There’s a Japanese proverb that says, “Fall down seven times, get up eight.” That was a scary reality of mine this past Monday evening.
In December I went home to my family to enjoy Christmas break with them. While there, I developed a fever and a deep cough in my lungs. I slept for two days and was back in action but with my cough. I carried it during my Disney marathon and still have it lingering as I type this.
This past Monday evening I was going out for my usual bike ride when my attention drifted for a just a thousandth of a second. Consequently, my bike and I raced off the concrete path of safety and in the woods encompassed by trees, roots, mulch, and danger. My bike crashed into a tree and lay flat on my bloodied body. I brushed myself off and made the decision to keep riding the last 7 miles.
To make matters worse, the more the week went long the more tired I got. No matter how much sleep I got, nothing seemed to matter. This morning, I woke up to an extremely sore throat. After talking to my family, I finally caved in and went to my first ever Urgent Care.
I’ve always dreaded going to the doctor when I get sick. There’s just something about being in a doctor’s office surrounded by others that are just as sick as me that I’ve avoided for decades. But to my surprise, the doctor welcomed me, told me it wasn’t as bad I thought I was, gave me a prescription, and begged me to rest, doctor’s orders.
What I didn’t consider all these years was that I was the one avoiding help. I figured a week or two on medicine. For the most part, it worked an extra week or two later. “I’m young. I’ll live.” I’d think to myself. But the over-the-counter medicine just masked the problem. There are times when problem is minor and you despite the bruises you can keep going. But there’s other times when problem is too painful and seeking help is perfectly okay.
My doctor’s orders to you are if you have some illness, addiction, inner pain, tell someone who can help you. You got this!
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