For the first time, our schnauzer puppy Fosse didn’t whimper or scream when my wife went to work this morning. She was quiet and came to sit on my lap, with some coaxing, hopeful that I would take her to the dog park. Tally, her older sister, went back to bed. What has traditionally been Tally’s role of taking over my office chair, has now become Fosse’s. I’m third in line for my own chair. Taking them out this morning was again very painful, but my leg is starting to loosen up as I sit here writing. By late morning, I’ll be out in the yard tending to some plants and then off to the fitness center. The pain will return on occasion but will not be a debilitating factor until just before bedtime.
I was hoping that last evening’s walk might help, so we put Tally in the stroller and did about a mile-and-a-half. Admittedly, I slept better but the sciatica flared-up with vengeance this morning. Between the dog park, chair yoga, and the stationary bike yesterday, I didn’t have time for a walk on the treadmill, but spent some time in the pool later. I’m trying different routines and stretching exercises to relieve my discomfort. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern with the pain, as last night there was discomfort in my calf muscle.
As I look back over some of my previous posts, this leg issue has come on gradually. On our cruise and in the weeks before, two months after surgery, it first appeared as cramps in my thigh and calf. It was not until two months ago that it got really painful, especially in the morning. It’s not like a sleep for eight hours without any movement. I’m usually up every two-hours and headed to the bathroom. Sometimes it’s bothersome at that time of night and sometimes not, making the whole thing very confusing and frustrating. It aches when I get back to bed, and I try some massage, tracing a tender path from my pelvis down the side of my left leg into my calf. This seems to be where the irritation comes from, but there’s also the soreness in my lower back. My entire leg is either sore or stiff, depending on the time of day.
As I write this, I continue to search for a reason why this is happening and what to do about it. Hopefully, the MRI in 2-weeks will reveal some answers. I’ve tried heat and ice applications, stretching, yoga, sitting on firmer surfaces, lying on my back in bed, exercise, and rest. The bottom line seems to be that I just have to keep moving!
Push-ups were once my go-to exercise, easily able to knock-off a hundred at a time. However, I haven’t tried to do one since my open-heart surgery seven months ago. Years ago, it would have gotten me through basic training if that had been part of my life. Give me 25, soldier! No problem, Sir, would have been my reply. “Can I do another?” It certainly got me through fraternity “Hell Week,” never hesitating to show off my strength. For the 15 consecutive years that I ran, I also did 100 push-ups every single morning.
I’ve been going to the gym for months now, working out with some light weights on my arms and shoulders. There’s no longer the cautious feeling that my rib cage will crack again after it had been sawed in half. I was concerned about putting too much weight on my chest since my bones and cartilage still seemed to crackle and pop a bit. Lately, I’ve felt whole again, bumping up the weight on my overhead lifts. Slowly but surely, I’ll get my upper body strength back.
This afternoon I finally decided to try a push-up. I was already on the floor using my forearms to stretch some back muscles. I friend of mine who’s a physical therapist suggested that I lay like that for a few minutes to help relieve my sciatica. While I was down there, I extended my arms into the familiar push-up position. Sadly, I was only able to do three, but maybe four tomorrow. It gives me a measure of how far I’ve regressed in that department. I’ll probably also be sore tomorrow, but it’s a beginning. I wonder if I’ll ever get back to doing a hundred every morning like elderly Mr. Kaufman of Englewood, Florida (about my age now) showed me in my teens. He inspired a lifetime of doing simple push-ups that suddenly aren’t so simple anymore.
I finally realized that I could buy a brand-new printer for less than the cost of replacing the ink cartridges in the old one. I probably should have done this a year ago, but I couldn’t believe this was possible. Plus, the new printer fits in my custom cabinets, whereas the old printer was too big. Win…win. I was naturally expecting a set-up hassles, but that too went smoothly, and I got three months of free ink and paper delivered to my door. Technology can be wonderful.
I’ve had a couple of glitches when printing over the past few days, but these were strictly operator error. Old guy…new printer. I really don’t do that much printing anymore since we no longer distribute color flyers for neighborhood parties to all 80 homes. Instead, we bought a sandwich-board sign that sits at the entrance to the street. Over the past few days, I’ve printed a photo and my Arby’s gift certificate that I got for my birthday. Jamocha shakes are my favorite. My wife also needed certification certificates printed for her substitute work at school. This is what started the whole need for color ink and inspired me to buy this printer.
It’s amazing how excited you can get these retirement days over simply buying something new.
