Posts Tagged ‘status report’
Priceless Friendships!
The fantastic brilliance of life springs forth in everything! It is in the good and the bad, the easy and the difficult. Our greatest lessons do not come from times of calm and collected, easy living. It is the challenges, the trials and tribulations, which produce the gems of outcome that glimmer with the brilliant beauty of our eventual successes in life.
It has been brought to my attention, by friends who care about me, that some of what I write lately is spawning worry about my state of being. I will admit to taking advantage of some of the angst, (created in me by the departure of my lovely wife to the job in Boston), composing some prose that explores the feelings thus produced. To an artist, such fodder is a rich vein to be mined.
I am grateful for the feedback, though, because I was not aware of the level of impression my words were creating. I am richly blessed by friends. In particular, Ian Rowcliffe, who provides me with insights and inspirations through his comments, and his unfailingly positive focus. Also, my good friend, Gary Larson, a champion in helping me take care of myself. Mike Wilkus has been a (mostly) weekly date for dinners out on the town, or movies, or sometimes both. Many special friends from my circle of bicycling buddies, who came over last Saturday, bringing food and good cheer, to watch a movie I’ve been itchin’ to share for weeks. And my morning soccer comrades, who just yesterday were helping me release endorphins with plenty of laughter and cheerful competition.
I am eating very well, despite my disinterest in cooking, getting in my maintenance exercises for my back, and actually enjoying the opportunity to get a taste of living on my own. Being separated from Cyndie isn’t easy, but it isn’t all that hard, either. It is “both / and.”
Part of me just might have been hesitant to portray my situation in too rosy a light, lest I come across as a heartless cad. I fear there could be some ‘splainin’ to do if my wife thought I was having too much fun here without her.
I was telling Gary last night that I am enjoying having some of the rooms in our house become more a reflection of me, as I remove some things that had been put in place for when two people occupied the space. As referenced in yesterday’s poem, the rooms are losing some of Cyndie’s soul, but I see that as a logical step toward our putting this house on the market. When she moves home again, we are envisioning that we will be in a new place, on property with space for horses. I expect the current situation will end up making it easier for us to part with the house we’ve lived in for over 25 years.
Thank you to all friends, new and old, who read me here! I’m hoping you find my travails relative something… preferably something positive!
A Week
It has now been a week since Cyndie returned to Boston, leaving me on my own again in our house. It doesn’t feel quite so extreme to me any more. I’m already adjusted to living here alone. That became glaringly obvious to me from the shock I experienced trying to negotiate having her stuff in my space for 10-days over Christmas and New Year’s.
It is a little frustrating, coming off the recent excitement of seeing Cyndie work with horses, then so soon after, having her back working for the school district in Boston. The two scenarios are so unrelated. But there are opportunities for me to get excited by the stories Cyndie shares of her school work. We caught up with each other last Thursday and I learned she had been through two days with almost no sleep, but her diligent efforts lead to some dramatic progress toward what she is there to accomplish. She educates people in a way that changes lives.
Meanwhile, I am taking advantage of the fact that she didn’t take a car with her. I have learned that the nasty burning-smell-symptom of my car is due to a leaking head gasket which will cost more to remedy than I want to spend on the trusty old beast. My first thought was that it is time to buy a new vehicle, but I have no idea what to choose. Is it time for a truck, if we want to move to a horse farm? Should I get a high-mileage car for commuting to the day-job? Cyndie suggested a simple solution to buy time: just drive her car for the time being.
Isn’t she brilliant?
Minor Concerns
This is what I learned yesterday after my visit to an allergist: I respond to dust mites, an outdoor mold, and cats. It may, or may not, be triggering an asthma response. My asthma is relatively mild.
There is no longer a cat living in my house. The coming freeze of winter will end exposure to outdoor molds. There are steps I can take to control my exposure to dust mites. I can take a higher dose of control medication, half as often, to control my asthma symptoms. All things considered, my health problems are hardly serious concerns.
