Eighteen weeks have passed since my open-heart surgery. I spent two weeks going to Cardio rehab to get a program set up. The past two weeks I’ve been on my own with a daily gym routine that includes about 30-minutes on the stationary bike, 20-minutes of the rowing machine, 15-minutes on the treadmill, and some light weightlifting to conclude the workout. The good news is that I no longer double-up in pain from a simple sneeze, although still a bit uncomfortable. I would like to walk more but my left leg is still reacting with painful cramps and Charlie Horses. Oddly, the other exercises don’t seem to affect it. Next week, I get an Ultrasound that should indicate the problem.
I try to follow-up this workout with a late afternoon session in our swimming pool. I wear a cut-off tee-shirt to prevent any darkening of the scar tissue on my chest. This will probably have to continue through this summer. For about a half-hour, I will run in place, do some laps using both my arms and legs, step-ups, push-ups off the side of the pool, and stretching. Last night, after the gym, my legs were just too tired for the pool. My wife is concerned that I’m over-doing it, so I’ll make some compromises going forward.
I’m beginning to feel a lot stronger but still frustrated with my progress. I continue to struggle with some balance issues, dating back to long before surgery, and will return to chair yoga next week to work on this. Some medication adjustments have helped, and I still carefully monitor my blood pressure as advised by the cardiologist. There’s a little more tone to the muscles that were dormant for many weeks. It’s tough for a former active runner to get back in shape and lose weight. As a former boss liked to say, “onward and upward.”
It’s been a very exciting year for basketball in Indiana, even without the success of Indiana Basketball. IU did not make the tournament, fans lost faith in the coach, recruits reneged on their commitments, and the future looked grim. However, things quickly turned around after locking down the #1 class in the portal. As a result, the Hoosiers are finally getting some pre-season respect and Coach Mike Woodson has suddenly become a recruiting genius.
The real excitement, however, came from the rival Boilermakers, who made their way to the Championship game of the NCAA tournament, regaining the respect they lost last year in falling early in an embarrassing manner. They too have reloaded for the upcoming year and now the “way too early” projections show them #2 and #3 respectively, behind conference newcomer UCLA.
Let’s add the Indiana State Sycamores into this mix of statewide excitement. They barely missed selection into the NCAA Tournament, many say unjustly, and went on to compete in the Championship game of the NIT. Although Indiana State and Purdue both finished second, they rekindled March Madness locally. Let’s hope IU can join them next year!
But that’s not all! The Indiana Fever drafted Caitlin Clark #1 and sparked excitement on the professional basketball level. Although the Fever are off to a disappointing 0-5 start, the long-range potential is extremely promising. At the same time, the #6 seed Indiana Pacers caught fire and ousted both the favored Milwaukee Bucks and the evil New York Knicks. Game #7 at Madison Square Garden was as much excitement as we’ve seen since the Reggie Miller days. The Pacer’s then went on to “choke” themselves in Game #1 at the fabled Boston Garden.
There’s more Pacers basketball excitement to come in a month typically dominated by racing. Indiana sports fans are looking forward to a Memorial weekend that will include the Indianapolis 500, Pacers vs. Celtics Playoff basketball, and maybe a Fever first victory. The excitement is mounting!
It’s the middle of May and the start of the WNBA regular season, while the NBA playoffs begin to wind down. The Indiana Fever and Caitlin Clark had a tough debut against the Connecticut Sun, while the Indiana Pacers failed to maintain their winning momentum and fell badly to the Knicks. Shohei Ohtani had another big night at the plate for the Dodgers, while the Cubs lost to the Braves and the Sox split with the Nats. The Phillies and Kyle Schwarber were the first team to 30-wins, while the White Sox joined the Marlins in the 30-loss club. I.U. baseball plays the final series of the regular season against Michigan. Alex Palou won the Indy Grand Prix, in preparation for the upcoming Indy 500. That’s about it for me in the world of sports.
I just added my 250th item to the Sherm Lollar collection, a couple of more magazine clippings from 1947 and 1962. His #10 White Sox uniform hangs in my office, along with a photo/plague, catcher’s mitt, signed ball, and tribute cups. The rest of the items are organized from 1945-1970 in three big binders, the span of his career as a player, coach, and manager. It may very well be the largest collection of his memorabilia in the world – if anyone cares. I still contend that he should be in Cooperstown, but that includes a long list of worthy candidates. He’s been in my heart since childhood but died of cancer at age 53.
