I went to the International housewares Show in Chicago a week or so ago. My best friend went with me and we had the great time I knew we were going to. I also knew I was going to be sore at the end of the day, but I had no idea what was going to hit me and for how long.
We saw some of my favorite chefs and ate some amazing food. In case you don’t know McCormick place is huge and we figured we walked 10 miles. I wasn’t surprised when I was watching the news about it and they said there were 13 miles of exhibits. We just kept moving until it was time to take the train home. I think when we sat down we started to get an idea of what we were in for as every muscle we had started to seize up, one at a time. All we could do was laugh about it, I’m sure the steps disembarking the train were twice as steep as they were when we climbed on them. The next day was even worse than the night before. I could not move. The neuropathy in my feet made going to the bathroom an excercise in torture that I had never experienced with quite that intensity. As much as I’m in the hospital and with all that’s wrong with me, when rating my pain it was never a 10, 8 or 9 once in a while but never a 10. That day it was a 10 all day.
The next day was probably about 25 percent better and better each day after that. So the question everyone is asking me is am I going back next year. The answer is a resounding yes! I’m going to do what’s important to me, regardless of the price I’m going to pay. I will not be defined by illness and I’m going to keep going as long as I can.