Thursday, August 30, 2012

Pilates II

Good morning sunshines:

Well things are going pretty well.  I did another Pilate’s session yesterday and I’m only kind of miserable today.

There were about six of us yesterday lying on the floor in one of the department’s classrooms -- this one unused at lunch. The lights were off and not sure if it’s to avoid seeing me in all my middle-aged glory or if it was to set an ironic relaxing tone. There were orange and purple mats arrange in a semi-circle around the grand inquisitor (actually she is a very nice lady who takes time out to teach us this stuff; I just like being a victim).

So anyway the dispenser of pain or pleasure in chief, tells us to to stand up.  We each have a small nine inch schoolyard ball that is available at any grocery store for about $2. Mine’s pink because of my overt masculinity and the testosterone oozing from every pore; actually the were sold out of Dora the Explorer balls and I had to settle.

I am wandering.

This wonderful lady (I better say nice things in case she reads this) puts us through different exercise, but the long and the short of is you are supposed squeeze the ball, breath a certain way, and control your abdominal muscles as you go through each movement. If done with gusto,  this stuff ain’t easy. And me if I am nothing else I am full of gusto.

When I squeeze that ball my goal is to pop it. My arms quiver, my belly aches, and I can am winded from the inhaling and exhaling.

I guess that’s it.

See ya!

Bill

Monday, August 27, 2012

workout news (language warning)

Hey guys:

Well a little old lady with gray hair worn in a bun kicked my ass. I must outweigh her by  80 lbs, and more than a foot taller, and I bet I can bench press three of her. All she needed to equalize things was a little red nine inch ball you can buy at the grocery store.
Did she tie me up and pummel me like I was in a middle-school dodge ball hell? No it was even more sinister.
She clothed the whole torture in an exercise program -- Pilates (or some kind of sadistic derivative). I think it is on the CIA list of banned interrogation techniques -- somewhere between water boarding and cigarette burns. It was hideous I tell you.

I had no idea a little red ball could result in so much pain. I’ve been summoned to her hideout on Wednesday. I’m thinking about giving up my ATM pin for mercy.

That’s it for now

Peace.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Posts and courage

I was going to post something about work, then thought better of it. Suffice it to say returning to work after cancer is a very strange deal. I will keep the piece for a future post.

People get fired all the time for work posts and I don’t want to join them yet.

This a picture of a tranquil future state.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Paranorman


 I went to see Paranoman at the local Bijou last night -- that’s right we went out at night -- and it was hilarious, intellectually deep, and really some of the finest writing I’ve experienced in a great while.

I give it four out five chemo bags. 

veterans golf thing epilogue

I’ll post some pictures Monday, but my day at the golf outing for the Wounded Warrior project was a lot of fun. My friends and I came in second in the tournament. It was quite excellent. We shot -3 for the day and ended up with some groovy hats and free gold balls.  My back held out pretty well and no signs of neuropathy so that’s all cool.
Actually It was good.
I am playing again today.

I’ve begun stepping up my workout since my back has recovered somewhat.  This damn scar and the muscles un underneath it at my belly from last year’s operation have been hurting laetely. I did 60 crunches the other day; maybe that’s it.

I sometimes forget my body is till torn up and still healing.



Monday, August 13, 2012

Veterans Golf thing

It’s early. For me it’s actually the same time I usually write, but for the rest of the world it’s early.  Going to Porky’s today to play in a veterans golf tournament. I have to re-look at the flyer, because I think there is a lunch in the fee.

It’ll be about $125, but it is for a good cause. Money’s tight, but sometimes you gotta do things.

Well I am getting further and further from the cancer thing and feeling as though everything will be fine. I guess that’s what recovery is about. I still get fatigued by 1500, maybe always will.

Changing my exercise routine a bit and experimenting with the exercise ball.





Wednesday, August 8, 2012

recumbent Bike

Went about 30 minutes on the recumbent bike this morning and then did some stretches in the living room. I was going to go longer, but I chickened out.
My back was still a bit tender, but nothing like it was. I am a bit tentative about pushing too hard as I’m beginning to think healing this thing is going to take a bit longer than it used to. Regardless I’m going to do some stretching and back workout at lunchtime.

That being said, I could sure use a burger at lunch.

