They Tried to Make Me Go To Rehab. . .

Entry 1

Yesterday, I finally started cardiac rehabilitation. I have to drive all the way to NW Hospital, where the UW has centered It's cardiac rehab program in Seattle to attend. Believe it or not, I actually tried to sign up at Valley Medical for rehab. If you call there yourself, you will be sent straight to voicemail. They promise to call you back. Despite calling several times, I never did get a call back. NW is materially different--and much farther away. I called last week--and they found a cancelation and got me in yesterday morning. 

My nurse, whose name escapes me, is amazing. Yesterday was really mostly a two hour interview, where I talked about my diet and exercise regimen, the former not much to talk about, the latter a discussion about how I don't exercise at all anymore.

I had to disclose my depression level through the standard survey. I am never very aware of where I land on the scale, meaning I am simply not in touch with my feelings, but yesterday's  outcome was darker than I'd expected, but not completely indicating I am bereft of hope. Therapy and meds, likely indicated--that's my indication.

I was promised by the nurse my waistline would be measured. She kept her word--almost. My waist measures 33 or 34, depending on the company selling the pants. She wasn't actually interested in my pant-size. They really are talking about belly-size, I learned as she applied the measuring tape. Let's just say that the waist and belly measurements were divergent. 

When I visited my GP last month, I told her moving my shoulders caused me grave pain at times. She had me raise my arms above my head and put my hands together. My left shoulder started to spasm, visibly. She gave me a referral to P/T. (I haven't taken advantage of the referral as of yet.) She didn't suggest a cause. Yesterday, when reviewing all my physical defects, I mentioned this to the nurse. She had me do some range of motion to show how well my shoulders worked. They worked well enough, but not so well as to disguise the decrease in mobility.  It turns out, if you sit around like a statue for the better part of a year and are diabetic, the odds you might get something called "frozen shoulder syndrome" are pretty good. 

According to the Mayo Clinic, "Frozen shoulder, also called adhesive capsulitis, involves stiffness and pain in the shoulder joint. Signs and symptoms typically begin slowly, then get worse. Over time, symptoms get better, usually within 1 to 3 years." I expect that it will be less time than that. I find it ironic that I've given myself the old cold shoulder. Also, it really fucking hurts. The nurse gave me some advice on an exercise to do. I did some additional research, and having done some this morning, my shoulders feel better-at least momentarily. I will need that p/t to be sure.

I will be attending cardiac rehab 2x each week for 4.5 months. My goal is to get back to the shape I was in when I was walking those crazy distances back when I was coping with Jenny's cancer and her rejection of me. I am truly excited about the coming months. 


Yesterday, Abby asked me to go for a walk after work. Amazing. Leiney, after dropping Jared off at the airport (he was flying home to go on vacation with his family), came to go on the walk with us. We decided on Seahurst Park, which is a lovely beach here in Burien. The weather was perfect, the beach not too crowded, and the breeze cooling enough to make the walk enchanting. We had a nice 2.5 mile walk, before coming home and ordering dinner. I love my girls. September will be hard, with Leineh in Italy and Abby in Massachusetts. Willow and I will make do.

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