No Pain, No Gain

Now that my plague symptoms have mostly relented (I have more energy, am coughing less and nowhere near as explosively), I'm back to the daily rehab exercise routine and outpatient PT. While I've not lost much ability, post-workout, I am absolutely knackered. That and my muscles are screaming at me—loud, furiously annoyed screaming. This is, to be abundantly clear, NO fun.

Cake is sympathetic BUT, at the same time, he meows trite bullshit like, no pain, no gain. Shut up, cat!

Today I'll attempt to go a bit easier on meself (in hopes of mitigating the persistent pain in my back and chest). The plan is:

• Ten laps of the front porch done withOUT walker OR cane (this takes a shit-ton more concentration than you might think)
  
• Ten minutes on the elliptical
• Stretching
• A few different strength building exercises

I think this is a respectable amount of work for an off day. Tomorrow I'll go for a longer walk AND do the balance and strength calisthenic crap. I'd truly love to walk into Doc Plotkin's office, for my late August check-in, under my own power—no wheelchair, walker or cane. Boy, that'd knock his socks off. Doc Barker, my surgeon, didn't think I'd walk unassisted again. 

I'm fucking well planning on doing exactly that.