I JUST CAN'T WIN


 Just getting ready to go ride the recumbent bike and see what I can do. 

The sun rose slowly and warmly across the backyard Sunday morning. The multi shade of green garden of pumpkins, tomatoes, and corn was buzzing with bees pollinating all the plants. Bill walked out of his back door at 6:30, stopped momentarily, basking in the morning sun reflecting off the dew, as if he were some colossus standing guard over the land.

Ah … Yertle the Turtle.

He passed the garden opening the side door to the white garage. There they were – his weights; his constant friends for more than four decades. They would never let him down. It was a mismatched collection of Weider, York, Billard and, a bunch of weights without names; some made in china, others the U.S.

From one of the rafters hung a giant hook which held four exercise bands of surgical tubing Bill used for tricep extensions. He’d switch from two to four bands depending on his mood, strength, and caffeine level. The old weightlifting bench was in near the back of the garage and on it was two bars; one an e-z curl bar resting in the padding loaded with about 60 pounds and a strait bar resting on the steel bar supports for bench pressing it was loaded with 85 lbs. There two 45 lb. dumbbells and another straight bar on the floor with 60 lbs.

Bill figured he’d get an early morning arm blast before he and his wife went to the realtor at 11 to finalize the listing for their home.

He picked up the straight bar and began slow curl repetitions, fully extending his army and then bring the bar back to shoulder level. With each movement his body began to glisten as the early humidity collected on his skin.

He moved to the e-z curl bar and did the same thing. More sweat. There is a certain visceral enjoyment in lifting weights, he thought as he moved to the other straight bar.

He reached down, drops of sweat falling off his nose. Instead of doing curls with the lighter straight bar, he decided to do some military presses and then put the bar down to do another set of curls. He knocked out the presses, put the bar on the ground, changed his grip, and felt a ripping, binding, searing pain tear through the small of his back.

He couldn’t breathe – only grown. He was having muscle spasms.

He dropped his weightlifting belt and struggled to make it back inside the house with his weightlifting gloves still on. He waddled like a fat man to a birthday as he made it to his recliner in the family room. As he sat, a woeful groan escaped his lips.

“Billy, are you okay,” his wife called.

“No, I threw my back out,” he said. “HELP ME!”

His wife ran from the room pulling her night gown on as she went. “What can I do,” she souted on the run.

“Get me some Naproxen and come over here please.”

Kate fished through the cabinets, tied her house dress around her, found the medicine, and ran to the living room.

“Take my gloves off my hands,” Bill said.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she peeled the Velcro from his wrists and pulled the gloves off.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “I can’t move anything. I’m in terrible pain.”

“We have to get some ice on that.”

“I know,” he said. “But don’t move me. Let’s just wait a minute.”

This exchange, or some like it, lasted for about a half an hour until the two eventually were able to get ice on the area and the pain subsided enough to get Bill in the car for the realtor appointment.

When they entered the office, the realtor, Jessica, greeted them, “How are you?”

“Oh I’m fine,” Kate said. “But Bill is a bit stoved up.”

“Really,” Jessica said. “What’s wrong?”

“I hurt my back working out this morning.”

“Really,” She said in disbelief. “You workout?”

Bill Potter

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

I have a big appointment Wednesday with my oncology doc – I guess he’s a hematology doc really. I’m a bit leery, but we’ll see what happens. I still have the underarm ache and hopefully it’s tendonitis from lifting weights like a 20-year old with a 54-year old body. Speaking of which, I have made huge jumps in my strength, but need to turn to my core training. I’ve been kind of tentative because I still get some pain from the bowel resection scar, but what the hell …

My back was pretty messed up all weekend, but it is slowly coming back – another reason for strengthening my core.

That’s it.

Love ya all

Bill

back to the drawing board


Back to the drawing board

I’ve decided to start writing on this blog again. Maybe people will see it maybe they won’t. At some level it really doesn’t matter. I hit a snag n my recovery when I hurt my back lifting weights last Sunday.  I cried like a baby. Anyway there is a perspective here I missed. I can’t track the challenges I am going through and can’t leave a trail behind like Arne Saknussemm.
It’s back to the drawing board with back exercises and core tightening before I can start hoisting the weights I was banging out.