My other collection is baseball cards, also mainly in binders. I did get a bit carried away with my Topps Now purchases of Shohei Ohtani cards. I’ve captured his U.S. career starting with his rookie debut with the Angels and leading up to the more recent Dodgers. He’s wowed us with his pitching and hitting, often compared to Babe Ruth. This year he’s on a quest for .400 and the triple crown, taking a break from pitching after surgery. I’ve amassed about 125 of his cards, captured at various stages of his young career. They are for sale and on display at a local Venice card shop, Blue Breaks, and have even been to Japan in search for a buyer.
I maintain binders full of Cubs and White Sox cards, that follow the careers of Kyle Schwarber, Javy Baez, Chris Sale, Joan Moncada, Luis Roberts, Elroy Jiminez, Ernie Banks, Ron Santo, and the 1959 American League Champion White Sox that began my interest in card collecting. I’m at the point in life now where I’m more in the mood to get rid of things rather than accumulate.
My wife has been under the weather and slept through most of yesterday. What a sad way to spend a Mother’s Day! She made a batch of vegetable soup a few days ago, so I won’t starve, nor will some of our neighbors. A lot of sharing goes on – tools, food, advice, and rumors. The dogs did not get to go to the park yesterday or this morning, so they wonder what’s going on. “Why won’t Mom get up and play with us?” I’m planning on a typical Monday afternoon with a trip to the chiropractor, a call to my sister, the gym, pick up my grandson, and exercise in the pool. She’s still in bed.
We originally had Mother’s Day plans to go to Cracker Barrel, but that didn’t happen. We did, however, enjoy the band, Dukes of Brinkley, with friends on Saturday night at the ballpark. Unfortunately, we southerners were left out of all the Northern Lights hoopla. Like everyone else, we’ve been chasing them for years but have not been in the right place at the right time, even on our cruise to Alaska. I would guess that it’s not as big of a deal to see them from your backyard as opposed to spending thousands to go to Iceland.
The Pacers trounced the Knicks yesterday to even the playoff series. I watched the end of the game from the pool, between dog outings. The little one, Fosse, needs to go out every two hours, so this often means disruption from other activities – like running home and back in the middle of the band set the other night. With regard to small humans, we’re expecting a call from Indy mid-week announcing the birth of our newest relative – making me a GUM (Great Uncle Mike) once again.
My wife teaches school tomorrow, if she’s feeling better. There is also Book Club, and it’s my youngest granddaughter’s 6th birthday with a party on Saturday. We helped fund the bounce house. Twice this week I’ll have cardio rehab, in addition to the gym and pool workouts. There’s a Garden Party on Wednesday eve near our tiny plot in the neighborhood “farm.” Little Fosse goes to the vet for the first time on Thursday, accompanied by her big sister Tally, while I pay a visit to the optometrist. We might then go to the Dueling Pianos performance at nearby Wellen Park. Friday Night will be “Date Night,” last week we went to La Rocca for Italian. So ends another week of retirement without me being rich or famous.
My neighbor down the street owns a black, 2011 Mazda Miata Grand Touring MX-5, 6-on-the-floor, that he bought used in 2015 with only 6,000 miles on it and jokingly “drives only on Sundays.” It does require a lot of shuffling to get it out of his garage. He’s taken me along on some what he calls, “Miata runs,” where we drive the back roads to a dining destination. He’s done some quick accelerating along the way to satisfy any racing fantasies, since it will probably be the closest that he will ever get to a Ferrari and his F1 dream!
He joined the Miata auto club, attends the monthly meetings, and often takes part in some of their road rallies like Sebring in January 2023 and Revs Institute just yesterday. Since his wife is not necessarily a fan of riding in the car, he usually invites a neighbor like me to be his navigator. My wife thinks it’s hilarious when he selects me, since she’s convinced that I have absolutely no sense of direction. At 6a we were on the road to Revs, billed as “more than just a car museum.” It’s the permanent home of the Miles Collier Collections of over one hundred significant automobiles built between 1896 and 1995, as well as a library, teaching, and restoration facility located in Naples, Florida.
