Flattened by an old friend

When the doctors told me to expect fatigue, I thought, No problem. Fatigue and I are old friends. We've slogged together through grad-school seminars, paper-grading marathons, frantic late-night feats of journalism, cross-country relocations, and all-night sleep-deprivation sessions involving sick or screaming children. When a clear goal beckons, I don't mind working myself beyond the point of exhaustion--as long as I can rest and recharge when it's over.

Now, though, I'm seeing a whole new side of my old friend Fatigue. I feel the way the word "fatigue" sounds: flat and flabby, lacking the ability to make any impact on my environment. For the past three days I've done nothing more demanding than walk from the sofa to the bathroom, but every cell in my body desperately wants to go to sleep right now. Sleep, though, doesn't help: I wake up not refreshed but still fatigued, wanting to get up and get moving but lacking the energy to pull up my socks.

I keep reminding myself that this is just temporary. One of these days I'll welcome the old-style fatigue that comes from tackling a task that demands every ounce of energy I can muster. Today, on the other hand, I'll sit on the sofa and watch the birds, sip some ginger ale, take the occasional snooze, and fondly recall the fun times I once had with my old friend Fatigue.