If I'd known I was gonna live this long. I'd have taken better care of myself. ~ Composer/Pianist Eubie Blake at age 100
Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Step right up! Don’t be shy! Let your hair down and let it all hang out! is passé and Cyber Monday was just another wasted day spent vegging out in front of your computer. But today is different! Today is the day you’ve all been waiting for!
Today is Tuesday!
I’m not sure that intro worked the way I’d envisioned. I’m not really a hype kinda guy. I’m more a meat and potatoes guy. I lay out what I want to say, bare bones and to the point.
If this were a carnival or a three-ring circus that hype stuff might cut it, but it just doesn’t work here; not for me. Oh, well! I tried! And considering how I feel today I suppose I should at least give myself some credit for making the effort, no matter how unsuccessful it may have been.
Now that I’ve tried to get you all fired up and failed miserably, what I have to say here had better be good or you won’t come back next time; and the reality of the writing biz is that I’ll only make it through these if I can drum up repeat readership.
I can only hope you won’t hold this particular offering over my head as an example of my usual work. My writing may not quite be up to snuff today because I feel like dog poop!
Now, I’ll admit it; I don’t rightfully know what dog poop feels like, but I’m willing to go out on a limb and say it doesn’t feel terrific. Let me clarify that when I say feel, I’m not talking about feel as in the physical type of feel; I’m talking about feel as in the emotional type of feel.
I think anyone who has ever stepped in a pile of doggie droppings and has had to scrape that disgusting, foul-smelling, squishy mess off the bottom of their shoe will agree that the physical feel of said droppings is several notches below nauseating.
But emotionally, if dog poop had feelings I’d expect they’d tend to lean toward the morose side. Let’s face it; dog poop stinks and no one likes to have it around, so how good could it possibly feel?
Okay, what I’m about to say has very little to do with what I’ve already said, although it’s loosely connected, and has absolutely no connection to the point that will follow; if I ever get to it. But if you’re a regular reader of The View From Here, you’ll have no problem following where I’m about to take you and we’ll both get back safely. I promise!
Here we go. So, who do you suppose it was who thought it would be a good idea to have that little bear in the Charmin commercial come out of the bathroom with toilet paper stuck all over his rear end? Come on now, admit it. You’ve wondered about this, haven’t you?
Do you think a bunch of writers were sitting around brainstorming and some guy jumped up out of his chair and screamed, “I’ve got it! Picture this. There’s a momma bear and a papa bear hanging around outside their bathroom, okay? Then the camera pans to the baby bear sitting on the toilet reading the newspaper. When he comes out of the bathroom mom and pop are horrified to see that their little cherub has a bunch of toilet paper stuck to his butt.”
“In the next scene the papa bear hands the baby bear a package of toilet paper that is apparently butt-stick-proof and the young cub, obviously moved by his dad’s thoughtfulness, smiles enthusiastically. In the final scene the baby bear once again exits the bathroom, sans butt clinging shards of paper, and hands the newspaper to his dad who is apparently unaware of the dangers of coliform bacteria transmission.”
It may have gone down that way, right? Someone had to have okayed this guy’s idea. The commercial is on TV.
Listen, I warned you this may not be my best work so I don’t want to hear any belly-aching, okay! But I suppose I do owe you an explanation as to why my normally fully operational brain is a bit out of sorts today.
I was diagnosed with Type II Diabetes about fifteen years ago and up until now I’ve fared very well. I’ve been on oral medication and have managed to keep my blood glucose within a reasonable range.
Diabetes is a chronic disease that generally becomes progressively worse over time. Yuh, that's a bummer, but we all have our crosses to bear and I guess this is one of mine. I say one because life is at best, uncertain, and we have no idea what may be in store for us down the road.
Life is kind of like football. If you're going to make it to the final whistle you're going to get some bumps and bruises. And you're definitely going to get beat up and knocked down in the process. The key is to keep getting back on your feet; to make it through to the end no matter what it takes to do so.
Over the past several months, my glucose levels have been on the rise. It’s probably at least partially my own fault. Okay, who am I kidding? To a certain extent, it’s definitely my own fault. Although I’m usually pretty good about what I eat, I’ve been eating more than I should.
And forget about exercise! I sit in my office pounding on my keyboard for much of the day, so my fingers are pretty much the only part of my body that get any exercise. But a negative always generates a positive. My fingers are in great shape!
Toward the end of 2010, I had decided it was time to get back in shape; to return to the Adonis-like physique of my youth. Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite Adonis-like, but I was in great shape. Hey, a guy’s entitled to exaggerate a little, isn’t he?
So, I set out to find the best place to work out; a place that had all the amenities I wanted, along with being easily accessible and adaptable to my work schedule. It would have been nice to find a place where they’d do my work out for me, but seemingly no such place exists; at least not in this area.
I did a little research and discovered that the was the best fit for my lifestyle and my work schedule so, eager to get started on my quest to reclaim my youth; I joined immediately.
I worked out five to six days a week. I was eating right, I felt better and I saw visible results in my body within just a couple of months. If you’re like many work out wannabe’s, you know the rest of the story. I missed a work out now and then, sometimes because of my work schedule and sometimes for other reasons, e.g., I just didn’t feel like going.
And then I just pretty much quit. Of course, I had a boatload of excuses, but excuses don’t cut it. So, after beating myself up for a week or two; I renewed my efforts to find another place to whip myself into shape.
I checked out but decided that wasn’t the place for me. Then I investigated the , a new place right up the street from my house, but it wasn’t going to be open for business for several weeks and I wanted to get started right away, so that wasn’t going to work.
Finally, I went to in Norton. I’d been a member there years before when it was Norton Health and Fitness and had been pretty successful in making it there nearly every morning for more than a year before that came to a screeching halt. I can’t remember what it was that got me off track. Oh, I remember now; it was me!
Anyway, I really liked Gold’s facility and they had a great monthly plan, so I signed up and got all psyched up to start working out again. I haven’t been there since! I’m serious. I’ve never so much as entered the building since I joined. Pathetic, huh?
A friend told me they have a Missing Persons poster on their bulletin board with my picture on it and after the first of the year they’re going to add my picture to milk cartons.
So anyway, I was telling you about my rising blood glucose. A couple of weeks ago, I decided I’d had enough of feeling crappy and being tired all the time. I’d had to take two naps on most days, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, and I was lucky if I felt good one day out of the week. So, I decided to make an appointment with an Endocrinologist a friend had recommended. I guess you could say I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.
So, I saw the doctor a couple of weeks ago and the bottom line is that I have until December 22nd to get my glucose levels in line or I’m going to have to go on insulin once a day; not something I want to do.
The doctor increased one of my oral meds and told me my only chance to avoid going on the insulin regimen is to exercise daily and eat right. And even then, there’s no guarantee of success. It’s possible that my pancreas is fizzling out on me.
I’ve been doing what I need to do and my glucose numbers have come down somewhat. That’s encouraging! And that little success gives me more impetus to stay the course.
But my biggest motivation comes from the fact that I want to see my three grandchildren grow up. And I want to live long enough to dance at their weddings.
Yup! That oughta liven up the party!
Gampy doing the chicken dance!
Make it a great week!
Bob Havey is an Easton-based freelance writer and a consummate trouble-maker. His column, "The View From Here", appears each Tuesday at http://easton-ma.patch.com and on Wednesday at http://mansfield-ma.patch.com