kvetching up

 " My idea of exercise is a good brisk sit. "                                        -Phyllis Diller Today I went to Valley Medical Center cardiac rehab for my initial screening. It is completely different than what I experienced at NW Hospital. I've nothing against NW, but the level of intervention here is extraordinary, and I would assume, will produce better results. OTOH, don't go to the Valley ER with a heart attack. .  . There were many screenings today--all to establish standards to rely on when adjudging metrics. Pre-exercise and post-exercise blood sugar, hand grip, body composition, exercise baseline, starting and ending blood pressure. Maybe others. It's more likely than not that I forgot something.  The blood sugar was in normal range--bizarre. The exercise baseline places me in the highest functioning group, according to the hospital's scale. Tha...

5.16.2026 2014 was the last time I was under 150. I can say with certainty that I was walking 6 miles a day then, and the experience was far more pleasant than using a GLP-1 . That I am taking it to address diabetes is something of a consolation. The fact I was nauseous after eating a meal yesterday and unable and uninterested in eating today given I am at peak nausea makes this milestone less appealing this time. Also, isn't this weight drop dangerous for my heart? After 4.5 months I am down 23 lbs, and still falling. I am so food averse today that the trip to the all holy Costco on samplepalooza Saturday only made me more nauseous. Yuck. OTOH, I am down about 5 pant sizes. 5. I bought a pair of 30w pants today, and they are still too big. I haven't worn a pair of pants less than 30w since I dated Margy back in the mid-1980s. I attribute this to the loss of muscle mass attendant with the use of a GLP-1 . 

 Entry 1 10:07 a.m. I work all day, every day. It's how I make my money. I do the chores. Its what I do. What I don't do is take Jenny's behemoth for a walk each day, as she needs. I am up with her each morning, tending to her for several hours each morning, and then intermittently for the rest of my waking hours.  This morning, at 5:30, I stood on my stoop with a hot cup of coffee as the dogs, mostly Willow, cavorted through the yard, did their business and sniffed and snuffled everything in site for 15 minutes. It was her first frost . Buddy went back in after 5 minutes, as a good old man dog should. Willow, exploring her first frost, wasn't interested in returning. I let them out again, because in the morning they go out over and again, around 6. In between, I prepared their morning treats. This is daily. It allows me to get some peace for a very few minutes while I drink my coffee. This first treat is a dog bone in a puzzle. One for each. That took a very short time...

  Entry 1     10:31 a.m. Woke this morning at 6:00 a.m.  with today squarely on my mind.  I am sitting outside the procedure room in the Jones Pavilion at Virginia Mason, almost exactly 13 months from the first time Jenny had a procedure done.  She is in with the health care professionals for a tumor biopsy of her liver. The women at the admitting desk tried to chase me away almost immediately. VM would prefer no one be in the building, save the workers and patients. I can't stand the idea of being farther away than necessary. They suggested I not come in at the entrance, but there is no bar, and Jenny needed  me to be with her. Largely empty corridor waiting room. Jenny had  blood work done, got some preliminary pictures taken (both done in the Buck Pavilion). We then walked or hobbled over here to Jones Pavilion.  She told me one of her mets on her liver is the distance between, bending her forefinger and thumb to show the size, about...

 Entry 1          9:13 a.m. I woke after 7 to Jenny's text, an understandable refrain, "I don't want to die."  I wanted to get up and run to comfort her. Alas, my knees didn't.  When I finally got the gumption up to locomote, the dogs were stirring, and Jenny had to take them out for their morning constitutional around the yard.   I am listening to Jenny on the phone with a newly diagnosed PDAC patient, who is a friend of a friend of her sister Moni. Jenny is the old hand, coaching her through the terrible realities that come with the diagnosis with insight, loving patience and compassion.  "I can't believe I have a friend who has the same thing as me," she says to a woman she has never met, with genuine joy in her voice.  This is the Jenny with whom I fell in love.  I can tell from the arc of the conversation, and the increasing laughter that, this woman who has never had chemo yet, is being greatly comforted.  I wis...