted, linkedin'd, facebooked, blogged, written in my journal, written in my log book, typed at my computer all of my daily progressions. My mind IS sharp. My body is not ready.

It barks at me, yells at me, tells me "I cannot take it. You're pushing me too hard. You're doing this to me to torture me." My body is tired. My brain is running a mile a minute. My energy level goes from 100 to zero faster than a luxury car can go from zero to 60. I know this from every test I do. Numbers come back. I do the crunching in my mind. I see the results in my Excel charts. I know what is happening. So does my body. My body is not ready.

I do not know what is making me more stir crazy. The fact I am living with several chronic diseases, the inability to work, or that my goals do not seem to be achieved. Or is it a combination of all of the above? I keep asking myself these questions and the proverbial one constantly is "why?" It prefaces almost every question I have. Whether I have asked my doctor, endocrinologist, vascular surgeon, cardiologist, ophthalmologist, internist, and even my pharmacist, I feel like the little kid constantly asking "why, why, why, why?" My brain is on speed cycle. It wants answers, now/ But there is only one answer. My body is not ready.

So, what is the moral of this posting? Even when your disease gets the best of you physically, you have to let it run its own course. Yes, there may be times when you may feel your disease will prevent you from achieving goals in your life. Yes, you may also have to prepare for certain life events to happen. The possibility of my condition being no longer a short term disability but a long term one has had to cross my mind. Am I scared? Am I frightened? I would be a bold face, double dog dared liar if I said I was not. But, even with that possibility lingering in the back of my mind and within the corners of a weakened heart (emotionally), I am not afraid to admit my body is not ready. Just yet.