The Endless Pool

 

Today’s question: can trying to avoid drowning count as a work out? My body is still being a bit stupid and I have to be creative with my workouts. Running – bad. Spin class – bad (for now, but good soon I hope!) Elliptical – been doing it so much it is a bit boring. So I thought, Why not try the “endless pool” at my gym. It’s a small 10 x 6 foot rectangle but you can swim in it because you can turn on a current.  Sounds fun, like a ride at an amusement park!! And all the people say swimming is the best thing for me... So I reserve my hour long session and head to the gym.  On the way, a little bit of doubt creeps in because I don’t swim. Never have. I just don’t drown. I make the motions of swimming in a general direction and kick for the surface till I get air. Most of the time, I am out of breath; not from the work out, but because I am drowning. 

In fact, a long time ago, I decided I would be an avid (aka thin) swimmer and took up the sport. I never lost any weight and the process was so involved with hair washing and chlorine and knots in the hair that I got rather frustrated. So one day, Al came to the pool to “see what I was doing wrong” because he had grown up by the beach and could swim his way out of a rip tide if required. (Also, I think he was sick of me complaining that I was working out so hard and not losing weight and just in general complaining.) So he came and walked along side of me while I swam a length of the pool. When I reached the end, I looked up hopeful he would have one or two easy fixes. Instead he says,

‘What are you doing??’

I have no response to this because I thought it was clear I was …swimming…

He says ‘I mean, you are moving along, slowly, but you are like a foot below the surface. Every time you want to take a breath, you have to doggy paddle your way to the top.’ I agree this is what it feels like and then he just shrugs his shoulders and offers no further advice except ‘maybe you should try some other form of exercise.’
So, because I am in significantly better shape than those dark days, I think swimming should be better… but I was wrong. I arrive at the gym and say, to the perfect bronze god at the front desk, ‘Hey it’s my first time using the endless pool. Is there anything I need to know, like how to turn it on or is it pretty straightforward?’

 

‘Umm yeah someone needs to help you,’ he says, calling for backup.

I am led down the hall trying to explain why I am limping in ten words or less. I find it awkward to have a disease that no one really understands but think they do. It would be better if I could not limp at all but I digress…

The back up bronze goddess leads me into the room with two pools and explains I am in the shallow pool. I think to myself, I wish I was in the deep pool because that seems like the grown up pool… She walks me through how to turn it on and etiquette for changing room use. (Apparently leaving your clothes in there - bad but judging by the state of it, leaving tiny curly hairs everywhere - fine…) Then she says, ‘Now, there is an emergency button up here,’ she says reaching up high on a pole outside the pool. ‘So if you are drowning, get out of the pool and push this.’ (To be fair, she clearly realizes this is ridiculous but is contractually obligated to have the conversation with me.)

I am excited and dressed in my new bathing suit that I bought about twenty-pounds-heavier ago so it is a little loose but loose clothes make me happy. I struggle with the pool’s stupid bubble wrap cover because my hands have ceased to be functioning as hands and have decided to be stumps. Eventually I get in and turn on the current. I am confident and turn that puppy up to ten miles per hour. And I start “jogging”; well, more like just trying to stay upright. I notice that the current is in the middle and so I think to myself, on the edges it must be going the other way so maybe I can do something like laps! I try running along the outside edge against the weaker reverse current and my plan is to run up against the fast current from the back of the pool. Unfortunately, when I reach the back of the pool I lean down. I have no idea why but I do. The full force of the current slams into my chest pinning me against the back wall of the pool. I cannot get up. I am flailing and eyeing the emergency button which is 15 feet away and, let’s remember, out of the pool. I flail my arms and legs and charge forward against the current when another swimmer enters the room. I do my best to look like I should be in the pool but he is not buying it. I struggle forward to turn down the current and decide I better swim if this guy is going to be in here because the loose swimming suit is doing nothing to hold important bits in place as I flail/run. I put on my daughters goggles, only one size too small, and start “swimming”.

 I notice this little pool has a mirror. I am not sure what for … watching your form? Or, what I used it for, watching my wobbly bits wobble and making sure my swimming suit stayed up as the current was determined to pull it down. (As a side note, it also helped me figure out I was wearing the tiny goggles upside down which was why they were cutting into my nose.) But most of the time, I watch as I sink below the surface flailing frantically and then lose the view because the current is tossing me to the back of the pool again. I spend the rest of the hour trying not to die and switching between jogging when no one is looking, “swimming” and trying to fix the mat that keeps slipping every time I run on it.

It is at this point that I looked up and saw the sign that said “warning: this area under video surveillance.”

I may be paranoid but the golden god at the front desk looked awfully giggly when I returned the key…

 

As far as swimming being better for me, I am now nursing a blister on my foot from the stupid mat... perhaps another form of exercise…

Prednisone... or Possibly changing my blog to: "Angry Ranting Sick Lady"...

Recently my body has collapsed just a little. It happens sometimes and at this stage a doctor will usually put me on Prednisone. It sort of conveniently sweeps everything under the rug so the body has a chance to reorganize itself. Before the doctor writes the prescription, I usually have the following conversation:

‘How do you do on Prednisone? ‘How is your appetite? Are you overly hungry?’ and ‘How are your moods?’

