The gym

The gym is an interesting place. I have put off going for a long time. I didn't want to walk my droopy, flabby self into a place with mirrors all around, toned, thin, tan people staring at themselves and showing off how fit they are. Then, I found this little place that some of my friends have been talking about. Anyone can go there, but their main target is the average american fatso. Really! So, off I go. I sign up and commit myself to this power strength class three days a week. wow! I am gonna do this!
First day was torture. I am sure this instructor is up all hours of the night imagining new ways to torture our under developed little muscles. I left the gym already aching. The day wears on, no problem. Keep moving, I'm told. Keep those lactic acids from building up. The what? Um, okay, I can keep moving. I have six kids. How can anyone with that many kids just sit? It doesn't happen. I even stand to write my blogs in case I have to take care of something in a hurry!
Then, I went to bed and spent several hours lying still. In the morning I got out of bed and nearly died. My body hurt. A lot. It hurt to lower myself onto the toilet seat. I went again for the second round. It wasn't quite as bad, but I don't think I worked very hard, because I could barely move anyway.
The third day at the gym was murder. Different instructor. Female. I swear female fitness instructors are merciless. They talk sweet, but push us to our death. Fortunately, the class is only 45 mintues long, not quite enough to actually get through death's door.
Week two rolls around. I rise at 4 am and go to it again. And again. I am committed! I am excited to be healthier! As for the mirrors, well, I can see how tortured everyone else in the class is and know that I am not alone!

Heart Failure?

Ladies Bible study, and Chapel Automotive Ministry are what we do on Thursday evenings.
Bible study ran over some. A lot. Okay, I was home about an hour later than usual. My husband was already in bed. Not terribly unusual as he gets up before dawn for work.
I went about the usual business, chasing monsters in their underwear around the house to get them into bed. I was feeling so good about being a helpmeet to my husband. I had taken all of the children with me to biblestudy, I had actually cooked dinner, dishes were done, the coffee pot was ready to brew a fresh pot in the morning, the dog was let in and fed, the children had their jammies on and their teeth were brushed. Not only that, they were fighting over who got to read the bible story before bed. What? Fighting over the Bible isn't good?
At any rate, I began to hear some irritated moaning and rustling about in bed. I began to feel irritated. What? I thought. Can't deal with a little noise while 5 other people get through the evening rituals? So, my helpmeet attitude flew out the door. Ick.
Finally, I get into bed, and D.H. tells me that he is in excruciating pain. The kind that gives a person sweats and nausea. I call the Nurse's Hotline, and he gets upset that perhaps I am calling an ambulance. I give the nurse all of the info, she says it sounds like it could be cardiac arrest, I suggest you take him to the hospital! ACK! Triple ACK!
My mind begins to race. Get dressed, get the kids up. Who shall I call to take the kids? Should I call Gramma? Honey, we need to go to the hospital!
He says, I just want to go to sleep.
What? sleep? you might be having a heart attack?
I'm not having a heart attack.
The nurse said you might be having a heart attack!
I'm not having a heart attack.
Honey, your high blood pressure. This isn't good...
I. AM. NOT. HAVING. A. HEART. ATTACK.
oh.
I need some sleep.
o.k. but, if it isn't a heart attack, what is it?
sigh.
what?
I think I am passing a gall stone.
I see.
I had a donut today.
one donut?
yup. just one donut. and a maple bar. and a cream filled.
that's three donuts.
nope. it's just one. maple bars and cream filled don't have a hole in them.
ummm...
yeah. can we go to sleep now?
Can you sleep throug the pain?
I am very willing to try.
This morning, he was gone to work when I woke up. No one has called to tell me that Hubby was rushed to the hospital.
I'm feeling that helpmeet thing come on again.