Never Trust An Old... Treadmill?

It seems like only yesterday when Stu came home from the hospital using a walker and determined to heal so that he could use his brand new right knee joint like a pro.  He is the consummate overachiever, as everyone who knows my husband is aware.  Stu will not only do the job right, he'll overdo it to the point where he gets fired.

His wife, on the other hand... not quite such a valiant warrior in her own life, sad to say.

Everything turns into some kind of weird competition between us, especially with both of us home all day.  When Stu's narcotic pain meds killed his appetite, he thought:  oh, great; I can finally lose some weight!

I thought: oh, no.  Time for another graphic demonstration of the drastic difference in weight management requirements between Stu and MR.

One of the first things I did, before he was even home from the hospital (perhaps this was my idea of starting training for caregiver tasks), was to start a daily walking program for myself.  

We have an antique (of sorts) treadmill downstairs in our basement.  This particular monster has moved at least four times - two of those across the country - of which I'm aware.  Stu purchased this for his own exercise needs before he and I met.  And it's a great treadmill.

However, just like human bodies, these things eventually wear out, and the process of being used a lot for a while, but then left to sit and collect dust for an even longer while, does not enhance its usability.

I believe I made it to day two or three this last time before it threw me at the 16-minute mark.  Yes, folks, it literally seized up and stopped like someone applied hydraulic brakes.  This body in motion wanted to remain in motion, and very nearly wet herself trying not to fall when the magic belt halted abruptly.

Since Stu was unable to diagnose the latest treadmill problem from upstairs, and at that time unable to descend the steps to get up close and personal, I switched to walking both dogs around the neighborhood.  I did that a couple of times before the weather turned suddenly cold and now warm again.

I'm currently in one of my chronic pain cycles - at least that's my excuse for now - but Stu was eventually able to diagnose the problem.  I had told him I thought it was an electrical failure. It turns out that there's some kind of kill switch built into this treadmill when some threshold is exceeded.

That's great for the treadmill.  But what about the stress threshold of the walker?  Inquiring minds demand this answer.  I don't trust it anymore.

And as far as the weight loss journeys of this particular couple... he's doing great.  I told you in the first paragraph: he's an overachiever.

No Goodbyes For You

The Soup Nazi from Seinfeld must be somewhere in my brain.  

An entire week has elapsed since my last post on my other blog related to my having been laid off from a job I often professed to hate.

I guess it was, for me, like a relationship that you've "settled into" but were never thrilled with.  

I accepted the job in 2014 knowing that it was a full $2/hr less than I wanted to accept for any job.  The two increases I received never even got within $1/hr of my earlier target.

Why did I assume there would be raises?  Why did I think I could prove myself worthy?

Why, for that matter, did I even think anyone would miss me when I was gone?  They're obviously still in business.  And in the Saint Louis office, there were ten.  And now there are nine.

I hate to say it, but the "walk of shame" - where the boss gives you your immediate notice of termination, and the second in command helps you gather your personal stuff and get it to your car - isn't really all that much nicer with a hug and a kind word from each of them.

Not that they didn't try to make it less awful.  I know they did.

I keep wondering, in retrospect, who was watching out the upstairs window(s) as the Ops Mgr and I were putting my bin in the trunk of my old car.  

I did know who was already in the office that morning.  It was my job to know that for the first 45 minutes of Wednesday, January 25, 2017.

I understand that both the VP and Ops Mgr were trying to do things "BY THE BOOK" since they knew my husband had been a supervisor more than once, and since they might have worried about my husband's tendency to reach out and express opinions.

I won't stalk anyone.  My husband is done writing emails related to jobs held by either of us.  Trust me on this, please.

So sorry I didn't get to hug or say nice things to any of the other seven folks still working there.  I know it wasn't any of your fault.  

I'm glad you all still have your job and most importantly, your health insurance.  Mine ends in 19 days.

Meanwhile in my twisted little brain, a New York man with an accent keeps repeating... 

NO GOODBYES FOR YOU!