My eyes start to glaze over like a true drug addict and I can feel the pain relief as the small piece of paper makes its way towards me, ‘Just fine. Yeah, no problems at all. Not overly hungry and, because I am out of pain, if anything, my mood has improved!’ I laugh (more like cackle) and try not to yank it out of his hand. And then run out of the office before he has a chance to take it back. Then one night, a few days into treatment, I am lying in bed with Alan and we are discussing some inconsequential future event when I realize that I want to hit him. We are not fighting (not that fighting in any way justifies hitting but at least fighting gives an explanation for the urge). We are just talking and he has his arm draped over me which is really annoying because it’s making me feel trapped. He says something like, ‘Well we could think about this alternative plan…’ and I say, ‘Well that’s great isn’t it? Like REALLY helpful! You are just saying words. Words in no particular order that in no way help.’ And then I sigh really loudly because, really, he should have known better… Now you must understand, I have been through this round of treatment many times before but there is something about this particular moment, his lack of response combined with a smirk and a concurrent flash back to the doctor asking me about my moods… so I ask, ‘Do I get like this when I am on prednisone?’

AND HE LAUGHS. ‘Yeah, you do.’

More sighing, ‘Why didn’t you tell me I get so angry!?’

HE LAUGHS AGAIN!

‘Yeah, that would have gone really well!’ he snarks.

I have no response to this, so I take a deep breath, calm down and assess my previous two weeks. I am sure I hadn’t been overly angry; there were just a lot of stupid, idiotic people in my path. And I wasn’t really mad, just in more of a... questioning mood. I had a lot of questions like:

Why is absolutely everything in the world so depressing? I mean like everything. People are dying, wars are raging, the earth is actually dying. And, closer to home, why are people driving when I want to drive? They seem to think they can just get on the road the same time as me and drive however fast or slow they want and they don’t even care about me at all.

 Why was that guy in my class speaking, and why did he have a face? He should not have a face. His face makes me mad.

And why do doors open inward sometimes and outward sometimes? 

Shouldn’t all doors be the same?

Why are people who put doors on things trying to make me crazy?

I am always trying to leave and smacking my face on doors that should clearly open outward. (It is normal to kick stupid doors in public.)

And why is everyone so happy?

What the hell are you so happy about? I am not happy. I am tired and I want a nap. And you being all happy when I am sad and THE WORLD IS DYING! And there is Ebola! And some new person  at the smoothie place put two bananas in my smoothie so I had to throw it out because it tasted like banana. You should not be happy when the world is dying. You should all be sad AND you should definitely be sad that I’m sad. No, I don’t know exactly why I’m sad but you should at least make a sad face with me. Actually, I am pretty sure I am sad about the extra banana in my smoothie you should understand that extra banana makes it taste like banana!! I was trying to be healthy and get a smoothie and all I really wanted was a chocolate… something…anything chocolate. I would have accepted chocolate covered, chocolate inside or both. Instead, I am drinking banana mush.

And why is putting mayonnaise on chips so bad for you? It tastes so good. There should be more things I can find to put mayonnaise on like bread dipped in mayonnaise OR PEANUT BUTTER AND MAYONNAISE YES! Or mayonnaise and ketchup and mustard on bread!! A hotdog without the hot dog: perfectly normal dinner!

Why are there so many loud noises? Just stop speaking. Your voice is like projecting across the planet. I know I asked you a question but why do you have to answer so loud?

Why is the couch weird?

It is annoying to sit on. It is trying to be annoying isn’t it? It has been waiting all day for me to come and sit on it and annoy me.

Why didn’t you close the pantry door?

I JUST TRIPPED OVER A SHOE!  A shoe people… an actual shoe was in the middle of the place where I was trying to walk to get to the bathroom. Why is there a shoe THERE?

Why is it only eight o’clock? Why isn’t it nine o’clock, so I can go to bed? If I can’t go to bed, can I at least have a sandwich with mayonnaise on it?

Why are there commercials when I want to watch TV?

Why are there rich people?

Why can’t I be rich?

Why are the rich people trying to kill us and confuse us? It’s a conspiracy! They know something we don’t know. And they have secret clubs where they share information and become landlords and then go on holiday whenever they want and I just want to go home and see my Mom, Dad and sisters.

Why isn’t there some way we can own property and not have to stay in it? I don’t like staying in places; it makes me feel trapped. And houses are bad because then you feel like you are trapped in a box. They have a very suspicious box shape and they get smaller sometimes.

I feel trapped here, on this island, where the rich people are keeping me trapped and they won’t let me have strawberries in the winter. I want strawberries on my really expensive cereal that the rich people made expensive and then laughed when they watched me buy it because I can’t get my cereal anywhere else.

And I want Monterey Jack cheese! There should be more cheese on more things. There should be mayonnaise on cheese!

Are the rich people stealing my cheese?

And they all control the airlines and make it really expensive to go home.

Why am I in prisoner on this island?

And why did they take away my mayonnaise? They had the healthy, yummy mayonnaise and then the rich people said ‘No! You can’t have the yummy, healthy mayonnaise and you can’t go somewhere else to get it because you live on an island and then you would have to get on our very expensive plane and we will laugh at you.

They are always laughing at us, in their big houses so they don’t feel trapped in a box, and on their planes so they can go see their Mom and Dad or go get yummy mayonnaise whenever they want mayonnaise...

So, I feel, I handle the chemical inbalance of prednisone with grace and ease. It was just a run of really stupid people and, when you think about it, mayonnaise is really yummy and it is not odd that I should think about it for a while. Or try to find new things to put it on.

I do fine on prednisone.

It is a great drug.