Where Did My Zen Go?

It was appropriate that I woke up to a great big pile of doggy poo in my lounge room this morning. Appropriate because that's what all my plans for a Zen taper and a relaxed, non-stressed week leading up to the marathon have turned into - a great big pile of steaming ... You can add in your favourite faecal word.

Where's my Zen gone? It vanished the moment Iven's back (or hip - we can't work out exactly where the pain's coming from) decided to start hurting. Again! He can't sit up for long. He can't find a comfortable position to lie in. He can't walk for any long distances and by long I mean walking to the toilet and back is about his limit. He's on day 3 now and there's been absolutely no improvement. And he's getting no relief from any of the three drugs that he's tried.

The next step is going to get a CT scan but because it's been a long weekend we haven't been able to get it done yet. Hopefully he'll be able to have that tomorrow and then we might know what we're dealing with. And then maybe we'll be able to have a direction for his treatment.

But the upshot is that I'm holding out absolutely no hope that he'll be able to come to Melbourne with me. So I have a couple of options open to me. The first is to not go and pretend the last four months of hard training (to say nothing of the year of overcoming my illness) didn't happen. It would be the proper, loving-wife thing to do BUT is fraught with the danger of a resentment build-up of volcanic proportions (I never claimed to be perfect - just human and a little bit crazy). And seeing as I get most of my answers to all of life's hard questions from Modern Family I thought I should take a leaf out of Mitchell's relationship play-book.

I know that I'd be leaving him in Sam's tender care. Sam's almost a physiotherapist which means that there's be at least a chance of treatment whereas I'm just an ex-vet and my answer to all of the most tricky medical problems is euthanasia and cremation. I'm thinking Iven would vote for Sam too.

The second option is to put on my big girl panties and go alone. Umm, yeah - not really so keen on that option. Not from the stand-point of the race but because of the aeroplane that's needed to get me down to it.

And the third option (and the most appealing from my stand-point) is to talk someone into coming to Melbourne with me - all expenses paid. 

You'd think that would appeal to at least one of my boys but I'm having a hard time talking them into it. It's the short notice, the timing in relation to the university term and the fact that the return flight is late Monday afternoon. So far son #2 is my best bet. It will all depend on whether he can get Monday off at such short notice AND how well I can do the sad puppy eyes.

And at this point of desperation, long painful labour stories are not beneath me. Those ones never get old.

Wish me luck!