A few years ago our neighbor Doug Miller, aka Mr Outdoors Utah, succumbed to colon cancer. His daughter, subsequently, made a series of commercials about getting your colonoscopy…cuz you never know. So I finally heard enough of her pleadings and went ahead and scheduled one. The doc my friend referred me to was unavailable, so I went with another one on my insurance list. I guess you don’t really need to meet with such a doc face to face. They just said come on in on this certain date at this certain time, and oh, by the way, you need to drink this stuff and empty out the old plumbing before you come. So I drank the dreadful stuff last Tuesday (remember the blog entry when I had NOTHING to say? That was Tuesday) I went in early last Wednesday morning. Dave had jury selection for a trial, which he couldn't miss, so Lib drove me. Yay for sisters.
I met Dr. Pugh about three minutes before they knocked me out. Besides the fact that I almost died on the table from an allergic reaction, all went as planned. I guess. I really had no plan. I was at the mercy of medicine, and it was not pretty. My blood pressure plummeted; I passed out, was covered with hives, oxygen levels dropped, and I threw up multiple times. Throwing up after fasting for 40 hours is not pleasant. Anyway…that’s probably more info than anyone needs in a blog. They filled my IV with stuff to combat the reaction and the doc with the extremely ironic name came in while I was still half out of it and told me that I needed to have more fiber in my diet.
So tonight my sister Ann Marie and brother John are visiting from out of state. We decided we would all make a trip to the gym together after Dave and I babysat our grand kids while their parents went to a movie. Since I’m pretty sure only family reads this blog, besides Val, Susan and Fran (Hi girls!) I am sort of laying it all out here before you.
See, last month I found this gym close by that never has anyone in it. It’s a little place, full of equipment, and the sign on the door says Private Fitness Club - open 24 hours. I had decided I needed to do some weight training, since my neuro-pathetic legs don’t work very well for aerobics. I called and met the owner there. It was reasonably priced, has the stuff we need, and its close to home. And to make it even sweeter, we can go late at night when for sure no one else is there!
So Dave and his harem all signed up. We go a few times a week; Dave, Sherry, Libby and me. Sometimes Gram comes in her wheel chair and watches us grunt and giggle. It must be a ridiculous sight, the team of us moving down a long row of weight training machines (some of us definitely more fit than others), working our various flappy muscle groups. I’m just glad I am the one behind my eyes! It makes me laugh to think of it. It's sort of out of our comfort zone. First off, when you walk into the place it smells like a pizza parlor. Don’t you think that’s hilarious? A gym that makes your mouth salivate? It’s situated right next door to a Subway Sandwich shop and I think the exhaust pipe from the ovens feeds right into the gym. The way things work in our family I am quite sure we are all gaining weight on the fumes.
Anywho…tonight John and Ash got home a little later than we thought and Dave was sawing logs on the couch at their place after the end of his week-long jury trial. So my sisters and I texted back and forth and decided to do the gym tomorrow. Besides, Ann Marie was in the middle of making oatmeal cookies.
I drove down Summerwood road toward home and my car just instinctively turned into Gram’s driveway. It was almost midnight. I pushed the garage door opener, lugged my unexercised body out of the car, and walked through the aromatic scent of freshly baking oatmeal cookies that wafted out into the garage. I flung the door open and declared:
"I’m here for my fiber!"
Dr. Pugh would be so pleased.