Category Archives: Health

I’m not as dexterous at 68 as I was at 18 (not news, not a surprise) and when I’m getting out of my Functional Strength Training session and just trying to walk and breathe at the same time (my trainer made me HURT today, which I guess is what I pay him for…), my fingers can get a bit more fumbly than usual.

Given the time stamp, I believe this is the back of the driver’s seat in the Volvo C70. Given the size and dimensions, I think it might have been taken with my watch, not my phone. (Can the Apple Watch take pictures? Maybe it just triggered the iPhone to take a picture?) Given everything, I would have been trying to stop the Workout app on my phone, but God alone knows what button or icon or combination I hit.

The good news is that I now have a suggestion for a new Olympic event, sort of an Ultra Modern Pentathalon! Combine a half hour of shoulder work, a half hour of leg work, fifteen minutes of push ups, a 5K race, finishing with solving a Rubic’s Cube. Strength, endurance, and dexterity when you’re ready to drop. What’s not to love?

First of all, I’m fine!

In an effort to aggressively battle the calendar and entropy, about six weeks ago I started using the services of a personal trainer once a week. He’s great and does a wonderful job of leaving me feeling like I’ve been beaten like a rented mule, ridden hard, and put away wet. I usually feel sore as hell for a couple of days after our weekly sessions. This is a good thing.

But I figured I probably needed more than one session a week.

So using what I’m learning from him, I’ve re-joined the local gym so that I can use all of their equipment a couple of more days a week. Today was the first time I had gone in.

After 20 minutes on the bike, a whole slew of weight machines, 10 minutes on the rowing machine, more weight machines, I was “winding down” with 30 minutes on the treadmill. I’ve used treadmills at the gym for decades, it’s not rocket surgery.

Well, it shouldn’t be.

I don’t know what happened as I was finishing. I tried to step off to the side platform with my right foot but missed the step. Suddenly I was turning and going down.

Intro Psych 101 taught me that the two fundamental fears hardwired into the human brain are falling and loud noises. Getting off of the treadmill was a two-fer since I fell and made a loud noise.

A solid faceplant onto the treadmill belt, and then the funny parts started. There are plenty of hilarious videos out there, but they’re all accurate in one way. If you land on the treadmill belt while it’s still plugging along at 3+ miles an hour, it will deposit your pathetic ass out onto the floor behind the treadmill like a watermelon seed being squeezed out between your fingers. PAAAH-TOOOOEY!!!

My first reaction was to start laughing. It just seemed so hilarious that it really happened that way. Then all of the screaming started, and no, it wasn’t me.

A nice woman on the treadmill next to mine was hollering, asking if I was okay. I started to get up and told her I was fine. One of the trainers ran over to make sure I was okay, help me up, and make sure I wasn’t going to sue anyone. Then someone yelled about my leg and the blood.

There actually wasn’t any blood, just some belt rash and bruises. But it looks ugly.

After I stood up I could hear an alarm and realized it was my Apple Watch doing that “It Appears That You Have Fallen!!” warning screen. It’s counting down, defaulting to a call to 9-1-1, which was the last thing I would have needed at the moment. My embarrassment in front of the screaming lady on the next treadmill I could deal with. The scorn and disdain from a crew of LA County Paramedics (and the $500+ bill) as they check my blood pressure and vital signs over a road-rash-y knee? Even I have my limits.

Fortunately, it didn’t hurt at all. A little tender, but the skin abrasions seemed to be fine for about six hours. About dinner time all of those nerve endings came out of their coma and started screaming, so tonight might be “interesting” trying to sleep, but everything’s relative. It doesn’t hurt as bad as my jaw has for months after multiple cavities, three root canals, a “crown lengthening” (Google it at your own risk if squeamish), and three new crowns.

So yeah, I’m embarrassed, but that hasn’t slowed me down in the past and doesn’t seem likely to do so this time either. Just another reminder that I’m not 30 or 40 anymore. (Plus, I was a klutz at 30 and 40, so this won’t be the last time I end up doing something stupid and painful.)

The worst part is that the freaking Russian judge only gave me a 3.2. Apparently my degree of difficulty wasn’t that great, but I scored well on style points.

Nine days ago I had my second root canal of the last four weeks, and commented that, “I would have liked another photo with my mouth full of clamps and tubes and tools and drills and hoses and all of that nonsense, but they were busy.”

Today I had my third (and please, dear, sweet, Baby Jeezus, let it be the last) root canal of the last four weeks, and some odd stuff happened.

I not-so-miraculously hit every single traffic light as red for miles and miles (all the way from Fallbrook to Winnetka eastbound on Victory for those who know) on what is supposed to be a route with the lights synched. I saw another butt-ugly Cybertruck. (Is there any other kind?) I wound up following a huge pickup truck flying a huge flag for a certain Presidential candidate, making we pray for a can of lighter fluid or a flamethrower. (Why does the orange-colored dude have blue flags? Doesn’t that clash?)

The first two root canals took 40-45 minute and were more annoying and uncomfortable (once we got past the initial “numbing procedure” involving all of those nasty needles in places I don’t want needles) than anything else. Today’s dental session was just under two hours and there were some nightmare moments as the endodontist hit a live nerve several times, causing me to levitate out of the chair sort of like Sigourney Weaver in “Ghostbusters.” Actually, more like Linda Blair in “The Exorcist,” I’ll never be as stunningly gorgeous as Sigourney.

However, before that part of the experience, something came up and the endodontist had to step out for about ten minutes for some sort of emergency with a patient in a different office. When this happened, his assistant stayed with me to make sure that I was taken care of, but then she left as well.

Leaving me unsupervised. A tactical error on their part.

To answer the age old question, “YES! While 99.99% blind, in considerable discomfort, and with a fair amount of equipment and tubes and this thing in my mouth, I CAN figure out how to get my phone out of my pocket, unlock it, open the phone app, turn the camera around, and start taking selfies!” And no, it wasn’t until just this second that I considered what I would have done if I had dropped the phone when I couldn’t get up to retrieve it, thanks!

And for the record, the top edge of that blue plastic sheet that’s right under my nose? It spent most of the two hours TICKLING my nose and making me want to sneeze and cough and choke and convulse.

Do I know how to have a good time on a Thursday afternoon or what? (Still more fun than watching ANY of the RNC.)