Wellington · Living

Wow I feel good. I feel energized, and properly tired, and hungry, and, I don't know, like a man. And this despite a pretty messy week, health-wise.

Monday I got a call, to come in and pick up a prescription. Monday night that_cad and I did a bit of WoW, and Tuesday morning I got up early and headed over to my (the Boston) Medical Center. And then I proceeded to lose a day and a half of work.

The higher dose of Coumadin caused a problem. The whole reason they take my blood like vampires is to make sure the INR levels don't go too high. It's bad. Well, mine did. So it was off to bleed me dry and make me wait while they saw if I had liver damage or internal bleeding or any number of things. The funny thing was, I was feeling a little light-headed and distracted Monday, so who knows, maybe it was a good thing. But as far as I know, they poked and prodded and bled me for no reason than to warn off evil spirits, because nothing changed. Except that I was now once again behind at work. One good thing: I got to pop back home from time to time, so I could pick up a new book. I finished four.

Then came Wednesday morning's appointment with my endocrinologist, the one I'd had scheduled for months. And yes, I had a relapse of Graves' Disease. And, with the last blood test (nosferatu!), my levels had come to the perfect state to take the radioactive iodine and be "cured" (at least of hyperthyroidism.) [pause for shoe drop....] But, since I was on blood-thinners, and it was clear that I am having difficulty setting the dose, he didn't think we should risk it. It's too likely the sudden drop in metabolism would make the high Coumadin dose jump too high before they could correct. Yes, I could have drunk the iodine that day, and been more or less cured by Friday, but now I have to wait again, for six months, when I'm off the Coumadin. Joy. Oh, and did I mention I lost five more pounds?

Anyway, Dr. Safer put me back on the good ol' Tapazole. I'm now taking between six and six and a half pills a day. Nine, if you count the Flonase nasal inhaler and eye drops for my allergies. But I should finally be in a holding pattern, depending on Monday's blood test (going to Count Floyd, I believe.)

So, after all that crap, why do I feel good today? Well, see, I went and worked out. Yes, I'm free again to do so. But even better yet, I worked out with a trainer. I've decided I'm sick of fucking around. Last Sunday, I took my nephew out for his seasonal clothes shopping (like last year.) And, naturally, being a teenager, he'd grown. But Sam? Went from a Large to an X-L. We couldn't find dress shirts that fit him without getting custom ones. Afterwards, all I could think about was that since about 1990, when I took my first weight training class, I've been trying to get stronger, gain muscle, etc. Sam was born in 1991. Oh, I've made various progress along the line. But his nearly sixteen years of life, he's gotten to the point where he can bench press his weight. Where he can do more than three chin-ups. Where his shoulders fill out a shirt. And in all that time of flutzing about, trying out various gyms and programs, with various breaks, etc, I've gotten about fifteen more pounds on. And more body fat.

It probably didn't help my mood that I've been held back from working out for three months.

So today, after a bunch of interviews and shopping around, I joined Fitness Together, a one-on-one personal training regiment, that's about six blocks down Columbus from my house. It was not cheap. It wasn't even reasonable. It is expensive, period. But it's the full thing: dedicated one-on-one training, with real weights, a diet plan, "accountability journals" of what I eat, tests every four weeks, the works. I can probably afford it for about six months. And that's that. I'll be scheduling my life and work around these appointments (Wed and Fri, 7:30pm, and Sat 9:45am.) There can be some adjusting, but considering what I just put down to get in this, not much. And I'm taking it deadly seriously this time. This is my last big shot. I'm going to learn how the hell to really do this. And when the Coumadin treatment is done, and I get the Graves' taken care of, I'll be a new man. Just in time for my [shudder] twentieth high school reunion. Which my nephew will be at, since he's at the school now. Punk.

The first session went really well. The two trainers know what they're about, and "FT" has the right equipment: all of it. They did all the things I couldn't when I was trying to go to "Phase III" of S2B: working out my max weights, etc. Plus spotting for every rep, without having to beg. And I've got my comprehensive fitness test scheduled for next Wednesday night. I do apologize to folks who'll have to schedule stuff around this. I hope you'll understand. But I'm doing this.