The Five People You Meet at the Gym

Living in California had convinced me to no longer pay for a gym membership, since so many days had weather that permitted me to exercise in the great outdoors. I've hiked in Yosemite, Big Basin, along the Bay, numerous state and county parks, Monterey, Santa Cruz, near the Pacific Ocean, and even alongside protected wetlands. Heck, I also regularly walked to the grocery store, farmers market, and drugstore in Mountain View to run errands, burning calories in the process.

I kept this routine up even after moving back to Pennsylvania for some time. But after breaking my foot (albeit on a sunny summer day), I realized that I was too klutzy to contend with outdoor exercise once Winter's ice would make an appearance.

Nowadays I sweat my ass off at my local YMCA. It's a great facility and the price is right. And membership provides a host of people-watching opportunities. Some of them interesting, some of them gross, and some like car wrecks you can't help but look at. C'mon, those of you who are also regularly going to the gym know what I'm talking about:

* The folks who dress with so many layers of clothing that you'd think the room is 20 degrees below zero (I swear, I wouldn't be surprised if they sported a scarf one of these days)

* The gal who is always on the ultra-bouncy step machine, yet has failed to embrace the concept of a sports bra (I keep wondering if she will fracture her jaw; my girls hurt justing looking at her)

* The "Lance Armstrong wannabe" in his aerodynamic spandex pants and long-sleeved turtleneck (Dude, get over yourself, and you look stupid in those pants -- it's the YMCA, not the Tour de France)

* The woman who bought herself some new workout clothes at least 4 sizes too small (Sorry, but too tight clothing looks worse than being overweight, no matter how little or much you weigh! Remember, girlfirend, my often quoted advice of "just because you can fit into it . . . don't mean you should wear it!")

* The world's palest white guy, sporting an overgrown afro, strapped in place by a headband that is eerily reminiscent of Bjorn Borg. If that isn't bad enough, the same guy is always wearing corduroy shorts that are in desperate need of additional material (think Bill Clinton's jogging shorts).

That's who works out at my gym. Who works out at yours?

Medical Update . . .

Since so many of you have inquired as to how "Big Bill" is faring, here is a quick update . . .

Big Bill left the hospital (Armstrong County Memorial) on Monday, after they removed the stent. While in there, his doctor had put him on a 1,200 calorie a day diet, which caused my Dad to lose about 15 pounds over the course of about 10 days. Of course, Dad didn't know really feel like eating during this time. This prompted my 18-year-old brother Billy to say,

"They should have kept him in for 3-4 months."

Hey, Billy, you speak for all of us! (I know, I know, tough family, eh?!)

Dad has been resting at home this week -- he is a little low on energy, been catching up on sleep, and still does not have much of an appetite (which is normal). The only time he leaves the house is to watch Chad at his wrestling practice. Big Bill plans on going back to work next week.

But wait, there's more! Next week Big Bill has a follow-up appointment with a nephrologist. And the real kicker, is that the guy's name is . . . Dr. Average!

Really, I am NOT KIDDING!

One Year Anniversary? Twelve Year Anniversary?

It's already been a year? It's only been a year? These are the questions Dr. J and I have been asking each other, and ourselves, lately . . . because today, we have been officially married for one whopping year! Then again, today also marks exactly twelve years from our very first date.

Dr. J and I met at W & J College back in January of 1993. We were mere freshman, and he was a long way off from being "Dr. J." Hey, I was a lot different back then, too! The then "Mr. J" was a too-skinny guy who had let the brothers of Phi Kappa Psi Fraternity (which he desparately wanted to pledge) shave his head. Yeah . . . it wasn't the best style move he ever made. Thankfully, it had started to grow back before we began dating, otherwise there would have been no date.

There were rumors on campus that Mr. J was either a narc, or he was from a Bronx mafia family and carried a 9mm at all times. I recall him as an incredibly bitter young man with a thick "New Yahk" accent. His bitter attitude, accent, and a language pattern that made extensive use of the "F-word" were an irresistible combination for me. I had to have him!

