Paying the piper.

 

Not that quarantine was kind to any of us, but it sort of did a double whammy on me. Living in 600 square feet and rarely going out, my walking was from desk to bathroom to bedroom and back to desk, with maybe a stopover in the kitchen where, inevitably, I used the seat on my walker to get around while I cooked. Many of my friends got their usual exercise by walking blocks, but that wasn’t an option for me. And then I topped it off with six days in a hospital bed. To say I lost strength and stamina is an understatement.

My cardiologist casually suggested physical therapy—not an order, just a suggestion. But when I brought the subject up, my family doctor agreed and made the arrangements for some in-home therapy. I mentioned this to my Canadian daughter the other day, she who is a work-out fanatic.

“They’ll make you do exercises,” she warned.

“I know that.”

“You’ll hate it,” she continued.

“I know that too.” But I wanted some credit for pursuing what I know needed to be done. It would have been easy to go on my merry way and ignore the advice, but I am keenly aware that on the least venture out—to a restaurant for supper, to a doctor’s office, wherever—I have to stop and rest several times. Before I was in the hospital, I could swing myself up into Jordan’s SUV—now I use a wimpy stepstool.

So now I’ve had the initial consultation, and someone will be calling to set up my first PT appt. Apparently, it’s a four-week prescription, but I’m told if I need more they will simply ask the doctor to write a new prescription. I think what I need is discipline—and an idea of the exercises to do. After the period of PT, I bet Jordan will provide the discipline. She can be a taskmaster!

Some days I have little work on my desk. Today is not one of those days. My accountant called and will take my tax info any time, so I need to finish getting it together. I’m waiting for the second proofs on my neighborhood newsletter and apparently tomorrow I will get proofs on my September book on the Waggoners of Texas. And today I committed to write another entry for the Handbook of Texas online, this for a husband-and-wife team of local historians.

And tonight is the memoir Zoom class that I signed up for. I’m still puzzling over memoir. What I gained from last week was that memoir is about a goal and the obstacles you overcome to get there—but I’m not sure what my goal was, let alone what obstacles I overcame. Really? Was my eye always on an ivy-covered cottage with a rose bush on the picket fence and children playing in the yard? IF so, that’s sure not how life worked out.

Life is rarely dull around here!