It all ends up in the Grand River

No more red wine?

I had every intention of exercising today, Valentines Day.  It has been seven days since I was at the gym.  This so reminds me of my Catechism days at St. Joseph Catholic Church in Port Huron.  "Father, it has been seven days since my last gym visit.  Please forgive me for not exercising my body.  I know His body was given up for me and I can't even show a little respect and get my body on an elliptical trainer."  I haven't seen a confessional in All Saints Episcopal Church, the church that my family now attends, so I guess this blog will have to do.

There I feel a little bit better, but I'm guessing not as good as I would if I had actually went to the gym.


There was a moment when I was at Mitchell's Fish Market after finishing my second glass of Chardonnay but before ordering a slice of key lime pie, that I was feeling pretty motivated.  I was thinking to myself that as soon as lunch was over, I would go to the fruit market to stock up for the week and buy some roses - since the early Valentine tulips were fading fast and tomorrow is also Andria's birthday, come home and then head over to the gym. 

It was one big slice of key lime pie.  I still don't understand why the waiter brought two forks.  So, after lunch I was feeling pretty cozy, but still had my plan ready to execute.  In fact, the rest of the afternoon went accordingly until I came home and was greeted by a frantic Andria who was desperately trying to finish writing a presentation while keeping our overly excitable six month Chocolate Lab, Cassie, from her enthusiastic mock chewing of our children's extremities.  I got the sense that it wasn't the right time to leave again.  Now, I wasn't born with such an acute sense, it took, let's see - I've been together with Andria since 1982 and it is now 2010 - well, twenty-eight years of Navy SEAL like training to achieve what I like to call "complete spousal awareness."  My buddy's have a different term for this zen like heighten sense of support.  They just crack an air whip and make a kershwip sound as if I am supposed to know what that means.


I suspect what is really going on is that my hemoglobin slipped a bit to 10.3.  After ten years of trying to manage kidney disease I have become very aware of how I'm feeling based on what is happening with my body.  At first it was extremely frustrating when my body just wouldn't respond to what my mind was asking of it.  But after years of frustration I eventually came to understand that at times like this it is better to ride it out, own up to these biological shortcomings and float until they are corrected rather than to be angry.  In a fast pace world this was not very easy.  Though, my world slowed down without my permission.  I had no choice but to adjust.  And, it has been much better since I have.  However, blogging about not exercising wasn't the intent of Paddling on Dialysis for Kidney Health.  It is though, an honest portrayal of life with kidney disease.


For those of you who know me, you might have noticed I said Chardonnay rather than Shiraz or Cabernet Sauvignon.  Well the results of that endoscopy gracefully showed no cancer, but apparently I don't have my own esophagus.  Rather, I have Barrett's and that is unfortunate because he is not allowed to drink much coffee or wine, especially red wine.  Now I just received a wonderful Keurig one cup coffee maker for Christmas and joined the Green Mountain Espresso Club.  I have been having a delightful time brewing deliciously dark and bold fair trade coffees throughout each day and ending it with a class of healthful and warm Jacob's Creek Merlot or Shiraz or Cab.  And if writing is on schedule for the night, perhaps two - one for me and one for Ernest H's spirit.  Of course, I have been walking around with a frown from being anemic and having an upset stomach most of 2010.  So, perhaps there is something to Mr. Barrett's Esophagus.  Thank goodness lent is fast approaching, perhaps now is a good time to give up - mmmm, how about carbonated sodas - they are on the list too.


As if meeting Mr. Barrett wasn't enough.  After having a rather delicate discussion with my beautiful Nephrologist about a very sensitive area of mine, I now have to go meet Dr. Butt Surgeon next Wednesday. "Ya got trouble, my friend, right here, trouble I say, trouble right here in River City."  Were talking about the mouth of the river, my friend, the end of the line, the place I fear to be and that rhymes with P that stands for. . .


Now it doesn't matter that I have had two kidney transplant surgeries, and two failed kidney transplant removal surgeries.  I have had my chest cracked open to remove my thymus gland - that helped with the Mysthenia Gravis.  And, I have had multiple fistula surgeries and an emergency appendectomy.  Those were small potatoes compared to this new area of concern.  I absolutely do not look forward to hearing these three words, "Please bend over."  Unh, Unh.  I don't want to hear it, and I certainly don't want to do it.  But, I realize that if I'm continuing to loose blood that that is just not a sustainable thing.  So just like facing that colonoscopy head on er ass on, I will have to face my fears bend over, hold my ankles (well I can't quite get there yet) and . . .


