So just about 24 hours ago I went to the gym and tried to get a feel for where I am now, fitness wise. Oh how the mighty have fallen.
The plus side is that I know for a fact that I can recover from this dreadful decline in my fitness level. Although I was in better shape to begin with the last time I was able to take advantage of a gym (not to mention younger) the fundamental mechanics of the process are identical. I'm going to need to do a regular 2-hour routine every day to begin with. Eventually, I'll be able to trim that back to the 1-hour routine I had back when. Actually, if I'm going to be honest, I'll probably keep a two hour routine...I'll most likely just add more exercises to it.
What I used to do was a combination of aerobic exercises and weight work. Twenty minutes each on a treadmill, stair climber and cross trainer with sets of weight work interspersed. Follow the whole thing with a long, leisurely stretch session and the walk back to the barracks. Allowing for my new medical condition, I expect to be at least 3 months getting back to a serious performance level. I can only hope that I don't degenerate.
I've been laid up the last 24 hours. Hell of a way to spend a birthday; lying flat on your back, trying to sleep so you don't have to watch the ceiling spin. Still, at least there wasn't any nausea this time. On the plus side, I managed to get and remain vertical long enough to open the gift mum got me. Something special, considering my eclectic collections of skills and talents.
I might have mentioned before that, thanks to the way my mother and step-father raised me, I have the necessary collection of skills and knowledge to re-start western civilization from scratch. Excepting, until today, that which is necessary to locate and extract metal, particularly iron, from the ground. No more, as today I was bestowed with a copy of De Re Metallica. Here's an interesting bit of trivia; did you know that the current English translation most widely used and held as the best was done by Herbert Hoover? Lousy political leader but one helluva good engineer. While not one the texts I need for my field of study, it is a lovely addition to my personal library and, who knows, maybe some day I'll need to restart western civilization?
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
Bromancer
This littlepost is for no better reason than because I want it on record, somewhere, that my little brother is a stand up guy.
After I recently had to walk away from my job as a truck driver due to medical issues and then lost my job as a job coach for the developmentally disabled, I was unable to achieve the last big chuck of "get my life in order" I had planned. Getting a new gym memebrship and getting fit again.
Donovan, you really came through. You didn't have to and I know it cost you. Thank you.
After I recently had to walk away from my job as a truck driver due to medical issues and then lost my job as a job coach for the developmentally disabled, I was unable to achieve the last big chuck of "get my life in order" I had planned. Getting a new gym memebrship and getting fit again.
Donovan, you really came through. You didn't have to and I know it cost you. Thank you.
Living and Dying in 4/3 Time
Right now there are easily about a million things I could start talking about. Current events, my extended silence, the gulf oil spill...but just for the moment I want to talk about me and my big fucking problem right at the moment. I know don't usually...in fact I don't off-hand recall ever using this forum to discuss myself, but I feel that maybe putting this in words will help me cope with what is, to me, a total fucking catastrophe.
And for the record, yes I know I'm swearing and yes, I know that's not normal for me. I don't feel anything like normal right now...and I don't know if I ever will again.
To summarize, back at the end of Sept I developed symptoms. At the time it didn't seem too much more than a moderate annoyance. Simply put I began having some pretty impressive episodes of vertigo and all that goes with it. World spinning, zero equilibrium and vomiting the contents of my stomach to the point of dry heaving because there wasn't even any bile in my belly. I began seeing my physician and was eventually referred to an ENT (that's Ear, Nose and Throat for the uninitiated) Doc. After some testing and unsuccessfully treating for Meniere's Disease (the symptomology of which matches what I presented) the Doc ordered an MRI to rule out a possible growth or tumor.
Well the good news is that no, I don't have a tumor but unfortunately what I do have is possibly worse, from a treatment perspective. The MRI revealed what can be safely called an Atypical Anatomy in my inner ear. In my case, this means that I have artery that has grown in such a way as to contact and place pressure on some of the nerves in my audial canal. Now the net result of this is identical to a growth or tumor, but whereas those might be easily treated with a noninvasive procedure using a lovely new gadget called a Gamma Knife, my condition cannot. I will actually require real, old-fashioned brain surgery in order allow the physical repositioning of the artery away from the nerves of my inner ear.
