What does it mean when you stop trying to figure out what or where things went wrong? Is it acceptance? Does it mean you don't care anymore?
I've always asked why -- why things happen the way they do, why they work out the way they do, why some plan or idea went wrong, why one path works while another doesn't.
And I've had some big whys to puzzle over. But lately it seems like "why" never even enters my head anymore, while "oh" is always there.
Maybe I'm just tired of asking the same question over and over and rarely getting answers.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
F.U., back
I did 15 minutes on the treadmill without letting my back rest this morning! With only Motrin! It started hurting at 6 minutes and got worse until 8 minutes, but then it hit a pain plateau I could live with.
So basically, my bad back can suck it.
It's not stopping me.
And when I get a new doctor who's willing to help me instead of telling me he's an "instrument of God" -- a phrase I only ever want to hear in my favorite book, "Owen Meany," NOT from my doctor, who is supposed to believe in actual medical science -- I'm going to be a walking machine.
Well, not a literal machine. That would be weird. But I'll be someone who walks. And enjoys it.
So basically, my bad back can suck it.
It's not stopping me.
And when I get a new doctor who's willing to help me instead of telling me he's an "instrument of God" -- a phrase I only ever want to hear in my favorite book, "Owen Meany," NOT from my doctor, who is supposed to believe in actual medical science -- I'm going to be a walking machine.
Well, not a literal machine. That would be weird. But I'll be someone who walks. And enjoys it.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Tired
So tired.
My medicine keeps my blood pressure and heart rate low, which makes me so tired.
But rest is good, right? It helps the body heal. That's what I tell myself as I'm taking my old-lady naps.
My medicine keeps my blood pressure and heart rate low, which makes me so tired.
But rest is good, right? It helps the body heal. That's what I tell myself as I'm taking my old-lady naps.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Crossing a bridge?
Normally I hate the treadmill. I hate walking because it causes me pain. Pain sucks.
But part of my cardiac rehab is walking on the treadmill. Every day I dread it. I'm supposed to be doing 15 minutes now, but I have to break it up into halves because I usually can't make it past seven or eight minutes before my lower back locks up and my hipbones feel like hey are made of glass shards. I have to stop and let my back relax, and then I can go on.
But this morning, something changed. I got up to seven minutes, where I usually stop, and the pain was there but not the worst it has been. So I thought I'd just go to eight minutes. At eight minutes, the pain hadn't really changed, so I figured I could make nine. At nine, the pain was getting somewhat worse, but not unbearable, so I went to 10.
That seems like nothing to most people, but for me, it's a very big deal because for years now, I have not been able to walk more than a block without pain -- sometimes even half a block.
I can't wait to try again tomorrow.
But part of my cardiac rehab is walking on the treadmill. Every day I dread it. I'm supposed to be doing 15 minutes now, but I have to break it up into halves because I usually can't make it past seven or eight minutes before my lower back locks up and my hipbones feel like hey are made of glass shards. I have to stop and let my back relax, and then I can go on.
But this morning, something changed. I got up to seven minutes, where I usually stop, and the pain was there but not the worst it has been. So I thought I'd just go to eight minutes. At eight minutes, the pain hadn't really changed, so I figured I could make nine. At nine, the pain was getting somewhat worse, but not unbearable, so I went to 10.
That seems like nothing to most people, but for me, it's a very big deal because for years now, I have not been able to walk more than a block without pain -- sometimes even half a block.
I can't wait to try again tomorrow.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Back to work today
It's been two weeks since I got out of the hospital, and it's time to go back to work. Part of me would like to stay home longer, but not because I feel poorly, just because it's kind of nice having a life of leisure. Nice, but also a little boring.
The only thing is, I'm going to miss Vivian when I'm gone all day!
She's definitely getting bigger, and it seems like her hair is getting longer, too.
She's quite a little huntress -- of feet. Ouch.
The only thing is, I'm going to miss Vivian when I'm gone all day!
She's definitely getting bigger, and it seems like her hair is getting longer, too.
She's quite a little huntress -- of feet. Ouch.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Cardiac rehab
So I learned a couple things this morning, my third visit to cardiac rehab.
First, I am a solo work-out person. I don't want to be watched, and I certainly don't want people monitoring me, at least people who are not health professionals.
Cardiac rehab is full of, of course, older people. I know they mean well, but this man on the treadmill next to me and a woman on a recumbent bike behind me almost worked themselves into second heart attacks and equipment accidents this morning because they were so busy paying attention to me.
My back is still bad, and walking is painful. So the treadmill is a special kind of torture that, I've decided, will not break me. If I am going to enjoy Italy next year, I have to be able to walk with less pain. But for now, I have to stop every few minutes and let my back relax.
So I'm on the treadmill, and I stop and lean over to stretch my back, and the woman behind me starts screaming "Turn off the machine! Turn off the belt!" And the man next to me hops off his treadmill. I look over and they are looking at me and the nurse comes running over to see if everyone's OK.
Yes, I say, I am fine. Just letting my back relax so I can keep going. The man is worried because he saw me bending over and thought I was too out of breath. The woman was upset because she saw the man losing his footing.
Later, she tells me "you really got my adrenaline going. Don't do that."
OK, I said, but I was thinking much meaner thoughts.
The second thing I learned is that I can like this exercise thing. It actually feels good, other than the back pain. Maybe I can do it not because I have to, but because I want to.
Hmmm.
As long as I can do it alone.
First, I am a solo work-out person. I don't want to be watched, and I certainly don't want people monitoring me, at least people who are not health professionals.
Cardiac rehab is full of, of course, older people. I know they mean well, but this man on the treadmill next to me and a woman on a recumbent bike behind me almost worked themselves into second heart attacks and equipment accidents this morning because they were so busy paying attention to me.
My back is still bad, and walking is painful. So the treadmill is a special kind of torture that, I've decided, will not break me. If I am going to enjoy Italy next year, I have to be able to walk with less pain. But for now, I have to stop every few minutes and let my back relax.
So I'm on the treadmill, and I stop and lean over to stretch my back, and the woman behind me starts screaming "Turn off the machine! Turn off the belt!" And the man next to me hops off his treadmill. I look over and they are looking at me and the nurse comes running over to see if everyone's OK.
Yes, I say, I am fine. Just letting my back relax so I can keep going. The man is worried because he saw me bending over and thought I was too out of breath. The woman was upset because she saw the man losing his footing.
Later, she tells me "you really got my adrenaline going. Don't do that."
OK, I said, but I was thinking much meaner thoughts.
The second thing I learned is that I can like this exercise thing. It actually feels good, other than the back pain. Maybe I can do it not because I have to, but because I want to.
Hmmm.
As long as I can do it alone.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)