The club met at Cracker Barrel in Fort Myers, where we formed a “parade” line, drove the 45 miles to Revs as a group, toured the museum, and had lunch at nearby Spanky’s Speakeasy. During the course of the day, his odometer passed 26,000 miles, so he gave the dashboard of his Miata a loving pat. It’s a fondness for cars that I’ve never found.
He told me that one of these days, he will organize one of these club drives, as we all enjoyed the day and the common interest in the Mazda Miata. There were about 16 cars of various years, options, and colors all lined up in the Revs parking lot while we took the tour. One of my favorites was a purplish-blue, Dupont 1929 Du Pont Model G Four Passenger Speedster, with a 140 hp, eight-cylinder Continental engine. It sported a glass, eagle’s beak, hood-ornament, known as a mascot. There’s also an impressive collection of these on display.
His interest is primarily horsepower but was also intrigued with one of the least appealing autos on display, a 1989 Trabant Type P601L with a twin-cylinder, two-stroke,594 cc, 26 bhp engine. “The ‘Trabi’ might have been crude, ugly, slow, and smoky but to the car-starved East Germans, it represented motoring heaven.” The body was constructed with “Duraplast,” a plastic composite rather than hard-to-get steel and eventually became an environmental nightmare. Despite the very long waiting list, the car was also very popular in Hungary, his native country.
I would join the club, but that would require buying a Miata. It probably doesn’t count that I ordered my 14-year-old granddaughter a 1/32 scale version of a pink model of the car for her upcoming birthday. She joined us at Cracker Barrel, wanted to see all the cars, and showed me a picture of this particular Mary- Kay-like design with retractable headlights. For once, I’ve found a common interest with her.
A few days ago, I was feeling sorry for myself. I kept making typing errors because my hands were shaking of tremors. My bladder hadn’t slept well, so I got up one too many times. Bills were piling up and all I had to look forward to were co-pays for rehab, chiropractors, and cardiologists, who passed off my concerns to neurologists, urologists, and physical therapists. I think you get the “gist!” I had cramps in my leg, didn’t feel well, the room would spin, and the two dogs needed to go out again. I felt inactive, overweight, tired, and depressed. Even TV series, movies, and books were unappealing and too much effort. However, don’t worry, my wife talked me down from the ledge.
While I was in this funk, I came up with new labels for the days of the week that often all felt like “blah!” We already had “Salad Sundays,” Meatless Monday,” “Hump Day,” “Fry Day,” and “Trash Day,” to help keep track of slippery time as it all to quickly passes in retirement. It’s been seven years since I’ve worked and all of my bosses and most of my close co-workers are retired or dead. Running every day is no longer part of my life. I would like to find something constructive to do with my time, but I’m still not sure what that would be, given my lack of references, limited transportation, and current health issues. Extensive travel has helped keep my mind occupied, but we’re running out of places to go. Plus, every time we end up at a fancy resort, it’s really not that much different than being at home, surrounded by the same amenities.
I’m fortunate to have a loving family, great friends, cute pets, and warm-hearted neighbors. We have a beautiful home in a beach community, and only one car to worry about these days. Most of our driving is by golf cart. The yard work and landscaping are taken care of by the HOA, but I still have to change a light bulb on occasion. All I have to do is pay the bills, hoping that our Social Security checks and pension payments arrive on time.
Unlike the other men in our neighborhood, I’m not handy and don’t even wash my own car. They seem content with making home improvements, changing the oil, rotating the tires, and helping others do the same. They golf, play pickle ball, tennis, or bridge, while I don’t even enjoy watching. Sadly, my wife is convinced that I do such a poor job when it comes to housework, so I’m not asked to do it! The problem is that I have no active hobbies other than writing. Baseball card and coin collecting has become unrewarding and often too expensive on a fixed income. I seem to be more into getting rid of stuff than accumulating more, wishing my wife felt the same.
I’m content but bored, trying to work my body back to normal, and restricted from most of the activities that I don’t do anyways. Monitoring my blood pressure is about as fun as it gets. As a result, I’ve come up with “Meaningless Mondays,” “Trite Tuesdays,” “Worthless Wednesday,” “Trivial Thursdays,” “Fruitless Fridays,” “Slothful Saturdays,” and “Sedate Sundays,” all making for another “Blah!” week. By the way, I’m only half-kidding so please don’t call 9-1-1.