Now aside from the fact that we are talking about major, invasive not-without-serious-risks surgery here, there is one other little snag: although my symptoms will basically make it impossible for me to work in my usual trade (professional driving) I am not considered a severe enough case to warrant such a risky procedure. In other words, the risk-benefit analysis does not favor surgery.
So I get to through the rest of my life randomly falling down and throwing up. I cannot describe this adequately. Let me try anyway.
Suppose that you are going abut your business, possibly just sitting here reading this post when, suddenly, you get a sharp ringing in your ears. This ringing goes beyond normal tinnitus and actually seems to mute all other sounds in that ear. Within a minute or so, you suddenly start to feel a dull pressure in that side of your head and then the sensation of weight, or a tugging force. After a few more minutes you can no longer focus on the screen in front of you as everything starts to appear as though it were in violent, circular motion. You then break out in a flop sweat and lose the ability to stay upright without leaning heavily on something. Finally, when your body can no longer handle the sensation of movement, your stomach rebels and you begin heaving everything you have out and then up comes the bile as well, the bitter, yellow semi-liquid dripping out of your mouth as you sit on the ground on all fours just begging the world to stop spinning. Then you keep retching for a while and the stabbing, clutching spasms threaten to sprain your abdominal muscles. Then, finally, if you're lucky, you'll simply pass out from exhaustion. If you're not you'll get to lay there whimpering as the entire room spins, maybe for a couple of hours, maybe overnight.
Sounds like a great fucking time, doesn't it?
Right about now, one of you at least is saying, "But KP, you've always been a great advocate of socialized medicine and social programs! Sure you know you can get help, right?"
Well thats true, as far as it goes. The thing is, being a supporter of the social good is one thing when you don't need support. For me it was an ethical position. Nonetheless, my earliest programming is that of self-reliance. Deeply buried in my subconcious mind are the voices of Rush Limbaugh and my father calling me an entitlement parasite. And my own voice, if I'm honest. Honesty further requires me to say that I have low self-esteem as it is...being in this situation fills me with a level of self-loathing and guilt I have a hard time expressing. My S.O. asked me earlier today when I finally had my nervous breakdown over the whole damned thing, if I had suicidal thougths. I have to admit, it did cross my mind for a minute or two. The honorable escape from being a burden, from being unable to be a contributing member of society...of my own family.
On the other hand, opposing that host of accusations is a single fact which my loving S.O. reminded me of. I was not one of those who advocated for social good because I wanted something for myself. I stood with the left on the issue as a matter of principle. I can honestly say I had the courage of my conviction and cleaved to my ethics for their own sake. So, as she said, while my circumstances may have changed my position has not, whereas my ideological opponents might not be able to say the same thing.
So where does that leave me? As of this writing I haven't the faintest damned clue. I have had the proverbial bottom ripped out from under me. We'll be "going to the office" as it were tomorrow in order to start the various wheels turning; vocational rehab, disability, that sort of thing. I haven't any idea where this will all wind up at though. Further, despite the very good point mentioned above as well the simplefact that this was not something that happened as a result of some wrong action on my part...I still feel enourmous shame along with fear.
For now, I'll do the thign I do best. FIDO.
Fuck it. Drive on.
And for the record, yes I know I'm swearing and yes, I know that's not normal for me. I don't feel anything like normal right now...and I don't know if I ever will again.
To summarize, back at the end of Sept I developed symptoms. At the time it didn't seem too much more than a moderate annoyance. Simply put I began having some pretty impressive episodes of vertigo and all that goes with it. World spinning, zero equilibrium and vomiting the contents of my stomach to the point of dry heaving because there wasn't even any bile in my belly. I began seeing my physician and was eventually referred to an ENT (that's Ear, Nose and Throat for the uninitiated) Doc. After some testing and unsuccessfully treating for Meniere's Disease (the symptomology of which matches what I presented) the Doc ordered an MRI to rule out a possible growth or tumor.
