Tag Archives: health

I Wilnot Apologize Again

This morning, I thought I would not write a Non-Sequitur Thursday post, I would write a real post. I wrote the following:

Steven and I left the Herkimer County Humane Society and headed for Ilion Farmer’s Market.

I can’t write. I’m too ill. That was a contradiction. How much time in this blog do I spend WRITING that I cannot write? And why is cannot one word but you don’t combine “not” with other words? Didnot would be a little awkward, because of the dn, but how about willnot? You could even drop one l, wilnot, a marvelous savings over time, especially when one considers the number of things one wilnot do (or at least says one wilnot then turns around and does it anyways; don’t you just hate that?)(donot you just hate that?).

I wrote a few more paragraphs about how crappy I felt, but really, the above is the only one worth reading. I admit to being amused by it myself.

So, yeah, still sick. I went to the doctor today at a thing called Convenient Care at Bassett Health in Herkimer. I suppose it would be appropriate to do a blog post on them, but the stuff they prescribed for my nausea hasn’t kicked in yet (hasnot?). Perhaps I could go on for a couple of more paragraphs about how hard it is to write when your nauseous, but I guess I’ve already touched on the irony of writing about not writing (for about the 8,347th time).

As a side note: I just completed two years of writing this blog. How cool is that?

The Malady Lingers

Well, you can all just be mad at me, because I’m taking another blogger’s sick day. And I haven’t caught a second wind, so I don’t expect to get a whole lot of words out of it.

In my defense, I did not call in sick to work today. I then spent the first two hours wishing I had. I spent the next few hours watching lunch time draw slowly closer. I felt a little better by lunch. Not better enough to eat any lunch. At least, it seemed safer not to, if you see what I mean (in the interests of over-sharing, I had a clean pair of pants and underwear in my bag in case of dire emergency). I spent the afternoon wondering if time was in fact slowing down.

I think part of my problem in the afternoon was that I knew I could not go straight home and collapse. I had to go vote on the school board and library budget. I had a blog post to write. The further away bed time is, the more tired I feel. And if I don’t think I’m going to get my full eight hours, YIKES!

When I spoke to Steven on my lunch, I told him I would probably write the three sentence post I had thought to write Monday: “I’m sick. I can’t write a post. Sue me.” But now I see I am over 200 words. How did that happen?

With Apologies

Yesterday I went to the Dirty Work at the Crossroads cast party feeling drained but happy. Well, that didn’t last.

I don’t believe I mentioned that my husband Steven got sick with a stomach bug last Monday. He thought it was something he ate, but I heard there was Something Going Around. I felt a little ill to my stomach that Monday and figured that was the worst that would happen to me. Ha!

Saturday night it hit two cast members. According to one of the sufferers, one had it coming out one end, one had it coming out the other. A crew member procured some ginger ale for them. The other crew member opened the dressing room door and let them sit outside in the cool air, which also helped. Another cast member had some stomach problems but concluded it was just nerves. My stomach fluttered a little, but I figured it was sympathy. I have a very suggestible body (although for a while now I’ve been suggesting to it that it lose ten pounds, to no avail).

So Sunday, there I was, sipping a little white wine, eating some chips and dip. Steven procured me a cup of coffee, since my body REALLY wanted to sleep. I would just like to insert here: I poured myself a small portion of wine which I did not finish. So any of you who just zeroed in on the wine and was saying, “Well, THERE’S your problem!” can just keep quiet.

And then it started to come over me. I asked Steven to take me home. We only live about ten minutes away from Ilion Little Theatre. I apologized profusely for being such a wimp. I’m convinced that if it had happened to me during one of the performances, I could have persevered. I also feel fortunate that this theory was not put to the test.

I spent the next thirty or so hours between my bed and the bathroom. Not to be disgusting, but it was coming out of both ends (luckily not at the same time). My head hurt so bad I couldn’t stand it. My back hurt so bad I couldn’t stand it. In short, I was a big huge baby but felt I had cause.

And yet, I must do a blog post every day. It is my rule for myself. I kept thinking I would just type in three sentences of an excuse and be done with it. Then I felt some slight relief in my symptoms. Dare I say I feel better? I don’t want to jinx it, because I’ve felt that way a couple of times already, only to be disappointed.