I'm sure I will appreciate my bravery when I'm having to sit in a canoe for 225 miles.


With my pity party firmly behind me.  And, after Wednesday I'll let you know whatever else is behind me.  It is time to look forward to a week of great intents on getting to the gym.  It helps tremendously to hear from you.  The many words of encouragement that I get here and on our facebook page helps immensely.  Thank you.


Additionally, I am now collecting the names of volunteers who would like to paddle with me for a day during the Grand River Expedition.  While we will be canoeing with a number of individuals, Andria and I agreed that it would be great if I could have a companion to share the river with each day.  I see it as a great opportunity to spend a day with a friend on a meaningful and beautiful summer river boating excursion.  Please let me know if you can join me for a day during the last two weeks of July.


Also, we will be launching the fundraising aspect of this project. When I went to buy Antonia's corsage for the Daddy Daughter Dance last week I ran into a neighbor who remembered me from my early days of fundraising for the National Kidney Foundation of Michigan. She said, “didn't you have that picture of your children as frogs?” Here it is, a picture from the early days of The Riverdudes National Kidney Foundation of Michigan's fundraising team. Enjoy and happy Valentines Day.

A brief shiny moment

Well I wouldn't say I'm a gym rat. I'm not even a gym mouse.  What I can say is that I went to the gym today. 

There was a brief shiny moment last week when Antonia, my five year old daughter, and I were walking Cassie, our six month old Chocolate Lab.  When we got to the end of the block the three of us turned and started to run back home.

I saw Antonia's beautiful brown eyes look up at me with amazement.  I answered her unasked question with, "yea, were running, what do you think of that?"  She smiled widely and stepped it up a notch.  Unexpectedly, instead of stopping in a heavy pant, I went stride for stride with her thinking, "oh my gosh, I'm actually running, what is going on here?  Could it be that I'm getting in shape?"  It is amazing how quickly the frontal cortex can execute executive functions when it receives a healthy supply of blood. Immediately after I asked myself the second question, I rapidly supplied an answer, "yes," and promptly downgraded to a walk thinking, "but that is enough."  For a moment there was spontaneous, albeit slow, running with my daughter and puppy.  How delightful this glimpse of me-past was and how promising too.

I started last week strongly with visits to the gym on Monday and Wednesday.  My timing was great since Vicky was in mid training both times and was able to witness me in action.  I have to admit I was self-consciously waiting for her to come and correct my form.  Thankfully, she was too involved with her current trainee to come over.  Or, perhaps I was paying particular attention to my form.  All I know is despite the uncomfortableness, it was great to be seen in the gym by my trainer.

I had to cancel last Friday's session with Vicky because my endoscopy was scheduled close to the same time as the training.  As difficult as the training is, I seriously would have preferred it to the endoscopy.  When I called to reschedule, Vicky said, "it looks like you have been hitting the gym pretty regularly, I'll see you next Friday."  My timing had payed off.

The endoscopy was quick and painless, except for the sixteen hour fasting.  I know, we should all know what starvation feels like.  Or, perhaps we should all be so lucky not to know what starvation feels like.  I didn't come close to starving, but I was getting a bit cranky by show time.  In the waiting room, I was salivating as I read recipes out of Guy Fieri's Diners, Drive-ins and Dives:  An All American Road Trip. . . with Recipes!  I absolutely love his show.  Hmm, not so sure it fits with my training regiment.  Pass the barbecue, Mahalo!

This was my second endoscopy.  The first one, a few months earlier, came with a bonus colonoscopy.  My doctor has been searching for a reason my hemoglobin is hovering around 10.5.  Good news, on the second go around, my recently found eroded esophagus was nicely healing.  Thank you Prilosec. I sure the heck wasn't ready to cut back on the espresso. One thing I can say about Friday's procedure is that the photos were more pleasant to view.  You know that great timeless philosophical statement, "opinions and ____, we all have one?"  Well, after my two-fer three months ago, I actually had photographic proof.  It is just something I would rather assume I had based on daily use. But, no. As I was coming out of anesthesia, the doctor pulls out an eight-by-ten glossy and points to it and says, "looks good."  I said, "would you like me to sign it?"

