The blood tests were all normal (or what passes for it in American medicine), which I figured they would be because I started to feel good again the day after I had them. I guess it was just one of those mysterious viral things that come and go. (Plus, the well-known magical healing power of blood tests, akin to taking your car to the mechanic’s to diagnose a persistent funny noise, which of course immediately disappears.)
The doctor told his nurse to tell me to “take Vitamin D.”
“Tell him I already take Vitamin D,” I told her. So much for the personal touch!
Anyway, that’s good. It means I can go back to the gym again without any problems. I’ve been riding my exercise bike and doing squats at home, but there’s nothing like having my Latina trainer yell at me: “Come on, chica, one more set!” (Bitch. No, really, I like her. She hates yuppies.)