We resist having to replace things but sometimes this can save money and frustration in the long run. Often times with the old printer, the wireless function wouldn’t work, and I would have to install a cable directly to the computer to get the desired output. This hassle has been eliminated at a savings.
Sciatica is probably my biggest hassle these days. It continues to flare-up, especially in the morning and evening. However, in the course of my birthday conversations yesterday, I found several friends that have much greater sufferings. I’m fortunate that my heart surgery was a planned procedure rather than an emergency and that my hand tremors are not Parkinson’s related. My old-age ills are minimal and any complaints unjustified. After all, I have a new printer!
I’m celebrating a 73rd birthday today, low key, and I wish I could say that I felt like a teenager. I do, only when I’m sitting down like this. The sciatica villain took it easy on my leg this morning, so I didn’t have to hobble my way into the chair. It seems to be just a matter of sitting on a firmer chair in the evening, not the couch, and not sleeping on my left side. We’ll have Big Mike’s Pizza tonight and watch some more episodes of Reacher, no parties or exotic excursions this year. We did just get back from a 4,000-mile road trip that took me to my 50th state, Maine.
My wife is substituting today, so dog duty falls to me. I’ll load Tally and Fosse into the golf cart, take them a few blocks to the park, and let them romp with their friends for a half-hour or more. Then, I’ll go to my weekly chair yoga class and work out at the fitness center. I also have a couple landscaping projects to do this afternoon, so a dip in the pool will be necessary to get the grime off. I’m also expecting a couple birthday calls and might not have time for a nap.
I’m home, here in Venice, until probably February when we go to the Keys for a few days. We’ll take the high-speed ferry out of Ft. Myers. My wife seems content with doing a solo flight out to Oakland to visit her daughter, and hosting some of her high school classmates for a week in March. While they take over the house, I will have to take refuge at my son’s house. Nothing else is yet planned, although there’s talk of doing another long drive up through Wisconsin and into the Dakotas to complete her fifty-state quest. The rest of the unexplored world is on hold.
For me, it’s just another birthday, something I’ve taken for granted every year. However, here’s to all of those I’ve known in life that weren’t as fortunate to live as long as me. I see you in my dreams and hope there is yet a future together. It’s been a remarkable 73-years, but I won’t wish for 73 more.
A neighbor of mine who is still recovering from hip surgery exclaimed: “I think we need to be walking on all fours after age 70.” I certainly felt that way this morning as I struggled to take the dogs out this morning. I had an ice bag on my thigh while leaning on my “rain cane,” and ultimately crawling back in the front door. The dogs felt I was one of their own but could tell I was in miserable pain. It wasn’t seventy that got me – it was seventy-two.
It was such a relief to plop breathlessly in my office chair, once they had their treats, of course. My wife will soon awake and take them to the dog park. There was no one around to witness my painfully pitiful efforts and soon I will be at the fitness center like nothing happened. The sciatica pain and stiffness comes and goes throughout the day. Tomorrow, I go to the doctor again with another plea for an MRI. I had a record five medical appointments last week and took our puppy to the vet, just so I could wait in another waiting room. These visits were not just about the sciatica and included a neurologist, urologist, and cardiologist. Too many “ists”!
Last night was date night and we went to Barb & Ken’s in nearby Englewood. I had meat loaf, an appropriate dish for the way I feel. I’m trying to work off some weight dealing with limited mobility, so we at least stayed away from dessert. The stationary bike, rowing machine, and treadmill do not burn off the calories for me like running used to do. Running took about 45-minutes while I spend about 75-minutes at the gym with little impact on my waistline. Post-surgery inactivity and our 20-day excursion of breaded tenderloins, wings, lobster, and pizza put about twelve extra pounds on my frame. As a result, shirts are a little tight and flab a bit excessive.
I’ll finish this blog post and head to the exercise room. The Hungarian Grand Prix will be on the TV near the stationary bike, so between that and a game of solitaire on the digital screen, the time will pass quicker than the calories. I’ll also probably spend some time in our pool today. The cool water feels good on my sore back and a good tan makes me look better than I feel. I’ll monitor my blood pressure, as instructed by the doctor, for additional entertainment. Little else is planned for this lazy Sunday.