Well the good news is that no, I don't have a tumor but unfortunately what I do have is possibly worse, from a treatment perspective. The MRI revealed what can be safely called an Atypical Anatomy in my inner ear. In my case, this means that I have artery that has grown in such a way as to contact and place pressure on some of the nerves in my audial canal. Now the net result of this is identical to a growth or tumor, but whereas those might be easily treated with a noninvasive procedure using a lovely new gadget called a Gamma Knife, my condition cannot. I will actually require real, old-fashioned brain surgery in order allow the physical repositioning of the artery away from the nerves of my inner ear.
Now aside from the fact that we are talking about major, invasive not-without-serious-risks surgery here, there is one other little snag: although my symptoms will basically make it impossible for me to work in my usual trade (professional driving) I am not considered a severe enough case to warrant such a risky procedure. In other words, the risk-benefit analysis does not favor surgery.
So I get to through the rest of my life randomly falling down and throwing up. I cannot describe this adequately. Let me try anyway.
Suppose that you are going abut your business, possibly just sitting here reading this post when, suddenly, you get a sharp ringing in your ears. This ringing goes beyond normal tinnitus and actually seems to mute all other sounds in that ear. Within a minute or so, you suddenly start to feel a dull pressure in that side of your head and then the sensation of weight, or a tugging force. After a few more minutes you can no longer focus on the screen in front of you as everything starts to appear as though it were in violent, circular motion. You then break out in a flop sweat and lose the ability to stay upright without leaning heavily on something. Finally, when your body can no longer handle the sensation of movement, your stomach rebels and you begin heaving everything you have out and then up comes the bile as well, the bitter, yellow semi-liquid dripping out of your mouth as you sit on the ground on all fours just begging the world to stop spinning. Then you keep retching for a while and the stabbing, clutching spasms threaten to sprain your abdominal muscles. Then, finally, if you're lucky, you'll simply pass out from exhaustion. If you're not you'll get to lay there whimpering as the entire room spins, maybe for a couple of hours, maybe overnight.
Sounds like a great fucking time, doesn't it?
Right about now, one of you at least is saying, "But KP, you've always been a great advocate of socialized medicine and social programs! Sure you know you can get help, right?"
Well thats true, as far as it goes. The thing is, being a supporter of the social good is one thing when you don't need support. For me it was an ethical position. Nonetheless, my earliest programming is that of self-reliance. Deeply buried in my subconcious mind are the voices of Rush Limbaugh and my father calling me an entitlement parasite. And my own voice, if I'm honest. Honesty further requires me to say that I have low self-esteem as it is...being in this situation fills me with a level of self-loathing and guilt I have a hard time expressing. My S.O. asked me earlier today when I finally had my nervous breakdown over the whole damned thing, if I had suicidal thougths. I have to admit, it did cross my mind for a minute or two. The honorable escape from being a burden, from being unable to be a contributing member of society...of my own family.
On the other hand, opposing that host of accusations is a single fact which my loving S.O. reminded me of. I was not one of those who advocated for social good because I wanted something for myself. I stood with the left on the issue as a matter of principle. I can honestly say I had the courage of my conviction and cleaved to my ethics for their own sake. So, as she said, while my circumstances may have changed my position has not, whereas my ideological opponents might not be able to say the same thing.
So where does that leave me? As of this writing I haven't the faintest damned clue. I have had the proverbial bottom ripped out from under me. We'll be "going to the office" as it were tomorrow in order to start the various wheels turning; vocational rehab, disability, that sort of thing. I haven't any idea where this will all wind up at though. Further, despite the very good point mentioned above as well the simplefact that this was not something that happened as a result of some wrong action on my part...I still feel enourmous shame along with fear.
For now, I'll do the thign I do best. FIDO.
Fuck it. Drive on.
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