The controlled exposure to allergens was not difficult for me at all. I was given the back scratches and didn’t experience any severe reaction. The particular areas of irritation are visible as a reddening, which they measure to record a reading. I hardly noticed any ill effects until I was driving home. Then I started to feel a headache and for the rest of the day felt out of sorts, with some general body aches felt like the onset of illness. It didn’t help my general mood, either. I started to get kind of grouchy, but that might be more a result of the constant clamor overhead at the day-job from workers redoing the flat roof. Everyone was growing weary of the constant drone of the roofer’s radio, tuned to a station that sounded like non-stop mariachi music. But, it is probably the sudden unidentifiable booms and bangs that take the greater toll. What the heck are they dropping up there?
Most importantly, from the appointment with the allergy doctor, there is no indication of my being allergic to horses or to hay. I better get to work on the finishing touches of preparing our home for sale in the spring. Full dream ahead!
Playing Doctor
Ever since I was positively diagnosed as having asthma by a pulmonary specialist in 2008, I have been at a loss to understand it. I had no clue that the physical reality I had been experiencing was not normal health. The test data showed that my below normal lung performance improved with a dose of medication. The doctor prescribed a daily control medicine.
I started taking it as prescribed, even though I wasn’t able to clearly detect a beneficial result. I was such an unconvinced patient that my clinic prescribed a device to measure my lung volume to help me gauge my status. I used my medication through the period I was trekking in the Himalayan mountains, yet still had breathing difficulties that forced me to depart from the main group I was traveling with and descend early. After I got home, I grew weary of maintaining the routine of twice-a-day inhaler doses. I went rogue and stopped using the control medication.
After a 4 or 5 months, I got a cold that settled in my chest and never seemed to release its grip. I checked in with my clinic and they renewed my prescription for the control medication.
In my mind, I only knew of asthma as an affliction that influences its victims by way of attacks; flare ups that caused a person to struggle for breath. That is not how it affects me. A flare up for me appears slowly over many days. My lungs become inflamed, giving me a wheeze and a cough. It is not something that requires a rescue inhaler.
I stayed on that dosage routine for a few months until I again grew weary of the routine. I made the (basically uninformed) decision to quit trying to remember to use the inhaler twice a day, and cut my dosage in half by only using it once a day. Eventually, my curiosity led me to stop altogether, despite warnings on the package against doing so without consulting my doctor.
My reason for stopping the medication is that I want to find out what condition my lungs are in without any treatment. Is it the same as when I was first diagnosed, back when I had no clue my lung function was not normal? Or is it worse, to the point that I need to maintain the daily medication to be free of a chronic wheeze and cough?
So far, I am experiencing an increasing level of obvious unhealthy lung symptoms. My self-diagnosis experiment does not offer much in the way of knowing if it will stop getting worse and reach a stasis. It has been three weeks now since I stopped, and I am beginning to wonder if I will be able to tell when I am at the new un-medicated normal. Is there a bottom point to be reached? Time will tell.
‘Nother Status
Number of hours worked yesterday: over 11
Leftovers heated for a late dinner: Gina Maria’s pizza
Number of hours sleep accomplished last night: 7 1/2
Enough hours for ultimate liver health: not quite
High temperature reached yesterday: 65° F
Number of seconds I was able to be out to enjoy it: 0
High temperature predicted for today: 46° F
NHL playoff hockey watched last night: parts of 2 games
Plan for tonight: Vancouver/Chicago playoff hockey game 7
People over for Easter dinner Sunday: 15
People joining me for late dinner last night: 0
Days till Cyndie gets home: 3
Amount of snow predicted overnight tonight: 1 inch
Number of miles ridden on my bike so far this spring: 0
My current level of interest in riding in the cold: none
How my ankle performed at soccer yesterday morning: really well
How my ankle felt later in the day: sore
Treatment for ankle while watching hockey: ice and elevation
Days in a row I’ve played guitar: 3
Days until Gary’s music party: 4
How callused my fingers are: not at all
How fingers feel after 3 days: raw
How often this routine of trying to build calluses happens: regularly
Condition of fingernails for finger-picking: Excellent
Memory for lyrics of songs I have always sung: long gone
Results of loss of lyric memory: a lot more instrumentals played
How often that really matters these days: pretty much never
How to know when a status list is complete: they’re never complete, yet, sometimes, they just end
Damage Report
I haven’t talked to our insurance agent yet, so I’ll make this a practice run for that call. With the spring sunshine bringing temps up to 60°F yesterday, I made a brief foray into the yard around the house. I figured I would pick up any obvious trash that had settled out of the season’s worth of snow, and at the same time, capture a few shots of the damage this winter inflicted upon our property. It was a spur of the moment decision to step out, and I did so just after I pulled into the driveway from work, so I was not dressed to get involved in any actual outdoor tasks.