While my better half went shopping in charming downtown Ogunquit, Maine, I hit the Marginal Way Trail, a mile and a quarter scenic coastline path. It was suggested by an acquaintance that lives here. My wife then met me for lunch at Splash Food & Spirits on the rainy beach. According to the GPS, a four-hour drive would take us to White Plains, NY and the home of friends we met while living in Decatur, Illinois. It turned out to be nearly six with heavy traffic and rainy conditions. We’ve visited them before, unlike our other stops on this trip spent with neighbors met in our current Islandwalk neighborhood.
We eventually arrived in White Plains, just in time for happy hour. After getting out of the car, my left leg was incredibly stiff and sore with lots of stairs to negotiate. Dinner was across the street at Via Garibaldi, and bedtime couldn’t have come sooner. In the morning, I limped my way down the street until the muscles finally relaxed and took the pressure off my sciatica. The girls went into the city by train for a tour of the Morgan Library. The guys had lox and bagels at the White Plains Deli and took a drive out to the Hudson River Marina in preparation for the next day’s boat ride. Once we navigated our way by train and walked to the Bryant Park area, dinner was at L’Adresse before the Water for Elephants performance on the Imperial stage. Uncomfortable in the seats, I thought the show would never and the slow train back to White Plains didn’t get us home until 1a, 3-hours past my bedtime.
Our last day in New York featured boating on the Hudson with fried chicken and Fresca, a “dining” tradition with these White Plains friends who treated us to many boating adventures back in Decatur. Maris, their dog, went with us. I finally got a black & white cookie, as we anchored near West Point. What a beautiful day on the water that ended with a fabulous sunset. We elected to stay an extra night and drive into New Jersey the next afternoon with clean laundry thanks to their Broadlawn Co-op amenities.
It all started with a busy morning of making last minute preparations for the drive to Maine and back. We dropped the dogs off at Schnauzerville, picked up the Nissan Rogue rental SUV, and packed for 19-days on the road. Our first leg was essentially a straight shot up I-75 to Atlanta. My wife’s niece was home for the 2024 Olympics after years of coordinating all the torch runs, so we were able to stay with her for the night and watch the events on TV.
It was the first road trip when I didn’t even bother to pack my running gear, replaced with a cold pack and heating pad. Hopefully, I can do some walking and gym visits along the way while still battling a sciatica issue in my left leg. I took along three last days of steroid medication, but beyond that was expecting pain and frustration. Lunch was at Freddy’s in Ocala, before I took over the wheel, just another pound added to my already overworked, under-exercised and growing frame. Fortunately, traffic was not an issue even in the typical rough construction spots like Sarasota and Tampa. I was pleased with the rental upgrade, offering plenty of room for hanging clothes and survival supplies like water and Diet Coke. A chocolate shake was my Freddy’s splurge on top of the cheeseburger and fries. My wife’s app got her a free burger.
Our first Georgia stop was a rest area, followed by a brisket sandwich at Buc-ee’s – no road trip is complete anymore without a stop to visit “The Beaver.” That put us just a little over an hour from our overnight stop for manicotti, Buc-ee nuggets, and the Olympics. Vodka, wine, ice cream, and Limoncello made for a restless night’s sleep with an upset tummy. I got up for a walk before we made our way to the next Buc-ee’s for breakfast kolaches.
I’ve just taken my last steroid tablet with mixed results regarding its purpose in relieving my leg pain. There have been moments when I’ve felt like I could conquer the world, followed by cramps and discomfort in my calf muscle. I feel like I’m making progress one hour, followed by despair the next. I will soon have a follow-up with the prescribing physician to determine the next steps. The big question remains: Will there be anger in the withdrawal stages – ‘Roid Rage?
I honestly don’t feel very well – a bit light-headed and achy, but unrelated to my visit to the Urologist yesterday, other than it just added to my seemingly endless medical woes. I’m now trying the drug Finasteride to relieve an enlarged prostrate with the side benefit of keeping my hair from falling out. Fortunately, that’s one problem I’ve never had, but certainly my bladder issues need help, substituting one pill for another.
When we return from travel, I will need an MRI for my continuing sciatica problems, alongside back-to-back appointments with the cardiologist, urologist, optician, chiropractor, and neurologist. What more could possibly go wrong? It’s been a heart-stoppin’, pill-poppin’, leg-hoppin’, eye-droppin’ medical rollercoaster that I would like to get off. Tylenol, vitamins, baby Aspirin, statins, blood pressure, steroid, prostrate, heartburn, and allergy pill bottles now fill my medicine cabinet. Routine blood pressure checks and three kinds of eye drops keep me busy. At least, I’m not on anti-depressants, even though my entertainment dollars are spent on co-pays. Sadly, too many of us old farts can relate to this retirement regimen!
