Rehab

My name is Rachel, and I'm in rehab.

Bet that caught your interest, didn't it? I am in rehab, but as a guest, not a patient, and it's not drugs or alcohol but cardiac rehab. Yep, I'm taking my mom to cardiac rehab. (Remember a while back I said the last part of 2006 was sucky sucky sucky? That's part of the reason why. Chest pain, triple bypass, three major surgeries in seven weeks, MRSA infection, partial sternectomy . . . I get down just thinking about it again.)

We go to the physical therapy part of the rehab first, then have an hour-long class afterward. The first day, the nurse gave me consent forms so I can work out, too. (I wonder -- did I look as if I WANTED to work out? Worse, did I look as if I NEEDED to?) Yesterday I even went so far as the take a pair of comfy workout pants and sneakers with me. I walked into the room, accompanied my mother through the weighing in, donning the monitor pouch, applying the four-lead monitor -- all the time too cold to even consider taking off my gorgeous black-wool-and-fur coat. Other than the staff, I was by far the youngest person in the room; I don't know how those fragile little eighty-somethings could stand the chill. Honest to God, I saw my breath when I breathed.

Then came the music. I like music. I even like it loud. But the rock playing in that room was so loud that I have no clue how the nurses were able to hear to take blood pressures. The music -- which I didn't even like -- was rattling the fillings in my teeth, so as soon as Mom was settled on the stepper, I headed for the hall. I walked, which had been my plan; I just did it up and down the long hallways, where the temperature was at least ten degrees higher, the music a hundred decibels softer and much more pleasurable. I got in a good walk -- my preferred method of exercise when it's too cold to get out the trimmer, mower or chain saw -- in time to join Mom in a nutrition class. Didn't learn anything there I wanted to know -- fried food is bad. Sour cream is bad. Thai food is bad. Asian food in general is bad. "If I like it," one poor man sighed, "I shouldn't eat it." (Bless his heart, he was learning to cope with both heart disease and diabetes at the same time.)

Just to give you an idea of where I'm coming from nutritionally: before rehab, we had a late breakfast of bacon, sausage, ham, eggs, hash browns and pancakes with butter and maple syrup, then Robert and I had dinner at our favorite Vietnamese restaurant. (And if the nutritionist thinks soy sauce is salty, she should try nuoc mam (fish sauce). Wowza!

I'm going back tomorrow for another walk and Healthy Eating, Part II. Hope there's better news in that class! Rachel11:30 AM