Cardiac rehab is interesting. Always jumping, always a line. Pop. is generally white male 48-80ish, tho' there is a guy looks about 38, and about 4 or 5 females of "a certain age". Working class to executives judging from clothes. NASCAR t-shirts, shirts with bible quotes, and garage/wrecker shirts on the former; street clothes, surprisingly, on a couple; and athletic suits (?) for the exec.types. There are farmers too, judging by hands and clothing. One gent wears a belt AND suspenders; the hairs on the back o' me neck rise, cannot 'splain why.....
Speaking of sure things: conversations run from football and deer hunting to pissing and moaning about President Obama. Unless there are black people in attendance; then there is no whining about the President. There is a radio, not always on, thankfully. Sessions last 45 minutes without a class, and an hour with a class. I enjoy the rowing machine, makes me feel all a-viking, and detest the Satan bicycle. Going for the gestalt here folks; we also get training on diet, stress relief (HA!), etc. I learned there is one thing no cardiac patient should do: shovel snow. It was news to me . Theories are the arteries constrict in colder weather, exacerbating even minor build-ups of plaque, causing blockages.
Being up to greet the sun, even to shovel snow, is good medicine. My first job in 1968, ink still wet on my Social Security card (thank you, Franklin! ), required me to be there at 0430. Newspapers to sort, count, and bundle for the delivery boys and stores. A great time o' the day. I felt, even those days I froze walking to Columbian Square, that I was getting one up on the day (o foolish youth!). Dad, a reticent Yankee, gave me one piece of advice: "mouth shut and ears open.". It worked at McGaw News Agency, APA Transport, Time-DC Trucking, The Tufts Library, Plaza Men's Shop, and Kellaway Transportation. It worked in the US Army, 3 colleges and two, no three, model clubs. It is working for me now in rehab. Nope,I don't mind being the FNG atall atall.
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"all human life is here" sloganises one of our most scurrilous Sunday newspapers. But they've missed out low between human and life. Having clung to my bed of a morning for the previous 18 years I suddenly changed my habits and started rising at 6.30 am. Twas in the service of my monarch. But you've got to be careful not to be insufferable when you do that and I didn't. Got into fights. Learned a technique which worked: took blows going in but the aim was to bring about the commando head-lock. Later I became a literature-loving aesthete, but then you know all that. Your group is of course held together by the greatest commonality: owning a heart. Briefly I became a member of another medical group which had, as it were, shared the same scalpel. Half a dozen vas deferens were snipped that evening and the line of Bonden was doomed to die out. Interesting, colourful side effects. Rowing's OK so long as you're not part of an eight, forced to look at the acne-pocked neck of the guy in front (or is behind?) you. On the other hand you get to toss the cox into the river if you win. Not as diverse as your gym though.
I am fortunate that, for now, my situation does not require rehab. I have been warned to lose several pounds (at least 10% of weight), cut down on salt, and get off my duff and walk, every day. I'm working on it.
Oh, yeah...gotta work on decreasing my stress levels, too. Like you said, “HA!”
That bicycle does, indeed, look Satanic. Wasn't the original design a revamp of one of the torture machines from the Spanish Inquisition?
My grandson has volunteered (for pay, naturally) to shovel off my walks this winter. I'm taking him up on his offer. Last winter there were some worrisome pains in the chest every time I shoveled, which I ignored, foolishly. Thanks for the education on that activity.
Best wishes with your rehab, Scott, and I hope Mrs. RR is doing well, too.
:)
Yes, BB: I had a scrap in schoool one day at lunch with someone I knew very well. I attributed it to grumpiness resulting from early rising. Plus, as I remember, I took umbrage at being hit with his thrown food.
Crow, I used to love to shovel snow; even the wee amounts we get in VA. I took my time, rested plenty, but judging from the way I felt after today's raking session, I will gladly give up the fun of shovelling. And doing wthout salt, though tough, does help.
Thank you for the good wishes, my best to my blogging colleagues.
In case you don't get around to posting again before the approaching holidays, Scott, hope you and Mrs. RR are doing well and have a wonderful time.
Martha
Let me add my best wishes to Crow's. You're not the most fecund of posters, RR, but for me yours is always a must-read. I gotta tempt you in again with something about tanks. Stay away from that snow and comfort yourself with the thought that eventually the stuff just melts.
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