Eleven years later, on 01/24/04, we found ourselves deciding to ruin a perfectly good life of living in sin by getting married. Over the years we had both grown, as individuals, and together. Neither of us really thought that being married would be any different then the past eight years we had spent living together. Heck, we had a joint checking account, had lived in the Silicon Valley for four years, had health scares, great joys, major disappointments, and were well on our way to become bona fide adults. Nonetheless, numerous married couples seemed insistent that our lives would suddenly be so different because we had made it official.

One year later, I can't say that marriage has changed our relationship, or our lives, that much. We both think this is because we went through so many difficult, life-changing events before we were married, that it forced us to "Act Like A Married Couple" long before we even got engaged.

I am still glad I was attracted to a skinny, trash-talking, bitter New Yorker. Our many adventures, for the all the thrills and scares, have made us the incredibly strong couple, and individuals, we are today. Dr. J is still the funniest guy I know. And he is the one true man I can always turn to. He's someone I have an immense amount of admiration for. I am in awe of the man he has become. I smile when I think of the father he will someday be. And I couldn't breathe without him.

Dr. J, I love you. Always.

Ouch! Did I Need To Know This?

Dad's saga continues . . . the doctor placed a stent in his ureter, as he still has a kidney stone that hasn't been coaxed out of his body yet. As Dad told me this over the phone, with painkillers slurring his speech, I confess that I thought he was making up the word "ureter" (or at least mangling it, as he already refers to his prostate as his pros-strate, just like Andy Sipowicz on NYPD Blue.)

At first I thought that they were placing a stent into his previously much-discussed pecker (see post immediately below for explanation). So I asked Dad directly if this was the case, and he replied "No honey, 'cause they don't make stents that are 2 foot long!" Whoa, Dad, thanks for clearing that up! Now kindly excuse me while I go vomit!

Turns out ureter is an actual word, and a ureteric stent involves an actual medical procedure.

He's Got A Way With Words!

Dad managed to sneak a cell phone call to me from his hospital bed just moments ago. I now give you "Big Bill," in his own words . . .

"They've still got me doped up on morphine, but this new stone ain't movin'. I told the doc I don't have weeks to sit around and wait for it to pass on its own. So tomorrow the doc is gonna knock me out, then stick a coat hanger up my pecker and pull it out."

Well, no one ever said Big Bill minced words, eh?! And for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of meeting my Dad in person, now you know where my straight-shootin' conversation style comes from.

Kidney Stones, Round II

Well, it seems that Dad still has more stones to pass (cue obvious joke about Dad long having been full of it). Dad managed to convince the staff at Armtrong County Memorial Hospital to admit him on Sunday night, as the percocet he had been taking was no longer enough to quell the extreme pain he was having.

Despite having been a marine field medic in the jungles of Viet Nam, my Dad still hates needles, and typically resists any and all pain medicine, even a simple asprin. So, the pain is pretty bad.

I really hope Dad is not bullsh*tting on his pledge to take better care of himself.

Dear Ol' Dad (a.k.a. 911 - What Is Your Emergency?)

Over the past few months my Dad has begun to make a habit of swinging by my apartment on Saturdays, to catch a lunchtime nap. This past Saturday was no exception.

What was different was that Dr. J was home on a Saturday, having recently changed his office hours so that he now works only during the regular work week. Dad and I were both glad for this.

Shortly after Dad arrived, Dr. J decided to walk to the bank, post office and pick up a half-dozen bagels for us to munch on over the weekend. He took his phone with him, but did not have the phone turned on (NOTE: "words" were had over this later!)

While waiting for Dr. J to return, Dad stretched out on our couch for a nap, while I began cutting up some fruit and making tea. I was about to go into the living room to see if Dad wanted something to drink when I heard some strange noises, and saw my Dad had collapsed on the floor, was having trouble breathing, in extraordinary pain, and generally looked like sh*t!

I thought he was having a heart attack, but Dad thought it was a back spasm. Trying to remain calm (but feeling anything but), I begin phoning Dr. J and sending him a text message. NO RESPONSE -- THE DOCTOR WAS NOT "IN"! I mentally began to debate whether to call 911 or try to get my Dad down into the car on my own, while trying to listen to my Dad's barely audible answers to questions. After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. J shows up as Dad appears to be making a recovery on his own.

