I used to ...

... participate in sports as my main form of exercise.

Now, that I'm middle aged (really? - wow), I realize, much to my chagrin, I'm going to have to exercise in order to participate in my chosen sport.

I'm back on the River and, I don't know if it's my healing nose or my increasing girth or just the fact that I'm almost 41, but I was sucking in air like a fat kid sucking in cotton candy at the fair.

I had to tell Bruce (my doubles partner) that we have to turn around after we rowed about half the distance we usually would do last fall.

Oh well, time to be a grown up and do the things I tell my patients to do each day.

Peace, look for my wheezing up and down the Mississippi this summer ...

My boys can swim ...

Greetings, Internet - long time, no blogging. (I'm borrowing the 'addressing the Internet in letter/conversation form as a blog format' from a friend of mine)

Busy winter/spring:

1) I grow bonsais. Or is it "bonsai's"? Anyway, I have a lot of them. Actually, close to a gross. So, for a few weeks every spring, I am a re-potting madman. It's a flurry of perlite, pine bark, turface, peat moss in my garage. I actually developed tennis elbow (aka lateral epicondylitis) in my right arm from pruning roots and shoots - I think I need to get rid of a few of them this year at my club's auction.

2) refinanced the mortgage on my house - not physically demanding, but mentally taxing and stressful. Fannie who?

3) dealt with some family health issues - everyone is doing better, thank you.

4) I'm still recovering from nasal septum perforation surgery. It. sucked. big. time.



Sorry for the NSFW picture, but once again, I wanted to relay how much ... it sucked. (As an aside, I was on Percocet for a few days - not much fun as I thought it was going to be - hallucinations and f'ed up dreams - quite unsettling - I will never understand people who use the drug recreationally).

5) Finally, as the title of this post states - despite my 'advanced age' - my boys can swim:



Laura's about 21 weeks pregnant. The morning (actually, all-day) sickness was horrible but is better. She still has a lot of reflux and thank God for Pepcid.

We're psyched. Peter is going to be a big brother.

6) oops - I forgot. I bought another rowing single:



This is an used boat, but slightly newer than Zesty, Wry 'n Convicted. While I love Zesty, I think that it's too big a boat for me - this new single is more suited for my weight class. I'm supposed to have it delivered today (not transporting it myself this time) - and hopefully, I can get out on it this weekend. In a few weeks/months, I'll figure out which one I'll keep.


Peace, Internet. Stay classy.

I'm so glad ...

... that Peter seems to be getting over his fear of music. It was weird, he used to love it and then something happened, and he couldn't stand any music - not on the radio, the piano or guitar at home, even our singing.

I'm also glad that there is some good music out there for kids that isn't too cutesy or annoying. The Bare Naked Ladies put out a kid-friendly album a few years ago, with some good songs. Lisa Loeb also has some cool stuff.

And, thanks to Nick Jr, I've stumbled about an infectious group called the Laurie Berkner Band. Below is one of my favorites songs/videos. Enjoy:

I'm back. And I'm becoming 'that guy' ...

... You know the guy at the supermarket/McDonald's/bank with the discheveled hair, sweat pants, stained t-shirt and blank stare?

... or that guy at the gym who is lifting weights in his jeans and wool cap because he's too lazy to change into work out clothes?

... or your neighbor who's taking out the recycling wearing only his underwear and a smile even though it's 10 degrees outside?

Well, as this winter progresses and my hair gets grayer, I'm becoming 'that guy'.

I'd like to chalk it up to laziness, but I think it's more of an 'fuck it' attitude you get when you're older. And, to be truthful, when I catch myself being 'that guy', it kind of makes my day. Nobody else's for sure, but it's sure to provoke a smile on my face.

I've got to go out and clean the snow off the car - where are my snowmobile boots, my scarf and my mitten/gloves? I'm already wearing a stained tshirt and hole-y underwear ...

I need a vacation ...

... or smarter patients.

Overweight, 39 year old, stupid female patient (whom I will now refer to as O39S) comes in today for a pre-operative physical exam and clearance for surgery.

Gastric bypass surgery.

I've known O39S for several years. She's an out-of-control diabetic with hypothyroidism who is on disability because she has some weakness in her left arm from a workman compensation accident 10 years ago. She broke her arm in several places because she was too lazy to get the ladder at her warehouse job and she decided to climb the 15 foot shelves, which promptly collapsed under her enormous girth. So she sued the company and filed for disability and some idiotic doc signed off on all of this.

I'm not shitting you.

Anyway, she never does what I tell her to do - lose weight, check her blood sugar, stop smoking, stop sleeping with drug users, stop driving drunk, stop selling your thyroid medicine to your nieces as a "weight loss pill"; the list goes on and on.

So, today, she's all smiles and giggles. She was cleared for bariatric surgery and because she is on medicare, it's covered 100%.

She has not exercised a day in her life. Her version of a diet is cutting down to 2 liters a day of Mountain Dew from 4 liters. She has not checked her blood sugar in over a year. She has not taken any of her medications in 3 months, because she is using the money to buy cigarettes.

She would not even need this surgery if she tried half of the things I've been telling her to do for the last several years.

As we were finishing up the exam, she reports that she's going to get a boob job and a tummy tuck after she loses all the weight. She gleefully tells me that her cousin did it and got it covered by medicare because she told medicare that she was suffering from "mental anguish" from having "extra skin all hanging off her".

"That's what I'm going to do, too! It's awesome!" O39S is absolutely smiling like the cat who got the canary.

I think my mind must have short-circuited at that time because I couldn't mask the look of disgust and revulsion on my face. She didn't care, though.

"Well," she replied, stupid enough to not be offended, "Because I won't be eating as much, I'll have enough food stamps to trade for cash, so I can buy me some of those little Victoria's Secret underwear!"

I could only mumble something like "good luck with that" as I scurried out of the room.

Seriously. I need a vacation.

I like a little junk in the trunk ...

... but usually it's not the front hood crammed into the back trunk like this guy who was in front of me at a stoplight the other day. I can only imagine the shitty day he's having.

There are worse things I could be ...

... than my dad.

I was looking at this picture of my son and I that was taken a few months ago, when we were up in the Brainard area, and it seemed to resonate with me:



I don't know, it has a timeless feel to it. It was taken in 2009 but it could easily could had been taken in 1972. Which would've been when my dad was approximately my age and I was Peter's age.

I look at me and see my dad's half-smirk expression; the placement of his/my hands around his/my son; his haircut and clothes - even his sandals (his were leather, mine are some sort of canvas/microfiber).

Twenty-five years ago, this revelation would've upset me; today, it makes me proud.

I love you, Dad.