Rest and Heal

I’ve been sick much of this year. Don’t worry, nothing serious. Nothing permanent. A cold after Christmas. Then at my mom’s 80th birthday party in late January, I contracted the worst case of food poisoning or lactose intolerance or something that I’ve ever had. I lost eight pounds that night and it took several days to recover. Another cold before and after a February vacation. And then in late March my body kind of sputtered along with a mild virus before the bottom fell out a week later. Febrile for two weeks, weak and tachycardic for nearly a month. One virus on another on another is my best guess.

The devices I wear know me better than I know myself. A Whoop, a Garmin and an Apple watch. My resting heart rate rises and heart rate variability falls hours before I realize I’m getting sick. Respirations and temperature are high. Heart rate recovery delayed after mild exercise… I became obsessed with lowering my resting heart rate. When I’m well, it is in the mid-40s. At the peak of my illnesses, it was over 70. December was the last month my average was in the 40’s.

I could go on. And if you were my sister or Kari or one of my two Whoop wearing friends at the hospital I would.

But all of this is to say that I have realized this year that health is a gift and not a given. And that when my health is poor, the best thing I can do is to simplify.

To do things like going to bed earlier and sleeping as late as possible.

Cutting back on obligations and noncritical meetings.

Talking less, driving in silence, limiting unnecessary stimulation. No podcasts or music.

Avoiding drama.

Going to work and then getting home and into bed.

Drinking water. And coconut water. Cutting back even further on carbohydrates. No exercise.

Simply waiting and being still.

Allowing my body to heal.

Allowing others to help.

And as my body recovers I’ve been slow to begin exercising, using my devices to guide the intensity and duration. All in good time. The same with extra stimulation and obligations. Slowly, slowly.

Our bodies are miracles. Our lives are miracles. And the communities that allow us space to heal are miracles as well.

Holy One, we thank you for our bodies and for those that care for us. We thank you for our lives. Amen

Brandon is a member of Peace Church and is glad it is finally May.