Apr. 17, 2007 - Walk the Line
I went to cardiac rehab for the first time today. I wasn't going to go initially. There's no way I could juggle childcare three days a week to actually go to the hospital to workout, so we've been making plans for me to workout at home. Our shiny new treadmill has taken its place in the bedroom, complete with a firm determination to never, ever let it become just another clothes rack or dust-collecting eyesore. The hospital told me they could design an exercise program for me to do at home, though, and I thought that sounded like a wise thing. So, I went for what I thought would be little more than a glorified planning session.
The visit started out with a stress test. I was glad they were going to do the metabolic stress test that measures lung function as well as cardiac performance. I actually thought I did pretty good. I stayed upright and everything, which hasn't always been the case in my history. So, I was surprised to hear the doctor's report.
My exercise capacity has not improved at all since the last test I had before the surgery. No, compared to other people my age, my body's ability to handle exercise is only 45% of normal. 
I'm a bit disappointed by that. Even the doctors were confused why my lung capacity in particular was so bad. I thought for sure there would be a teensy weensy amount of progress. Just when I thought the storm was clearing, it looks like it's still raining...
I'm very glad I went to the appointment. It was an education. All the symptoms I feel when doing anything physical, the way my body responds to the demands I put on it, and the rollercoaster pattern of the last year all make a lot more sense now. I haven't "exercised" in a couple years. Not on purpose, at least. My body's exertion is the daily housework and toddler wrangling that feel like a mini-marathon. It's actually comforting to see in numbers why I feel so daggone worn out at the end of most days.
So, I'm going to start going to the group rehab class once a week where they can watch me. Then, I'll fill in with workouts at home---nice and slow. I asked the doctor if there was anyone in this class even remotely near my age. He said, "Well, I was just getting ready to warn you about that." Great. Time for Mama to feel like a Grandmama again. Or maybe a Great Grandmama from the looks of my classmates, who I saw as I was leaving the office. There they were, grooving to the music.
Oh, well. It wouldn't be my life if it didn't have hiccups. Besides, it never hurt anybody to shake their groove thing. 