I still find time to go to the gym, but even that is less satisfying than running used to be. Chair Yoga is only once a week and walking still limited to the treadmill. I ride the bike, but don’t go anywhere. There are fifteen bags of mulch to put down, but I can’t seem to find the strength or energy. I’ve fallen but can’t get up – even sit-ups and push-ups are no longer a habit. I’d be sorry for myself, but too many of my peers are in worst shape. However, I feel every bit like the father of a fifty-year-old! Will ‘Roid Rage be next?
I won’t be eligible for this year’s Olympics again, this time due to steroid use. I doubt that I could hit 70-home runs or break a world record in the 100-meter dash, but I sure feel better. Finally, after months of chiropractic treatment, trying to relieve a pinched sciatica nerve near my spine, I can move again. The doctor hooked me up with an accident injury specialist who prescribed a week’s worth of Methylprednisolone tablets. I’m half-way through the dosage and was able to walk comfortably, at a fast pace, last evening. Even my wife, who typically is two steps ahead, commented that I needed to slow down.
I’m still a bit stiff and sore in the morning, sitting on an ice bag as I write this. The pain my hip and leg are not debilitating like previous days. After warming up, I feel great – full of energy – full of steroids. I honestly hope that after the 7-day period, I’m not hooked and that it continues to heal naturally. I had a little trouble working with a doctor whose card reads, Florida Injury?” but the chiropractor, who I do trust, can’t prescribe drugs. I can now comfortably continue the rehab from my open-heart surgery, six months ago without pain.
I have been going to the gym every day, but I’m limited on what I can do. I initially thought that I would simply be replacing the daily runs with long walks. However, I would get cramps and Charlie Horses. Medication changes helped some. I next tried the pool to take the pressure off my back, along with the stationary bike, rowing machine, weight machines, and treadmill where I could hold on to the side rails. Last night, with the support aid of Tally’s dog stroller we walked Fosse. For the first time, I felt like I didn’t need to hold on tight.
My attitude and patience suddenly improved. I spent the day sorting baseball cards and could actually bend over and lift the heavy binders without pain. The question remains: Is it actually healing or just numb from the steroids? Will I be back to normal once the drugs wear off? Or, will I seek the dark back alleys in search of a steroid dealer?
I am a self-proclaimed Medical Marvel, having earned this distinction after undergoing both heart and cataract surgery, plus being treated for sciatica by my chiropractor, all within the last six-months. What else can go wrong? Combine that with my damaged vocal cords and hearing loss and I have the makings of a Buddhist proverb: Hear no Evil, speak no Evil, see no Evil. Yet, evil is all around us, just watch the news. Chaos, murder, theft, rape, fraud and so on…..I’m lucky to be alive, but I don’t necessarily like the world in which I live. At least, it hasn’t hit close to home.
Even though I’m a pessimist, I do try to see things from a humorous perspective. It’s not always easy when I’m plagued with aches and pains. Just ask my wife, who I “barked” at first thing this morning out of frustration. Plus, the large dark sunglasses that I’m wearing take the brightness out of the day. They are so big on my face that they make me look like a giant fly, something out of a Marvel comic or film – Super Fly, Medical Marvel!
I did another long walk last night with the support of the dog buggy after staying away from the gym after yesterday’s eye surgery for the first time since our Portland trip, weeks ago. As my vision continues to improve, it’s now just a matter of applying numerous drops during the course of the day. I slept last night with the eye shield, but other than that, there’s been little discomfort. I’m currently waiting for another repairman to take a look at our refrigerator. It seems to be a compressor issue that thankfully is covered under the warranty. Warranties have been a savior with our new home, although it’s discouraging to see new things break down after just a few years – not like the old days when appliances lasted forever. This is the second time we’ve had work done on our Kitchen Aid fridge. Similarly, air conditioning continues to be another worry in this hot Florida conditions that are hard on skin, cars, roofs, pavers, lawns, landscaping, and appliances, not to mention budgets. All these worries keep my blood pressure up.
We’re headed to dinner, and probably drinks, with our Indy friends tonight, while they vacation in the area over the next couple weeks. We’ll also see them soon on our drive through Indianapolis on the way to New York and Maine. We have reservations at a new restaurant at the Sunseeker Resort in Punta Gorda, about an hour or so away. Although I will need them for the glare on the drive down, I’ll leave my Super Fly glasses in the car while we reunite.