By this morning the shiny moment was a distant memory.  I was eager to get back to the gym last Friday, because I was feeling the benefits of routine.  However, four days off and I felt like I was starting from square one and once again, needing to pry my arse out of my chair.  Thank goodness it was sunny today.  As I watched my window for working out gradually get smaller, by the grace of the sun, I was able turn my chair away from my computer, stand and walk to my front door, open it and leave.  And to my delight, when I get to the gym, there was Vicky.  She was without a trainee and stopped by and mentioned something about having eyes in the back of her head.  When she was leaving, I looked, but couldn't see anything but hair.

I have to go to the gym tomorrow to get in shape for tomorrow night's Daddy Daughter Valentine's Dance.  Gosh, I hope I can fit into my suit.  It is time to go upstairs and dialyze.  I'll see if I can remove four to six pounds of water tonight.  That should help with the suit.

On a healthy community corner note:  It is nice to see that my local Kroger's has traded in its healthy Mediterranean olive bar for a fried chicken bar, complete with sauces that can be tossed on top of the fried chicken and shaken in a bucket - not.

Nearly 50 pounds of gelatinous goo

A week ago I first met my trainer Vicky at the local community center gym.  I was skeptical about the need for a trainer until I realized my Wii Me wasn't getting any smaller.  In fact, it appears that he even got shorter, or perhaps my picture tube is on the fritz.  I could swear he seems a bit rounder.  I'll have to call a t.v. repair technician.  And yes, I do have a picture tube, my Sony is about twenty-five years old.


Adding a trainer to my regiment has been very beneficial.  Since first meeting last Friday, I am proud to announce that after today at 2:00, I will have seen a 100% increase in my gym time this week.  As much as I love my Wii Trainer, her motivational techniques did not come even close to this kind of result.


While the live version of a trainer is much more enjoyable than the virtual one, it appears that they may have undergone similar training.  When Vicky asked me to stand still to check my posture she immediately noticed my lack of balance.  I mentioned to her that was the same thing my Wii Trainer noticed.  Vicky suggested that I buy new shoes because it seems that I have a bowled over second position stance that reeks havoc on my balance and my shoes.  


Which reminded me that on a recent trip to D.C., I arrived wearing my sports coat over a polo shirt since I didn't bring a garment bag on the plane.  I'm on my way back from a briefing before we go to the Hill and I happened to see this fellow in the mirror - I swear it is the spit'n image of Michael Moore - a hunched over tired looking man with an axe to grind wearing an extra large sports coat, ball cap and splayed out flat footed sneakers.  The only thing missing was a camera crew and about twelve inches.

So I tell Vicky that I don't use shoes on the Wii.  "Oh," she said, just like the concerned surprise that the Wii has when I stand on it to get weighed.  "You may still want to get new shoes," she suggests.


Vicky points out that her BMI measurements pretty much approximate those of the Wii.  The main difference is that when she is done she doesn't draw a short plump caricature of me, rather she asks me to look in the mirror.  Which I might say, is much more effective if not a bit depressing.  My Wii Me always seems to be smiling, not so the real me.  Especially after the mirror.  O.k. so we have our work cut out for us - me.


Vicky goes on to suggest, "would you like to try the calipers?"  I ask if most people do this, and she says that most haven't got the fortitude for it.  But she thinks that perhaps I do.  I think about if for a minute.  ". . . and the truth shall set you free," John 8:32.  Of course when I was thinking this through I had no idea that this saying is attributed to Jesus as written down by John - thank you Google, er I mean All Saints Episcopal Church.  Being the truth seeker that I am, I ask Vicky to bring on the calipers.


A big pinch on my arm, a bigger pinch on my side and then the pinch of all pinches, the belly button pinch.  I'm not sure if I was giggling in response to the cold metal on my skin or the unbelievably large amount of skin being pressed between the calipers.  I really should have been crying.


After to doing a few calculations.  Vicky announce that I have 22.6% body fat.  That doesn't sound so bad.  That must mean I have 77.4% muscle, bone, and innards.  Then she lets the hammer drop, "Erich that is 47.46 pounds of fat for your 210 pounds of body weight."  Hmmm, I think to myself.  That is how much my six year-old daughter Antonia weighs.  It seems a bit excessive.  I mean I know she feels pretty heavy when she sits on my shoulders.  Kind of puts it all into perspective.