At any rate, I turned on the computer, got to wordpress.com and started typing. This is the result. I had not meant to be so lengthy about it, but, well, these things happen. I hope tomorrow to be feeling better enough that I can do a blog post I will actually edit.

A Sick Day with Georgette

Yesterday when I kind of combined Non-Sequitur Thursday with Lame Post Friday, I had thought I was going to find some good, blogworthy topic to write about on Friday (today). After all, I didn’t have to go to work. I had big plans of things to do. The sky was the limit!

Oh, man, I’ve been sick. It started Wednesday with extreme light-headedness. Then I didn’t feel so bad on Thursday, so I thought, “Oh, it’s just my spring allergies kicking in. I can rock this.” Then I woke up this morning and thought, “Oh, no.”

I actually did leave the house, determined to function in my ill-feeling state. After all, I’ve worked ten hour days with a screaming headache. I could have a couple of Mohawk Valley adventures while experiencing light-headedness, right? Not so much.

If any of you are currently expressing horror that I drove my vehicle in a lightheaded state, sorry. It wasn’t really that bad. I don’t think I was a danger to myself and others. I managed to run my errands, one of which was, I believe, blogworthy in the usual sense. However, I will not write about it now, for reasons that will become clear when I eventually do write about it. If anybody remembers the preceding sentence, and, quite frankly, I’m not counting on anybody continuing to read after the second paragraph.

Anyways, when I got home, the light-headedness kicked in full force. I couldn’t do anything by lie on the couch and read a Georgette Heyer book. For a little variety, I went up and laid down on the bed and read, then napped a little.

And, by the way, how about a brief shout out to Georgette Heyer? She pretty much invented the Regency Romance. Nobody before or since has done it as well. Oh, well, maybe Jane Austen. It is so cool to think that there was a time when people felt obligated to be civil. Judging from some of the stuff I read on Facebook or hear in the streets, that is emphatically no longer the case. That could be a topic for another blog post. When I’m feeling better.

No Spring in My Step

So there I was, having Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I had managed to grocery shop, do dishes, put in a load of laundry. Where, I asked myself, was the Mohawk Valley adventure in that? Then my husband Steven came home from work and graciously agreed to go with me and our schnoodle Tabby on a walk. I decree that it is perfectly acceptable to write a blog post about a walk.

It wasn’t bitter cold out; in fact, it was above freezing. This was evidenced by the fact that the snow was melting and making some major puddles. Still, I wished I had remembered my mittens. I compensated by pulling my hands into my sleeves. Unfortunately, I was wearing the coat that fits, not the insulated sweatshirt where the sleeves are way long, so this was not as helpful or as comfortable as one could have wished. Did I mention it was Wrist to Forehead Sunday?

As we walked down the sidewalk (can’t trust the cars around here to be careful of a cute little doggie after all), we saw a major lake of a puddle up ahead.

“Let’s not plow through that,” I said. “Let’s cross the street.”

The other side of the street had been neglected by the sidewalk plow, but there was a beaten path. Mushy snow offered less moisture to penetrate our sneakers. Tabby didn’t care either way: wade through water, plow through snow, she was happy.

We spent the rest of the walk skirting large puddles, crossing the street to avoid larger puddles, and walking through small puddles. It felt good to walk, and I did feel grateful that, after all, melting snow means spring is on the way. As happened on my run, though, I was not able to enjoy the scenery as well while watching where I could put my feet for the least soaking possible.

Then Steven got the bright idea to leap over a puddle. He got a running start. He leaped! He made it!

“I am not going to try that,” I said. And me the athlete of the family. I hang my head in shame as I type.

As we walked down Main Street, we came to a long expanse of bare sidewalk. Awesome! We sadly observed closed businesses. Less awesome. There are some signs of life. Pete’s Tavern still does a business. Collis Hardware is still around. Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner is a going concern. The lady in Hummel’s Office Plus waved at us as we went by. Tabby likes to go in and say hello sometimes, but I thought her muddy paws were best kept outside. Belly Up Pub was open too.

We went through Meyers Park and started up Bellinger Street. I saw a puddle up ahead.

