So, I've been going to rehab for about four weeks. Since I'm a musician, I like to say I'm "in rehab", since it has that rock-and-roll substance abuse ring to it (heck, Amy Winehouse got a whole song out of the topic). The truth is much less cool - I'm in cardiac rehab. S
Actually, maybe the rock-and-roller analogy is appropriate: cardiac rehab is where the Woodstock generation is hanging out these days. Most of my fellow rehabbers are in the 70+ age group. Do the math - these are the twenty-somethings of the Summer of Love, now in their last (or perhaps penultimate) chapter. About half of the folks tote around oxygen bottles from machine to machine. Many are a little hard of hearing, and a few are a little mentally fahrblunget.
And then there's the "youngster" of the bunch. The active fifty-something guy who rides his bike to rehab. Who smiles politely every time they give him literature encouraging him to take up exercising, then throws the stuff away - because OF COURSE he's going to take up exercising. RESUME exercising, that is. Who is already walking and experimenting with a little running, biking, doing some gentle yoga, and even doing a modicum of strength training (abs and squats).
Starting rehab was something I really looked forward to in the days following my surgery - a milestone which meant I was ready to start on the path back to normalcy. However, it's been a little bit of a disappointment, since it's clear that rehab is designed for the elderly and sedentary. I grit my teeth and put up with the rehab protocol, which mandates a very gentle progression of exercise. In the fourth week they finally ratcheted things up to the point where some of the exercises raise my heart rate. I mean, it's not like they can't see that the exercises have been too low intensity for me - they watch the readout from the heart rate monitor I wear the whole time I'm there. Well, I guess protocols is protocols. I keep plugging away, and the fact that I'm exercising and my heart activity looks normal is giving me confidence to gently ramp things up in my own exercising.
Plus they have free coffee (though it's decaf).
One man's journey into the great outdoors of Washington, DC and its environs.
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