In the lazy world of retirement, this is the start of a “busy” week. I picked up my son and his wife from their Virginia weeding trip at the airport late on Sunday night, following an afternoon performance by a Venice Symphony trio, and had a nice visit with my sister yesterday. Hopefully, she’ll become a new reader of this blog, primarily interested in my Storyworth category of posts. She drove down from Leesburg Florida, her winter home, and my son treated us for lunch at Chili’s. We exchanged some family heirlooms, our grandfather’s photography photo for my grandmother’s painting of circus clown, Emmett Kelly. (See Post #2438) and (Post #1778). Emmett and his character “Weary Willie” have come home, at least on canvas, to Sarasota/Venice, FL where he performed.
Our new puppy, Fosse, seemed happy to meet her while my wife was substitute teaching. We all then got together in late afternoon for some additional conversation, promising to visit each other next year. I try to check-in on her every Monday, like a good brother, but she made the more personal effort this time.
Today I have active cardio rehab for the first time, outside of the initial paperwork sessions. I’ll come home for lunch and then head to the cardiologist. We hope to get to the bottom of what is causing Charlie Horses in my thigh, blood pressure swings, dizziness, and loss of balance. My GP has already ruled out the inner ear through an MRI, so I’m expecting an Ultrasound examination and a review of my medications. It’s all critical follow-up from open heart surgery sixteen weeks ago.
Afterwards, I may treat myself at the baseball card shop. I have some new Shohei Ohtani baseball cards to add to a collection of over 200 that they are selling for me. Plus, I want to check on the value of some Connor Bedard, Chicago Blackhawk, hockey cards that I would like to trade-in. I’ve promised myself to sell more than buy this year, but I still enjoy opening a fresh pack in treasure-hunt fashion.
I’ve stayed true to my daily swimming pool workout since walking has become a painful chore. It entails about forty-five minutes of jogging in place, stretching, marching, and step-ups. It’s the best I can do to burn off some calories, since the water resistance seems to put less pressure on my sore thigh. Visits to the chiropractor are part of my schedule this week, along with “Date Night,” a Mazda Miata rally, Bank of America appointment, and an evening with the band Dukes of Brinkley.
Would you still remember me?
For I must be traveling on now
‘Cause there’s too many places I’ve got to see
But, if I stay here with you, girl
Things just couldn’t be the same
‘Cause, I’m as free as a bird now
And this bird you cannot change, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
And the bird you cannot change
And this bird you cannot change
Lord knows I can’t change
Bye-bye, baby, it’s been a sweet love, yeah, yeah
Though this feeling I can’t change
But, please, don’t take it so badly
‘Cause Lord knows I’m to blame
But, if I stay here with you, girl
Things just couldn’t be the same
‘Cause, I’m as free as a bird now
And this bird you’ll never change, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
And the bird you cannot change
And this bird you cannot change
Lord knows I can’t change
Lord, help me, I can’t cha-a-a-ange
Lord, I can’t change
Won’t you fly h-i-i-igh, free bird, yeah
It’s now been fifteen full weeks since I left the operating table. I’m not recovering as fast as expected, mainly because I’m having trouble walking. I was supposed to start cardio rehab a week ago but had some flu symptoms while my left leg continues to have cramps and painful Charlie Horses. I did manage to get in 48.9 miles of walking in April but in the last half of the month, I could barely make a half-mile without going gimpy. The only exercise I’ve been able to manage are some quick dog outings, and about 40 minutes in the pool each day doing some high stepping, stair climbing, stretching, walking, and peddling. I can feel the resistance from the water and get tired, but it’s hardly the running that I’m used to doing every day.
Weight control has become an issue, with too many sweets and not enough calories burned. It all started on the cruise with overeating and excessive drinking, but at least I was able to wander the hallways and decks for a couple miles each day. I haven’t been able to lose the weight I’ve gained. This week I did do the preliminary paperwork and assessment for rehab, starting officially next week with two-a-week workouts.