“Are you going to jump that one?” I asked. Then as we got closer, “Oh, no, that one’s bigger now that I look at it.” Steven attempted it anyways. He got a running start! He leaped! He didn’t make it! I should perhaps mention that he had not changed out of his work pants before we started out. “Oh, no, and I already did laundry,” I lamented.

“Water dries,” Steven pointed out.

“Mud doesn’t,” I said. “At least, it does and then it’s dirt.”

I did enjoy our walk, even though I am SO looking forward to warmer temperatures and no snow. For one thing, it gave me a 500 word blog post. Unless I read the draft to Steven and he insists I take out the part about him jumping the puddles. Some of you are probably still thinking I should have attempted it, too (you know who you are).

Snapshots of a Weekend

It is not Wrist to Forehead Sunday. For one thing, with the cold I am suffering, I am completely disinclined to move my limbs at all. I raise my hands to the keyboard. That’s as far as they go. Oh, well, occasionally as high as my nose, but that will give you a nasty mental image, so let’s not go there.

Where was I? Ah yes, in need of a blog post. I can just see some of you shaking admonitory fingers at me. How many foolish posts about not writing a post can I get away with, you are asking me in righteous indignation.

I seem to remember saying people could shake their fingers, their heads or their groove things at me and welcome. I thought it was a clever line at the time. Imagine my chagrin when I heard the song and in fact it is “Shake your booty,” not “Shake your groove thing.” Well, shake what you like. How about Shake’n’Bake for dinner? After all, feed a cold.

So I thought I’d mention in passing a few little things I did this weekend. Saturday I watched a movie called Crack-Up, which I had DVR’d back in October the same day I DVR’d Prehistoric Women, which I seem to remember writing kind of a fun post about (I’m not flattering myself here, it was indeed fun for me to write; I only hope it was also fun to read). Crack-Up was not nearly as fun or cheesy, but I don’t despair about finding something to say about it sometime.

For Saturday night dinner Steven called one of our favorites, Salvatore’s in Herkimer, NY. We got Greens Salvatore and Zitis with tomato sauce. Yum! So prompt of delivery, too. This time I held onto Tabby so she could not personally greet the delivery person, much to her chagrin. It was such a good dinner, I thought it not inappropriate to give them another plug. You can go to the Salvatore’s Herkimer Facebook page for a link to their website.

Gee, that’s only two snapshots. Oh, what do you people want from me? I took a couple of naps, talked to a sister on the telephone, made some silly comments on Facebook, finished knitting a scarf. I felt grateful to not have to leave the house.

So there you have it, another blogger’s sick day. Let’s hope for better health and better writing tomorrow. Happy Sunday, everyone.

Curvy Me

I believe I’ve mentioned in passing that I work out at Curves in Herkimer, NY. I thought it was time I wrote a post about it.

My friends Kelly and Phyllis had been going to Curves for some time. I had noticed they both looked pretty terrific (actually they looked pretty terrific to start with, but you know what I mean). When Phyllis started telling me how many inches she had lost, my interest was caught.

I’ve lost weight through running and the South Beach Diet, but my figure is still not where I’d like it to be (I know, looks aren’t everything, yeah, yeah, yeah). Also, I felt I needed to work other muscles that those used in running. Doing push-ups and sit-ups on my own was not cutting it, especially since I was not exactly maintaining consistency with that program.

So now I go to Curves Monday, Wednesday and Friday after work. It’s an intense workout that lasts about a half hour and seems to utilize every possible muscle (although my knowledge of anatomy is imperfect).

You badge in with a little card that looks like those membership cards all the stores give you these days. Then as you go around the circuit, you put the card in each machine so it can track your progress. There is a little light that shows green for good and orange for not so good. Oh, I hate to see that orange! In between each machine is a pallet that you jog or march or dance on till the lady interrupts the music to tell you to change stations.

Oh yes, the music. They play quite a mixture of music, all of it set to the same beat. I make myself obnoxious by singing along to the songs I know. At least, I don’t know if anybody finds it really obnoxious. I think some folks are amused. Hey, anything to keep myself motivated.

The best thing about Curves is the people that go there. Everybody is supportive and encouraging. We yell remarks or jokes across the room and definitely let others know when they are looking good.

