When the Body Objects

I was all set to write my next newsletter. But I was tired.

Not the usual tired, but the kind that seeps into every bone and makes you want to lie down. Like, right now. And my back was sore—tender to the touch, with a constant, throbbing ache.

Saturday morning, I woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept. I knew I had. I’d even fallen asleep early the night before. But I could barely hold myself up. My feet were dragging. I even tripped over myself.

By the afternoon, I knew trying to stay upright and keep moving was a useless exercise. So I had a nap.

What’s unusual about this is that if I nap during the day, I will invariably be up all night. I won’t fall asleep easily or early. Most of the time, when I try to take a snooze, I can’t fall asleep at all.

Unless I’m sick.

But I didn’t feel sick.

Anyway, I was down for the count. Out like a light. A couple of hours later, I woke up and still felt tired. So tired that I went to bed early again.

The next morning? A repeat of the day before. And that afternoon? Same thing. Another nap.

“Why am I so tired?” I asked my husband.

“Maybe you’re still catching up on sleep from our trip,” he said.

No. I didn’t think that was what was happening.

“Maybe it’s a fibromyalgia flare. Or maybe I’m coming down with something?”

But there was no fever.

Well, my body was trying to tell me something, and all I could do was give in to it and stop pushing myself.

I’ve written a few articles this past year about slowing down, listening to my body, and resting. But when symptoms appear, the first thing that happens is the defence attorney shows up.

My body: “I’d like to report several concerning symptoms.”

Kathie: “In its defence, Your Honour, it has fibromyalgia, had cancer, is taking a GLP-1, slept funny, may be dehydrated, and the weather is lovely.”

My body: “I object.”

I’m pleased the objection has finally been sustained.

By Monday morning, it was clear that something was going on. Call the doctor. Get a requisition for tests.

There was blood in my urine.

Kidney infection? Bladder infection? We’d see what the culture said.

Okay. I couldn’t contextualize this one.

I should have known when the exhaustion hit not to pooh-pooh it as “just fibro.” But this reversal of symptoms is new—getting tired first when an infection is brewing. Usually, the pain and urgency come first. Not anymore, apparently.

Along with the exhaustion came terrible brain fog, and it hasn’t let up yet. I woke up wondering what day it was, and halfway through the day, I was still getting mixed up.

It reminded me of when my mom lived with me and had mild dementia. When she got a UTI, she would wake up and think it was 1945. I’ve got that to look forward to.

Aging sucks.

Well, parts of it do.

I was speaking to one of the younger women at camp, and she said she wasn’t looking forward to getting older. I told her it’s not that bad. It’s just the body. The mind is fine. As a matter of fact, I still feel like I’m 50—the age when I stopped growing older in my mind.

There’s the wisdom and knowledge you collect along the way. There’s the acceptance of yourself, warts and all, and the freedom that comes from no longer caring whether everyone likes you. You stop performing. You’re not as driven.

You know what you really want from life, and you finally feel free to grab hold of it.

You also lose a bit of your filter…that pesky inside voice…

I never had much of a filter once I reached a certain age. I grew up in a family that hid my father’s alcoholism. Not very well, I might add. People know things. They see things. But we didn’t talk about it.

Secrets. I hate them.

I was in my twenties when I started talking about it. I was determined not to let it affect me or my life, not realizing it was already too late. My openness came from a refusal to be secretive.

But not everyone can handle personal sharing. Eventually, you learn who you can share with and who you can’t. Sometimes, though, you do it anyway—just to watch their discomfort and smile to yourself.

I know. That’s terrible, isn’t it?! 🤭

It’s why I can talk about my cancer, my chronic illness, and the ways my body functions and changes. Why I feel unmotivated, depressed, or anxious. How family relationships work—or don’t. It never occurs to me not to tell people or write about it.

Someone, somewhere needs to read it. Someone needs to recognize themselves in it, nod their head, and know they aren’t alone.

Yes, that is what I’m going through. Yes. Me too.

In spite of my advanced age…😂 there is good news: this is my first infection since March. After a string of infections throughout most of 2025 and into March of this year, it was a relief to go a few months without something new showing up.

But then the culture came back negative.

The urinalysis still showed red and white blood cells, clumps of white blood cells, slightly elevated protein, very high hemoglobin, and leukocytes at 500.

My immune system had sent in an army to fight whatever was going on.

And now my back felt tender all over. My hip was sore, and I limped through my morning walk with the dog. On top of that, my ear ached and my throat was sore on the same side.

What was going on?

No. Don’t put it into ChatGPT. You know it’s going to list all the possibilities, and you’re just going to worry.

You know I did it anyway, right? Yep. Done.

Infection—the most common cause. Inflammation. Kidney stones. Kidney disease. Bladder inflammation. An atypical infection that doesn’t grow in a routine culture. Less commonly, autoimmune or inflammatory conditions affecting the urinary tract.

There was also the possibility of damage from the immunotherapy drug I took for a year: pembrolizumab. It can cause inflammation and other problems in various organs, sometimes well after treatment ends.

Why? Why do I look? 🤦🏼‍♀️

A call from the doctor would determine the next steps.

Later, he called and said it was still likely an infection. A negative culture didn’t necessarily mean there was nothing there.

Really? Okay.

“Wait a week after you finish the antibiotics, and we’ll do another urinalysis,” he said.

Today, my ear doesn’t ache, and my throat is a little better. Now I’m just dealing with a couple of days of side effects from the GLP-1 drug.

Because apparently my body wasn’t quite finished making its case.

I do know that cancer recovery takes a longer time for people “my age.” So my body is likely going to be making its case for a while yet.

I still don’t know exactly what caused all of this. Maybe the next test will give me an answer. Maybe it won’t.

But perhaps that isn’t the lesson.

The lesson is that I don’t have to understand what my body is saying before I listen to it. I don’t have to explain every symptom away, put it into context, or build a case for why I should keep going.

Sometimes exhaustion isn’t laziness. Sometimes resting isn’t giving in. Sometimes the body knows something before the mind catches up.

Maybe that is another part of aging: learning to trust the body you’ve spent years arguing with. Mine had been presenting evidence all weekend.

It was time for the defence attorney to sit down.

God, help me pay attention.
When my body says stop, help me stop. When something feels wrong, give me the sense to take it seriously instead of explaining it away.
Give me patience when there are no clear answers, courage to ask for help, and wisdom to know what I need.
And when I start arguing with myself about whether I’ve earned the right to rest, remind me that rest doesn’t have to be earned, even if you have to knock me upside the head!
Help me care for this body as it is, warts and all—not as I wish it were.
Amen.

Dear Reader:

Thank you for sticking with me through the symptoms, the speculation, the test results, and my entirely predictable decision to ask ChatGPT what might be wrong with me and my (sometimes) ridiculous conclusions. I am grateful for each and every one of you.

Thank you, too, for making room for the personal things I share here. I write about them because I know how much it matters to recognize yourself in someone else’s story and realize you aren’t the only one.

Question:

• Has your body ever tried to get your attention in a way you didn’t recognize at first?

• Do you listen when it tells you to slow down, or does your own defence attorney immediately start explaining everything away?

• What would happen if you stopped arguing with your body and simply believed it?

• And what has it been trying to tell you lately?

Leave a comment and let me know what you’re going through or been through.

How did you handle it?

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