First up is a view of the once-proud juniper evergreen shrub that has been in front of the porch railing for all the 20+ years we have lived in this house. The snow pack has flattened it like never before. It has always come back in the past, but this year I will be surprised if it can return to its former glory.
Still in the front of the house, the gutter has been knocked out of alignment and dented pretty drastically by one of the monster icicles that grew off the ice dam that dominated the edge of the upper eave. Instead of melting away slowly, it let loose all at once with a thundering bang! onto the lower eave and gutter, eventually toppling all the way down to add to the growing mass that was flattening the shrubs.
The same thing was happening on the back side of the house, except, instead of just shrubs and gutters being abused, there was also my brand new, never-been-used, air conditioner in the line of fire. The largest icicle fell from the second story and, without a lower eave to bounce off, directed all of its momentum directly onto the fan assembly, pushing it down inside where the delicate fins of the cooling array succumbed to the pressure and developed flat spots where the fins became compressed.
I finished taking pictures and put the camera in my pocket. Then I noticed the wheelbarrow that had been left from last fall when I was working on building up a new base for the air conditioner. Last time I was dealing with that, it was in attempt to pull the shovel out of it to return it to storage in the garage. I was too late. It had frozen solid into the sand and ice that had formed. I left it underneath the deck for the rest of the winter.
Now it was filled to the brim with water. I stepped up with the intent to just drain the water. Yeah.
Pretty soon, I was slipping and sliding on the edge of the berm I had created last fall to support the AC unit, and the water draining from the wheelbarrow, now faster than I intended, was running right at my feet. In one hand I held paper trash I had picked up and the end of a shovel, the other was wrestling with the tilting wheelbarrow. The shovel had rusted to the extreme and I was quickly collecting mud, rust, water, dirt, sweat, and trash all over my hands, shoes, and pants.
Goodbye winter, hello spring. I haven’t quite accomplished the mental transition of coping with the difference in environment yet. It involves a whole different set of challenges. It certainly deserves a change out of the day-job attire. Especially the shoes.
Praising Sobriety
I love everything about abstinence from alcoholic beverages.
I love the freedom to choose be totally wild, crazy, and silly at (mostly) appropriate times with the equal ability to employ my maximum acuity in a moments notice.
I love partying in the company of my sober friends.
I love the absence of alcohol-induced melodrama.
I love that sobriety doesn’t have to be kept away from children.
I love that sobriety isn’t banned from the workplace.
I love that it isn’t against the law to drive sober.
I love that I don’t have the expense of purchasing alcohol.
I love that I never care whether alcohol is served at any event I attend.
I love that the absence of alcohol will never keep me from attending any event.
I love that not allowing myself the health benefits reportedly available from moderate consumption of alcohol has yet to cause me any ill effects.
I love that the practice of abstaining from alcoholic beverages is referred to as teetotalism, a movement that was first started in Preston, England in the early 19th century.
I love learning of notable others who are teetotalers, such as the voice of Homer Simpson, Dan Castellaneta, and the current Vice President of the United States, Joe Biden.
I love not needing to battle the dehydration caused by alcohol, especially since I have enough trouble maintaining optimal hydration sans the ethanol.
I love that my friends and family never need to question whether I am intoxicated, or not.
I love that my friends and family never need to worry about the possibility that I may drive drunk.
I love never needing to think about whether I have enough food in my stomach to slow the absorption of alcohol into my cells.
I love never having the urge to drink more than one glass of anything other than water when in social situations
I love having control over my speech and balance.
I love the absence of recovery facilities aimed at helping people overcome problems with their sobriety.
I love behaving with decency in the presence of law enforcement officials performing their duties to uphold the law.
I love being aware of how I behaved the night before.
I love that the beverages I drink allow me to maintain peaceful behavior, even if I drink too much. Granted, I may appear brusque in my urgency to reach the rest room.
I love everything about abstinence from alcoholic beverages.
More and more, I find I dearly love the company of others who choose abstinence, as well.
