Two numbers today. Just two numbers but what an impact they can have on a day. One I can do nothing to change. My age. How did I get here? When did this happen? It's true, you turn around and the years have flown by. It's hard to understand or even believe. I am sitting here in awe of time. It can drag and fly by. There is nothing I can do about this number but accept it. And I do. I am always telling people age is just a number. Don't let it define you. Every era of life has it's own wonder. I believe this and I try to live by it. I don't want to let this get me upset or send me on a downward spiral. Many things are changing and it is natural, I just have to let it be. But I promise myself not to let it hinder me any more than it has to. Some things are not as easy to do. That's okay. I still enjoy my life and am looking forward to watching that number grow. The other number, my weight, I have to do something about! I do not accept it! It has to go down and only I have the power to do it. Every night I tell myself I will do better tomorrow. Well tomorrow has come! I know it has to start with small changes in my habits and big changes in my thinking. Or maybe the other way around. Either way I have to take charge! Start new habits, learn more about what is happening to my body and how to get healthy and stay that way. And I need to be accountable to myself. I matter and I want better for myself. I will do it. Neither if these numbers define who I am but they each represent a part of me, good or bad. It is up to me what I do about them.
Thursday, February 21, 2019
Friday, August 7, 2015
Today I finished 12 weeks of cardiac rehab. Three times a week I would leave the house at 7:40am to make my 8:15 appointment. Each morning during the drive I would ask God to please bless my work-out and bring healing to my physical heart and my spiritual heart. He did both.
When I started rehab in May I was not too happy about going. The first day I got to the center a little early so I walked to the other side of the building to use the ladies room. I really just needed a moment to gather my thoughts and prepare myself for what was coming. I did not want to go in there. Again, I asked God to heal my heart and just help me get through this. This became my routine, I started every session the same way. At first I did it to calm down, eventually it became a time to set my mind on healing and restoration.
Even though my doctor insisted and everyone said it would be good for me, I did not want to go to rehab. It was just another reminder of what had happened to me. I was tired of talking about it and even more tired of thinking about it. I just wanted to pretend it ever happened. I didn't want to answer questions or compare treatments or be in a room filled with people who were "recovering" from anything. I dreaded going for the first two weeks. I tried to think of reasons I couldn't go, but I did go, never missing except when I went out of town and once when the building lost power. I would get on the treadmill and walk and walk and walk. Then work my arms. That machine is called a Windjammer. Round and round. Each machine has a picture of the muscles you work during that particular work-out. I started imagining my muscles getting stronger and healthier. I liked that. It felt good. I even tried a rowing machine a couple times. Sometimes it was hard, really hard. Often I had to come home and take a short nap. And I was always hungry when I left. I started keeping grapes and bananas in the car for the ride home. And water. I drank a lot of water!
I started rehab kicking and screaming (at least in my head) but ended with a different view. Rehab became my way of fighting back. My heart attack took a lot from me, mostly mental, but still a lot. I almost let it defeat me, instead it changed me. I am not the same. I think I am stronger now, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes I have a hard time breathing, I get tired more often. I take a lot of pills every day. I don't think any of that will change. However, I am determined to not let it take anything else from me.
Several people have asked me if it was a wake-up call. I tell them yes, God did wake me up that night. And He spared my life. I was not afraid that night and I am not afraid now. I am excited to see what He has planned for my future. I am a survivor.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
When I was a little girl I loved to take the bus with my grandma. Catching the bus at the corner usually meant a trip to the store.
The ride itself was an adventure. It started with putting the fare into the box. Most days I could drop the coins in and watch them travel down and hear the clank clank of their journey.
But some days we had to get change!
I can remember wanting to be a bus driver so I too could push the little levers and feel the coins drop into my hand.
The people on the bus were so interesting. Some got off the bus at the hospital, nurses, patients and visitors. I wondered what they would be doing while I was shopping with my grandma. The ladies would smile at us. I just knew they were happy for me and grandma out on our day trip. Some of the people would get off the bus with us when we got to our corner. We would stand up half a block before our destination, letting the driver know we wanted to get off. Walking and holding on to the seats as we made our way to the front while the driver slowed down to bring us to our stop. Then holding the metal bar and stepping down two steps and jumping off the bottom step. We were there!