But the recovery was short-lived, as Dad began to show all of the same symptoms again, and this time was in even more pain. Dr. J believes it to be kidney stones, so we somehow get Dad down our spiral staircase (damn, how the paramedics would have gotten him down if it had been a heart attack, I have no idea!)

At Sewickley Valley Hospital, Dad has an x-ray and CT scan, and is placed under the care of Dr. Alfredo Munoz. This was a relief to me, as Dr. Munoz is the father of my high school friend Steve. After a few other tests, the diagnosis was kidney stones, and my Dad was thrilled to be placed on an i.v. with painkillers now swimming through his veins!

Most importantly, Dad was discharged in time to watch the Steeler game, and given a prescription for percocet and sent on his way.

I don't know who was happier, my Dad or the nursing staff who were beginning their makeshift tailgate party in one of the empty ER rooms?!

Of course, through gritted teeth Dad was vowing to make a lifestyle change, and that this "was a big wake-up call." Since Dad had previously passed what our family refers to as "the world's smallest kidney stone" about 17 years ago, Dr. J posed the following to his father-in-law, "Wake-up call? Have you been hitting the snooze button for the past 17 years?"

But perhaps the best comment comes from my 8-year-old brother Chad, "Dad shouldn't have eaten that bag of cheese the other day."

Well put, little man!

Recurring Dreams . . . Still?!?!

It happened again. Last night. My "school" recurring dream decided to make its way into my zonked brain as I slept. My school dream always centers around the same theme . . . I have forgotten to attend a class for weeks, even months at a time, when I suddenly remember I have an exam. Usually, I can't even remember where my classroom is, or even what time the class takes place. Sometimes, I can't even remember where my locker is, let alone the combination, in order to get out my books in a futile attempt to study in the five minutes remaining before the exam starts.

Normally my recurring school dream is set in high school. I always find this so odd, since I was on a very set schedule during high school, taking the same classes 5 days a week. Why would I forget to attend a class for weeks or months at a time? Why hasn't the school called my parents to report that I have been skipping class?

But last night the two exams I suddenly remembered having to take were for college classes. One was set for 9:00 a.m., in English. The other was for 2:00 p.m., in biology. At W & J exams took 3 hours a piece, thus my anxiety over failing to study was even higher! Three hours??? How the heck was I gonna bullsh*t my way through a three-hour English exam?! And I was praying that the biology exam was multiple choice, though even then it would not have made much of a difference.

All of this is extremely upsetting to me, since I have always been a serial studier, never miss class, and spent days preparing for even the smallest of quizzes. Further, as a planner, the thought of being unprepared is terrifying!

When I woke up, I was relieved to realize that I had not missed an exam after all. Better yet, for the first time in a long time, I was glad to be a grown-up.

Chili and Champagne? An Evening in Review . . .

The promise of seeing "the world's largest artificial tree in a split-entry home" necessitated a December 30th journey to Allison Park. The lovely home of Lisa and Bryan ("Hamster" and "Weeter") indeed delivered a sight to behold! The tree was grand, and featured perfectly spaced and placed ornaments, with an icy blue theme evident.

We started off the evening with a chilled bottle of Chandon Blanc de Noirs, my favorite bottle of bubbly! A toast to good friends and a great New Year ahead, followed by the clinking of flutes, and then the collective "ahhhhh!" It was then time to test whether chili could be paired with champagne. The chili, a meaty blend with a southwestern flair, was splendid! And the champagne proved to be an excellent match for the meal, along with some crusty bread.

While I anticipated and experienced an incredible meal with incredible friends and "the world's largest artificial tree in a split-entry home," I was unaware that entertainment would be part of the evening, too! Oh yes, the comedy due of Hamster & Weeter decided to treat us to some of the hallway antics Bryan has used over the years to both stymie and amuse students and staff alike. Who knew Mt. Lebanon High School would produce such a physical comedian? Suddenly, my eyes were opened to the Stutter Step, The Swim, The Locker, and even the Sudden Shoe Tie!!!


Bryan blocks Lisa with his patented "locker move."