Over-Walked&Tired-Out!

This is what I get for having my heart reamed out last November, then undertaking an extensive and meticulously careful Cardio-Rehabilitation program. These professional medical-types: they approach their work with a combination of caring and competence: as if a little edgy exercise comes with the grim likelihood of another coronary "incident"-- and maybe a negligence law-suit lurking ominously in the background. Over the passing weeks and months, I've come to the solid conclusion they know what they're doing. Just as important, could be they like us, their slightly bumbling clients.

I never shoulda told 'em about my recent difficulty that landed me in Henry Ford Hospital down west of Detroit.

But I did. So this Wednesday and Thursday I got way too much attention. Took my blood-pressure so many times -- on alternating arms -- that my fingers finally got numb. Never mind the readings stayed well within my established range for my treadmill and AirDyne half-hour programs. I even did well on the Upper-Body-Exerciser (which is a heart-breaker by any measure).

I always begin and end my sessions with some yoga and related stretches. To my surprise, today's forty-five minute session wore me out completely. In fact, they hadda take my blood-pressure TWICE. Wouldn't let me move until it finally came down to like 130-over-60. Karen acted like she didn't hear me when I asked the first reading. That sorta earnest quietness makes a guy think. And feel a little uneasy.

And what I thought and felt was how much these people know, how much they care. They're young: in the prime of life, intelligent, well-trained, and gently caring. We're prob'ly their parent's age. So they treat us with a caring fondness. They don't have-ta care about us. Still, it's clear that they DO. Caring about people is who they are. That much I read in their behavior.

This morning was the first day back for Karen, an especially lovely person, fetching and attractive -- the sort of person who always greets us with a warm smile, as if she's waited all week to see us again. I missed Monday this week because I was out of town -- and at Henry Ford Hospital, though that wasn't a part of my intended mission. And yesterday was her day off.

Her mother had died, after a long illness the weekend since I last saw her. So I had written her a nice letter, expressing sympathy, noting that I had recently lost my own mother ten years ago. I wanted Karen to know I had some small insight into what she might be feeling. As I entered the lab, I simply handed her the card and letter, then went about my exercise program. So I hadn't realized she had read my letter until we were removing and cleaning-up our monitors at the end of our session.

Karen approached me, and warmly thanked me; gave me a really big hug. Made us both kinda tear up. Believe me: I never woulda made it as a lumber-jack or a brick-layer or a cop! And certainly not as a physician. On the one hand, I could not KNOW enough. On the other hand, I would certainly FEEL too much. I'd always get emotionally involved with the trees, the buildings, the victims of crimes. It's all right to do something well. It may be too exhausting to care all that much.

For instance: I loved everything about teaching. . .except the evaluation portion. Grading people's work is a tricky business. "VeryGOOD! C-plus!" is the standard joke among teachers. I always liked to provide sensible evaluative criteria, to teach the students to judge the value of their own work. Isn't THAT the major gift a teacher can give a student? "Know how to judge your own work. Work hard. Do the best you can possibly do." Teach that. And make your own presence progressively less necessary. Teach yourself out of a job, as we use-ta say.

So I maybe care too much about learners these days. But I can't help it. I no longer teach. . .which leaves me with too few people to care about and do stuff for. So when people do things for me, I nearly always feel touched. Or maybe the more correct word is "teched," because these days, being around people who are nice to me both touches me and drives me nuts.

What makes me borderline crazy is when people are purposefully generous to me, and I have no way to help them in return. I mean: thanking people who are committed to helping you -- every time you're with them -- must soon come to sound habitual and empty.

That's why writing Karen that letter mattered to me. It was the ONE THING I was finally able to DO that might be helpful to her!

Today's been a good day so far. ReHab went well this morning. Then I came home, changed into warm exercise gear, and walked the roads for nearly two hours. The weather was the best so far this spring: 60 degrees, warm breeze, greening fields and lawns. People out and about.

So I'm a little over-walked and tired out.
But I somehow feel brand new!