Nearly 50 pounds of gelatinous goo is weighing me down.  That can't be good.


With that I'm off to the gym to see Vicky for training day number 2.

Resiliency brother, resiliency

Written December 27, 2010


I'm sitting here here at 2:30 this afternoon in my new athletic wear wondering whether if I should go to the gym and exercise or go upstairs and take a short nap.  Andria is going to be late tonight, and I need to be my cheery dad-self when I go to pick up Jacob and Antonia starting at 3:30.  We are planning on seeing Jack Sprat Low Fat World Tour tonight at the Wharton.  You know, Jack Sprout from the mid-seventeenth century English nursery rhyme:

Jack Sprat could eat no fat

His wife could eat no lean

And so betwixt the two of them

They licked the platter clean.

I think going to see a play about eating low fat foods should be considered the equivalent of four sessions of exercise.  I was planning on taking the kids to see 101 Dalmatians but four free tickets came our way, so nutritional theater here we come.

To exercise or to nap?  Feeling fairly tired I'm just not sure if exercise will charge me up or wear me down.  Interestingly, after I pick up Antonia I mention that I'm tired to which she says, "exercise always wakes me up."  Kids what do they know?  Instinctively, I head up for a nap.  Over the past ten years my instincts have evolved to a more protective cocoon like flee response rather than the natural fight instinct I once had.  That may be o.k. since the old instinct often got me in trouble.  I'm at the foot of the stairs about to take the first step and the futuristic electronic synth tone of my phone chimes.  Fifteen minutes earlier, Jacob had called me fifteen asking for clarification on the note of things to turn in and ask his teacher that his mom had placed in this binder this morning.  In case it is him again, I answer.  "Hi, this is Tonya from ATT I am five minutes away and can come fix your problem now."

Resiliency.  To some degree we are all resilient.  It is a very important survival mechanism.  Having been chronically ill for ten years and having dealt with ten years of infertility (I suppose it has been twenty years, though we stopped counting after Jacob was born) I have come to rely on my resiliency.  While it was somewhat of a disappointment when the phone rang, I saw it as a sign the nap was not to be.  Instead, I sat down and started to type since I can't leave to go workout.

The ATT Service Tech Tonya is here because two hours earlier when ATT Service Tech George left after fixing my DSL he forgot to make sure my phone line was good.  It wasn't until I went to make a call that I found out it wasn't.  George was here because on Monday, ATT Service Tech Manny came to upgrade my house to UVERSE which would give my sad little DSL line a heroic boost.  It wasn't until Manny got to the local HUB that he found out that I was a few hundred feet too far for UVERSE.  Everything was working fine when he left until Tuesday.  After some investigation today, George found out the home office forgot to reconnect my DSL.  Tonya just found out that George had inadvertently shorted the phone line.  How do they stay in business?  That was a lot of work to give me the same service I had on Sunday.  The idea did cross my mind to switch to Comcast, but I really like my email address.  Resiliency allows me to see this bungling as a comedy of errors and not a tragic drama.  I was so relieved to get reconnected that I let the frustration of my wasted time drift away.

Andria is also very resilient though her acute instincts remain intact.  Last night Antonia's sighing woke her.  Antonia told her that she had a bloody nose to which Andria asked how do you know as she turned on the light - blood was all over her bedding.  As she was cleaning this up at 3:00 a.m., Jacob who has asthma was coughing and having difficulties.  While she was checking on Jacob my dialysis machine alarmed.  I attended my machine and managed to get to the end of my dialysis run only to have forgotten to clamp my arterial line when I was done.  That is the line that is connected to the top of my fistula which is my bicep via a large needle.  Because of my own rough night tending my alarming machine, I am groggy when I go to disconnect my machine lines from my needle lines in my arm and sure enough blood spills all over the bed from that unclamped arterial line -- another CSI like mess.   I can't really help clean it up because I need to spend the next fifteen minutes pulling the needles from my arm and holding my sites (holes in my arm) until they stop bleeding.  Because of her resiliency, Andria is able to lightly step over to my side of the bed and attend to the mess, before she simply goes about getting ready for her day.  She is probably relieved that our six month old puppy Cassie hasn't barked to go out yet.


