So, my partner has left for a six-week trip to New Zealand to visit family, and I am staying in the UK, as usual when Di does these trips, to look after whatever dogs we’ve had at the time. I hope it works for her. It’s a risk, but as no one is saying she can’t travel despite last year’s heart attack and asorted ailments, in part she has just decided to try to live her life within reason rather than becoming a professional patient. Seems like if you keep visiting doctors at our age, they are going to keep finding something wrong – calcium too low, cholesterol too high, whatever. Useful to know and to try to remedy but not a reason to do nothing other than more tests.
Physically, I’m pretty low myself. A bad back towards the end of last year, perversely (given the sometimes extreme if not downright stupid things I’ve taaken part in) and brought on in a critical sense by lifting a couple of trays of pastries at work, resulted in me having to take some time off most activities while I concentrated on strengthening and stretching exercises. I had hoped the New Year would see me moving incrementally into gear but a combination of wanting to support Di into her trip and what I thought was a cold but was likely, judging by the longer term symptons, a form of Covid my jab hadn’t saved me from. I’ve felt very tired, my breathing has on occasions been very heavy with only the sort of light exercise going upstairs involves, I’ve not been able to taste or smell much.
I’ve tried to fight this within context of ensuring I’m not risking not being able to look after Albie. Initially, I was doing some fast and where possible uphill walking, which I’ve tried to move onto runny walks (a minute or two running to a minute’s walking) but have really struggled with breathing on even this. In swimming, I have a couple of times had to stop and completely reset after less than ten lengths – though I have gone on to complete five or six hundred metres using a variety of strokes and breaks. Last time, I did manage a straight 500 metres freestyle, which has given me some hope, but it’s so far from where I wanted to be. And fat, I don’t know what my weight is but my gut is ugly with either extra kilos or muscle turned to fat.
I have another three weeks before Di returned and have a plan of sorts for this period. Two runny walks a week and a swim of some sort, along with assorted strength and stretching exercises and yoga. This on top of Albie’s three or four walks a day and some harder walking – we have just returned from Formby and some enjoyable ascents and descents in the dunes.
I’l hold on doing what I can for now, then try see what is possible when Di is back to share looking after Albie.