Booty Camp Pause

I've spent the last few weeks regrouping, organizing and making the templates (by hand, electronics hate me). I finally hit the jackpot with success. One success after oodles of failures feels so sweet, like getting free anything from the nice singing candy man in Willy Wonka.
Well, I've been working away about a half pound a day by simply eating correctly and moving at a light intensity for an extra 30 minutes each day. Yesterday, I moved furniture from upstairs to the atrium downstairs, and washed a weekends' worth of dishes by hand. It worked away about 250 calories based on my age, height and weight. I love CaloriesPerHour.com!
Then, I wake up today with a scratchy, sore and tight throat, followed a couple of hours later by burning and watery eyes. Several hours later, lethargic and achy, my nose is stuffy. As if that weren't enough to stymie my plans, nausea crept in and has me afraid to eat again.
Argh! I really am jinxed, not that I've ever had evidence to the contrary.
Hot and loose. Chai tea that is, with 5 drops of lemon and a teaspoon of honey. Add in my fine china to cheer me up, and voila, a little less dismal.
Now, I'm quarantined. For the average girl this wouldn't be so extreme, but: I'm mentally and emotionally disabled, I don't drive, I don't control my own money. Okay, I live with my Mom (my caregiver until that gorgeous day when I'm in full remission and can go back to my studio apartment) who has mild lupus, ergo a limited immune system; so she can't have contact with me, even secondary, until I'm well. Eh-heh, this leaves my big brother/self-proclaimed keeper-of-me. Only trouble is, my hero (cheesy but true. I'm fortunate in the best ways), he's sick too, and a few days ahead and worse off as well.
Agh! So, I'm rationing my store of loose teas from Mama Jean's, and Propel Zero Berry until I have the energy to mix up some chicken broth and whatever else I have. Maybe make egg drop soup with bean sprouts and shiratake noodles. - Woohoo, I just got a tiny rumble in my tummy at the thought. Progress.
So, I can stretch and that's pretty much it, but that's something, and I'm hoping it'll ease the muscle aches.
Well, a severely depressed and anxious person forced to lie still and exert minimal energy for an unknown period of time? Recipe for a relapse or flair. So. So, I am keeping Ella Fitzgerald as my Pandora channel, and my go-to perk-me-up movies: Mamma Mia, My Life In Ruins, Because I Said So, and Burlesque. Here's hoping that stuff works.
Well, I might lose weight over the next week, but I worry that once healthy, going back to solids will put pounds on overnight. Ugh.
Here, I was beginning to fix my metabolism, eating at the proper intervals and the proper quantities - every 4 hours and about the size of my fist, per my MD because my meds slow my metabolism down significantly. And, now, I'm on a primarily liquid diet for an unknown duration.
My Booty Camp has become My Booty is Camped.