Batter up!

The LIVESTRONG at the YMCA family grows

It's been a full week at the Y. 

The cancer survivors group I coach, LIVESTRONG at the YMCA had our final assessments and graduations this week. Their outcomes were amazing. The members of my exercise classes had a Thanksgiving feast provided by The Willows at Citation, a senior living facility in our neighborhood. I trained all my clients and taught four classes without mishap. Spent some time listening and consoling folks about fearful diagnoses. In between, I managed to help a handful of folks to earn their CPR/First Aid certifications. It is good for me to reflect on such things. It reminds me why I'm still up at bat, taking my cuts, and why it is so important for me to keep my eye on the many weird balls that life pitches me.

Monday's CT scan revealed "nothing remarkable" in my head. That news comforted my fears a little, even if the language hurt my ego. Next week will bring an ultra-sound scan of my carotid arteries to look for blockages, and an optometry exam to find out if there's anything weird going on in there. If they find nothing in my neck or eyes, I suppose they'll start digging a little deeper. It's a strange place to be: wishing they'd find the answer, and being afraid of the answers they might find. 

My symptoms have continued. I'm still visited by the dizziness, the blurred vision, and the "whooshing" sound in my head. I'm also visited daily by friends and colleagues who are caring and praying for me. Yes, I still feel the room spin , but I feel the love and light surrounding me even more. I sometimes wish I were a more private person who kept his problems to himself. It feels pathetic and needy to kvetch on and on in such a public way, but the love I get comforts my heart so. I don't want to give it up. I asked my sister, "What if they don't find anything, and it turns out I'm just a cranky old geezer who wants attention?" She reminded me that we've been cranky and old for a long time, so what's the difference?

Food is the most abused anti-anxiety drug in America, and exercise is the most potent yet under-utilized anti-depressant. - Bill Phillips, Body for Life 

2011 Iron Horse. My first Half-Marathon

I don't know who Bill Phillips is, but he's written a book that I just may need to read. Food has always been my drug of choice (is it any wonder I'm spending so much time in my 60's thinking about strokes and heart disease?) and since failing to commit suicide by Cherry Garcia, I have found that exercise is an indispensable part of my mental health maintenance. Even though I've only worked out a couple of hours in the last two weeks, my time in the pool, on the treadmill, and at the heavy bag didn't do me any harm; they were an uplifting reminder that whatever might be wrong inside me, something in there is still right. "Motion is medicine," said some smart guy I know, and it is as important to keeping me alive as the statins and beta-blockers. This episode has set my marathon training back a couple weeks, but I'm a long way from surrendering to a bag of Doritos. That gives me hope.

My beautiful sisters, and their cranky old brother.

We Gather Together... Thanksgiving is this week, and I have so many reasons for gratitude. I have work that I love, people who care about me, a family that still speaks to one another, and against all odds, I ain't dead yet. Sophie the cat continues to teach me that life is best lived by eating well, running often, purring around people you love, and napping whenever possible. There may be things about my life I would like to change, but there's a lot that I wouldn't trade for anything.

I'm still in there, taking my ups. My bat has slowed down, and Life has been throwing screw balls - but it sure is good to still be in the game.