I’m sitting in my office while writing this, monitoring the Pacers vs. Bucks playoff game. There are several of my Indy friends in attendance. It’s fun to watch the new Pacers, without much success since the Reggie Miller years. It’s also great to follow former Portland Trailblazer, Damian Lillard, even though he’s now the opposition. He’s injured and missed a couple of games recently, but always a threat. I hope this game doesn’t come down to “Dame Time,” because I’ll have mixed feelings, having lived in both Indy and more recently Portland. I’m not much of an Orlando Magic fan, although now a full-time Florida resident. I’ve always been taught to follow and support the home team!
I’ve had a busy social week, much to the chagrin of my wife. Apparently, I’m not spending enough time with her or helping enough around the house. We were together for a full month on the cruise and Spain extension, but rarely alone. The new puppy has added additional responsibilities for both of us, and she is working as a substitute teacher. I agree that I have been negligent but needed to catch up with the boys this week. She feels left out after a dinner and two lunches with two close male neighbors this week. I also disrupted her plans for next Saturday, with a Miata run to Ft. Wayne that she claims I never told her about. She reemphasized that “weekends are for us not your boyfriends.”
It makes me seem a bit “gay,” but I do love her, and no man has ever turned my head. I just needed a few beers and some male companionship. It will likely be months before I go out again, since most of them leave for the summer. The one neighbor (frat brother) that I had dinner with last Saturday at Salty Dog, ended up in the hospital the next day and had his appendix removed. He’s now reluctant to have more beers with me! At our age, you can’t always plan ahead.
Next week is filled with rehabilitation. Monday, I go to the chiropractor, as he continues to work with my leg and spine issues. Tuesday, I’m with the cardiologist, trying to get to the bottom of my dizziness, balance, and medication concerns and later in cardio rehab. Thursday is more rehab, and hopefully additional time in the pool. My wife has tap and aqua-fit, as well as some teaching days, throughout the week. We hope to get together as a couple for upcoming Wellen Park and Cool Today Park events, as I attempt to heal her disappointment with me. May the Fourth be with you, Cinco de Maya, and Easter keep you active and engaged. I’m just hoping to get out of the Dog House. Pacers win!
Fosse is starting to socialize with other dogs at our neighborhood park. She is a born and bred schnauzer who has not been around other breeds. Some may teasingly call her a “racist,” as she reacts very violently to non-schnauzers and dogs of a different color, with barking and even a high-pitched scream like she’s being attacked. She has yet to be spayed or had rabies shots, so we’re a little premature in taking her to the dog park. However, we know most of the other people that go there, and my wife watches her like a hawk.
Little Fosse was exhausted after her visit yesterday and slept a little later this morning. Too often, she gets overly excited when we rescue her from the cage and can’t make it outside. Carrying her seems to be the solution, but Tally, her fourteen-year-old sister, also needs to go first thing in the morning. It can be quite a challenge getting the two of them on the same page. Fosse also is aggressive with her food and attacks the bowl, sending kibbles flying in every direction. We now delay her breakfast until after she goes to the dog park and begins to settle down. We also separate them when it’s time to eat.
We just borrowed a portable, soft, cage that will be less confining than the metal one she’s been stuck in all night. The top zips open to make it more like a playpen. Slowly but surely, we’ll get Fosse accustomed to sleeping in it and comfortably confined with her toys while we’re gone for a few hours. She’s teething and this can prove to be destructive, having already chewed on the woodwork.
Fosse likes to join me poolside and enjoys laying in the sun. Unlike Tally who spends a few minutes out in the lanai before retreating to my chair in the air conditioning, she’s content to lay on the warm pavers, occasionally moving to the shaded throw rugs. She’ll stay outside for hours if we let her, and sometimes one or the other gets trapped outdoors when we close the sliders.
My wife is more patient with the pair than I am. She takes each to the dog park separately, while I’m home at the desk. Fosse is also getting to ride on the golf cart with her special harness. Tally has been doing this for over a year, but they’ve yet to share the front seat. Once Fosse has been to the vet, we’ll try them at the same time. Fosse’s cousin Sophie is also often at the park, both came from litters sired by the same father at what we fondly call, “Schnauzerville.” We have taken Tally there for years to be groomed and boarded. This is where my wife first met Fosse, just after birth. She has a tiny patch of white on her all-black body. Tally has always loved puppies, so hopefully they will continue to get along in the same household, and Fosse will provide the much-needed spark of life in her older daily companion.