Curves also offers coaching, diet tips and more. Phyllis, Kelly and I may check out the Zumba class one day (that will surely rate a post). I purchased some excellent Curves socks to wear when I work out, and I will probably get a new sports bra or two as well. Perhaps a pedometer, to see how many steps I get in at work every day.

Curves in Herkimer is located at 300 Prospect St., phone 315-866-3100. They are open Monday through Thursday 5:30 a.m. to 7:30 p.m., Friday 5:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m., and Saturday 7 a.m. to noon. For more information, visit their website at www.herkimercurves.com or you can like their Facebook page. See you on the circuit!

Here We Go Again

I guess you could say it’s Wrist to Forehead Sunday, but my wrist is not literally on my forehead (I hate typing one-handed anyways). I just don’t want to lift my arm that high.

My sinuses have been bad lately, but I have been muddling through. This morning I woke up with dreadful nausea and I knew what to blame. Seriously, I had not done one thing to deserve being sick. No rich food, no booze, only the usual amount of stress. I decided to break down and go get some serious decongestant and live with the consequences.

And now you, gentle reader, must live with the consequences too. I am too lightheaded to write a decent post (I know, what’s my excuse the rest of the time? Well, I can only do my best). Luckily most of the Christmas presents are wrapped (I could have done a whole post on those trials and tribulations, but some of the recipients may read this blog). And I still have tomorrow.

For today, I’m afraid it’s television, crochet and posting complaints on Facebook. I did call my Mom and tell her I was sick. I know other people who do that: however old we get, when we don’t feel good we call Mom for some sympathy. She said maybe I’m coming down with something, it’s going around.

I looked back on a couple of posts I remember doing when I was under the weather. One of them went on for quite some time chronicling my illness. I will spare you such a thing today (I guess you can always spare yourself such a thing by just stopping reading, that’s what I do). I hope you’re all enjoying Christmas Eve Eve, and I hope to post less lamely tomorrow.

Walk, Don’t Run

I was going to go running yesterday, because halfway through work I realized my back felt much better. I miss running! For one thing, I go further away from the house, so I see different scenery than when I take a walk with Tabby. For another thing, I’m gaining weight again. Say it ain’t so! If any more motivation is needed, it’s a built-in blog post.

On the other hand, for the past week my back has been really paining me. I mean, more so that your common or garden over-40 aches. I seriously considered going to the doctor and embarking upon a long struggle with addiction to prescription painkillers. Of course, there was no guarantee I could get in to see the doctor right away, and even less guarantee that he would prescribe anything beyond physical therapy and weight loss (say it ain’t so!).

While I dithered, I did some stretches I found in a Women’s Day magazine (April 2012) as well as a couple shown me by my mother and a woman at work. I know, this is not the same thing as working with a trained physical therapist who can ensure I am doing the appropriate moves with the proper form. Well, it fit my schedule and my budget for now.

And IT HELPED!!! I felt joyous. I knew I had sports bras clean. It had only been a week and one day since my last run. I could rock this! Then I thought, don’t be stupid. Your back just this minute stopped hurting, don’t instantly do something known to cause back strain. Still, running helps with the weight loss thing. I dithered a little more (I always say, go with your strengths).

Perhaps it was fortunate that my back started twinging again on the drive home. I thought a nice walk with Tabby would be more my speed. Tabby was agreeable. She didn’t want to go very far, either. Two blocks was all we did. I stretched some more later on.

Today at work, my friend who had shown me the one stretch brought me a copy of the physical therapy exercises she did when she was out for a month with back pain. I showed them to another co-worker and assured him I intended to do these exercises faithfully, “So you won’t have to listen to me complain about my aching back ANY MORE!”

He expressed skepticism. I explained that he would still have to listen to me complain about other things, and he believed that much.

I had actually meant to write a blog post about my two block walk with Tabby. When I sat down and put pen to paper, all this garbage about my back came out. I originally thought I might segue into an amusing description of the walk and edit out the back garbage later, but for some reason I never quite got to the amusing description. Then I thought, it’s Lame Post Friday! What could be more lame than two Fridays in a row complaining about my aches and pains? Stay tuned for more posts about Why I Can’t Write a Decent Post. Happy Friday, everyone!