Conscientious Ingestion
For almost my entire life I bet I’ve heard the phrase, “You are what you eat.” Whatever. Does anyone really heed these tidbits of wisdom beyond the surface first impression that hearing them elicits?
Then along comes a medical procedure requiring a couple of days avoiding all the foods that are supposed to be good for you… raw fruits and vegetables, whole grain breads, cereals, and nuts, followed by almost 2 days of a purely liquid diet. When you get all done with that and your insides have been entirely cleared out, there is a whole new appreciation for what food will restart the process of fueling your activities and becoming the building blocks for your cells.
I started with Dairy Queen ice cream on the way home, in celebration of my restored freedom to choose from my regular culinary passions. I love cereals more than anything and heavy whole grained breads are a close second. Vegetables are good, but they do lack the sweetness of breads and cereals. For my palate, it’s all about sweet and crunch. Fruit is something I whine about. The sweetness inherent should make it a winning choice, but they often also pack that sour twang that causes the twinge in the back of my jaw. That, and the fact there is such a wide disparity in what you might find under the outer covering. Ripe? I am a terrible judge. And I’m picky. There is about a ten minute period of ripeness that my palate seeks as ideal. Before or after that it’s too green or too mushy. Nuts are a winner all around, any kind and any way they come.
I’m finding it not as easy to just make those choices based on pleasing my mouth now that my ‘system’ has been reset for a fresh start. All this recent focus on the intricate workings of breaking down proteins and moving nutrients through cell walls and passing the mixture along through the system has me unusually sensitive to what I put in there. What better time than now to adjust my behavior and heed the wisdom that I am what I eat?
It’s hard to argue it. I guess for the short-term, I’m soft-serve ice cream.
Failing Rehab
Not only was yesterday the anniversary of my flight to Lukla, it also marked 8 weeks since I injured my hamstring playing soccer. I haven’t played soccer since. It has been a struggle for me. For some pathological reason that I haven’t quite identified, I have undercut my own intense desire to return to playing soccer by entirely failing to maintain a rehabilitation routine. I’ve fallen off the wagon of muscle rehab.
In place of intense mental scrutiny over the reasons for my behavior, I am choosing to disregard my self-defeating behavior and pick battles that, for the time being, I feel up to. After an entire week in Florida, where I rested not just my leg, but my entire being, top to bottom, mind and body, I returned last night to my weekly floorball sport. I spent plenty of time in goal, where I noticed my reaction time is returning to my former productive performance, and I did a few successful shifts of running the floor. The next step in my plan of incremental return to activity is to try showing up for soccer on Friday morning. I will be far from full capacity, but I am interested to see what it will be like to run and try to control a ball with my feet. A pretty major test of leg control that floor hockey doesn’t require.
My inactivity over the last few weeks has produced remarkable results in terms of muscle loss and flab accumulation. It sure doesn’t take long to see the outcome of my slothfulness. This is one of the true injustices of our existence. It takes such a long time, and such extremes of effort, to produce evidence of positive results in muscle tone and reduction of love handles, when just a short period of neglectful power-lounging brings about immediate results. I shoulda been a sumo wrestler.
More By the Numbers
Thin Mints last night: 6
Hours worked yesterday: 12
Times played guitar in last month: 2
Hours since last played: 9
Hours till music party tonight: 11
Hours till must go into work place on this weekend day: 1.5
Odds I enjoy working weekends: long
Wheels removed from cycle: 2
Tires with hole in the sidewall: 1
Denomination of currency bolstering ruptured sidewall: $1
Amount of dishes in sink deserving attention: maximum
Time available to clear that before wife arrives home: none
Cats curled up against me under the bed covers: 1
Inches bedroom window open for fresh air lately: 2
Inches of snow left after week of 40+° days: > half as many
Level of interest in leaving warm bed and purring cat: 0
Distractions I can think of other than going to work today: infinite
Chances I will deviate from what I said I would do: slim
Posts percolating for my Brainstorms Community that I’d love to compose: 1 in particular
Times a day I am supposed to practice rehabilitative stretches for hamstring: 5
Average number of times I have been achieving that in the past week: 1
Expectations I will return to full speed activity sooner than hoped: none
People I can blame for that other than myself: 0
Effort it takes sometimes to keep a positive frame of mind: Herculean
Relative Something 