On Thursday I had a physical therapy appointment. Judy, who I adore (as does Cake), took me for a walk to the seawall. Up until Thursday, the farthest I’d gone without taking a wee sit-down break was about a quarter of a mile—just to the steps down to the beach and back. Not much BUT, you try doing this shit after your third brain surgery within a four year span (sixth overall neurosurgery in six years).
How’d I do? Better. I was able to make it a bit farther, walking .38 of a mile without a rest stop.
Judy and I got back to the house where I sprawled in my comfy chair, sucking down oxygen and water as though I’d run a marathon. Once I’d sufficiently chilled I got on the elliptical for a whopping five minute ride. I’d be embarrassed about that five minute action but….well, see above. I gotta start somewhere. Later in the day, I managed a second brief elliptical session.
I felt great and slept exceptionally well that night too. Then Friday showed up. Oof. There was no pain (okay, I had a not-completely-debilitating headache—Tylenol fixed it) but, man oh man, I was riding the Fatigue Express to Lethargyville. I managed a shower. I donned clothing. I descended the stairs to the first floor. I sat down in my comfy chair and *BOOM* That was enough exercise for me.
Today I’ll attempt another seawall hike and more elliptical time. Also, this time for sure, I’m calling in sick to the Doomscrolling Marathon. NOT gonna get sucked into the gaslighting, clickbaity melodrama.
In case you weren’t sure, I’m ridin' with Biden—one of the best, most progressive and accomplished Presidents of my long-ass lifetime.
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