So, I used to be in the USAF. I used to belong to an MMA Club. I used to do obstacle races. I used to be a great runner. I used to be that bull-headed guy that was still working when other people had quit. I used to do CrossFit, be on a rowing team, and practice Olympic Lifts with a guy. I used to fence, play racquetball, go on insane hikes, dump the sweat out of my boots after HAZMAT gear came off. I used to run into burning buildings for my "hobby." I could thrive on light sleep, eat anything I want, and I felt like I could do any physical task I put my mind on. I was invincible.

I reflected on all this, in the hospital bed during my second night in a row, while hooked up to a monitor after a day where I thought "fuck, I hope I don't have to run for my stress test - maybe I'll get the chemical one." I have always struggled with my own mental health triad of depression, anxiety and ADHD. I was comfortable in it. Until my blood pressure got a little high one night after a day of horrible eating and sent me into a spiral where the blood pressure and anxiety fed into each other and the blood pressure cuff would no longer read. Then the chest pressure started. And radiated down my arm. My pulse got up in the 150s. My feet were bouncing. Sweat was dripping down my face. Test results begat more test results. I'm anemic. Potassium is low. Cholesterol is astronomical. Blood pressure is 150/110 unmedicated. I'm full of inflammation, a new set of bloodwork from a hematologist is pointing to something autoimmune but I have more tests before I know. Polymyositis fits the bill the best, and matches my test results so far, but no confirmation yet. I was in the middle of a sleep study the night this went down - and it's come back with obstructive sleep apnea. I have a giant pill organizer now, where I didn't even have any prescriptions a month ago.

Life came at me hard the last few years. Having kids, several new jobs, a cross-country move, several close family members dying, a close mentor dying of cancer, my best friend dying of cancer, my marriage almost ending, losing my social network due to a long distance move and corona, some financial trouble, the roof of my new house caving in, my wife being admitted to the psych unit and an indescribable clusterfuck around that that changed so many external relationships, selling off a brand new business property at a loss to make our move happen, etc. etc. But I didn't ever seem to truly grasp the change between point A and point B, even though it was to the tune of 110lbs. I don't even want to compare to old knowns - what I would score on a PT test, what my 1RMs for all the big lifts are now, how fast I can run a half-marathon.

The last few weeks have been quite the wake-up call. I have to eat better, I have to manage my weight, I have to get my ass in the gym. Ostensibly, I've always needed to do these things, but something about spending several days in a hospital gown getting worked over really puts it in razor sharp focus.