There was a time that I fainted at the sight of blood.  Those days are long gone.  Resiliency brother, resiliency.  Now when I am dealing with a spill or a reluctant clot, Jacob and Antonia just watch with curiosity.  Daddy bleeding just doesn't phase them.  Of course, Antonia was none too thrilled with her own bloody nose.  I hope these experiences are fortifying them and not scarring them for life.


To exercise or to nap?  Today it will be neither.  I'll have to make do with a hearty serving of deliciously healthy theater.


Dialyze for the Prize.

Prying my arst out of my seat

How delightful.  The snow is lightly falling.  The children are off to school.  Andria is at work.  And, our Marley like six month Chocolate Lab, Cassie, is getting a bath at the kennel.  Simply, it is just a wonderful time to write.  


Except that I'm writing a blog about getting into shape and I haven't been to the gym since Friday when I met my trainer Nancy (which incidentally is not her real name.  I thought I should use a pseudonym in case things get ugly).


So, I will pry my rather soft comfortable arst out of this chair, put on my boots and trudge to the gym.

Time for the Trainer

Apparently the power walking mama's were too busy power walking to come to the nine o'clock class this morning.  And the AARP set were more content to be down the hall playing pinochle.  


"Herb, it is your bid," Harold says.


"Herb!" says Harold.


"Yeah, yeah, I hear you.   I was just thinking there was some place I was supposed to be.  I bid 250.  Darn, it is right on the tip of my brain.  Florence was saying something the other day about something she signed me up for," says Herb.


"You won the bid.  Are we playing cards or what?" Stan chimes in.


"I can't imagine being anywhere other than here. Hmmm?"  says Herb. 


"You want me to get you some Ex-lax to speed things up, Herb? says Stan.


"Hearts it is," says Herb


Alas my class was cancelled.  What does I guy have to do around here to get in shape?


I decided to take things into my own hands and went to the fitness center.  You sure can get a kink in your neck staring up at the T.V. watching MSNBC while strolling on the treadmill.  I also found it was hard to read the captioning with Patrick Simmons of the Doobie Brothers singing: 


Well, I built me a raft and she's ready for floatin'
Ol' Mississippi, she's callin' my name
Catfish are jumpin'

That paddle wheel thumpin'
Black water keeps rollin' on past just the same

through my Blackberry earphones.  I love that song.  Very appropriate for the Grand River Expedition too.

Thirty-five minutes later I'm off the treadmill and on to something else.  One thing I noticed about the fitness center.  There are a lot of fit people working out here.  Hmmm.

There it is, old faithful, the bench press.  There was a time when I could load a four of the forty-five pounds weights onto the bar and almost press it.  But for today, the forty-five pound bar was more than enough.  Vision's of the old Charles Atlas beach weakling found on the back of Flash Gordon Comic Books flash before me.  Has it really come to this?  I think to myself.  I do two sets of fifteen reps and then sit up to a bit of vertigo.  I know the lactic acid will be screaming through my deeply buried pecs tomorrow.  But, you have to start somewhere.

I grab some dumbells and do ten bicep and ten tricep curls.  I do a few presses and figure I've done enough for the day.  I set the dumbells down and to my surprise the 20 lb mark I was expecting to see reads 10 lbs.  Sheesh.

I realize as I leave the fitness center that it is time to call in a professional.  I had noticed a flyer on the wall next to the bench press - very strategic placement - advertising a personal trainer.  The flyer suggested that the personal trainer can provide an exercise regime tailored to specific needs, including medical concerns.  I grabbed her card at the front desk and called when I got home.

After getting some initial information, Vicky, the professional trainer, asks, "would you like to start tomorrow?"  Hold the boat I think to myself.  I mean I just walked 1.4 miles and benched forty-five pounds.  Today was a huge day for me.  I "Just did it."  I'm not an automaton that can workout every day.  What about my my sure to be searing lactic acid tomorrow?  I didn't say all that.  Roxanne just heard a nervous giggle prior to me saying, "ah, sure."  She then went on to discuss how we would discuss a number of things and assess my strengths and weaknesses.  To which I couldn't help but laugh out loud and say, "shouldn't take long on the strengths."  She didn't say anything and probably just thought, "he won't make it past two sessions."

So tomorrow it truly starts.  I'll be forking over real money to be motivated to exercise and not just collecting Wii coins on my Wii Fit.  I'll let you know how it turns out.

"Dialyze for the Prize."  Erich