The times sure have passed, since the time I used to walk long walk through tremendously, hot path to the university gymnasium in the College, to my first fall in the year after the marriage, where in I escaped precariously from being "late" to the time of self-pity and self-loathing, to a recovery against the prennial worry of never to be be the old self again even after kicking the butt and getting off the butt.
The king of the house was de-throned, aging and fattening advisor with self-doubt and self-pity, aplenty.
The important thing which such catastrophic events that put you into an ICU brings you different perspective, it brings in a sense of mortality as a part of life. You understand that death in nothing but one step sideways and that how so insignificant your own being is to life. If I had not come out of that ICU on that fateful night, life would have gone by as it has, without me to poke my nose into its course. Well, as fate would have it, I did come out struggling to stand on my feet, after two weeks on the bed, and a long to-do and not to-do list, latter being the longer one. I was asked not to stress myself,and stay on healthy diet. I did listen to the first part and reduced physical activity and did not listen to the second part of it, bloating from a sixty-five to eighty two across a period of twelve year. The years went by as I limped back to life, and eventually got bless with a bundle of joy four years back.
Just when it seemed to be getting too perfect, last year on the way back from a drive to Nainital, I found I am suddenly too sweet. It was happening for quite some time, with dark brown patches dancing in front of the eyes as I drove back from the office, but I pushed it to the back. Talking to spouse would bring it back to the point of a criticism, too harsh for my taste, angry words being thrown back and forth, as life went by in ignorance. The coldness of the event finally reached home when a collegue commented on the sudden drop in weight pushed me sixty eight Kgs over a period of two months, and pushed me to go in for a check up, which threw a surprise in the shape of glucose at 294, much above the prescribed number of 150. Another month I gave to hope and waited for myself to get cured, before another report with a number of 320 shook me out of slumber. I wanted someone to snuggle that medical report out of my drawer, shout at me, change my diet, take me perforce to a changed life style, or as to quote from Chekhov (borrowed from Alain De Botton's writing) "He was a middle aged man, and he knew he can not expect to be cared for, cherished and loved like a child, but he wanted all of that"; this is all what I wanted.
A dear friend, one year junior from the college, eighteen years back called up, both him and his spouse, urging me not to take on this on myself. After deliberating on it for some time, trying to figure out my internal feeling out of a messy mix it had taken the form of, separating out self-loathing, a revenge on to oneself , hurt, anger and sloth, one day I decided to take it on myself, as I fixed a time with the Doctor and went to see him. Got some medicine from him, and then at the same time, started with initial effort to go for a jog. Winter days in february were benevolent and mornings had a beauty. As summer, befell on the city of Delhi, slowly taking the shape of firy oven as days drifted from February to May. Sometime in March, joined the Gym as the heat became unbearable.
But the regularity of attendance was never more than once or twice every week, as the schedule stood divided between Nonu and work and myself. However, in April, I took it on myself to put myself on some sort of precedance in the order of things, so that I could keep watching the lovely, naughty eyes for long enough time, before a prince eventually settles down in them.
So there were three steps, One, renewed the membership of the Gym, bought some more sports gear, T-shirts, shoes and all that and then, decided to be cruel and merciless in stealing the one and half hour every day for myself.
With the descent of Diabetes, the option was to do light exercise like walking and get it under control or to use this crisis as a moment to take a turn and get into the real exercise. It was crushing after a long time, but slowly it kept coming back like first ride on a bicycle. Eventually, yesterday brought in a report with Glucose at 92 (range being 70-100, even 150 being OK), Cholestrol at 180 (should be less than 200) and Triglyceride at 127 (should be less than 150).
By this private victory, I have gained access to three public lessons:
- Join an activity- Gym, Swimming or Squash anything physical, even if you end of irregular in the begining, it will not cost more than one fill of petrol tank, (may be even half the tank with the patrol prices are rocketing). Let it go waste for couple of months, not having membership as an excuse for not working out will not work.
- By all the gear that you need, clothes, shoes and all. It is all worth it, and with it staring at you all the while, you will eventually yield to wear it and will not take in an excuse of not being ready. I have interesting addition of couple of Nike T-Shirts in my wardrobe which I am pretty serious of extending.
In short, BE READY.
- Give your self some precedance. In the midst of a gender discrimination discourse which we hear everyday, it is sometimes men who are at the neglected end of the attention curve of families. Even in truly fiscal sense, where a collegue of mine last week advised me that every man ought to keep a rainy day nest, away from the knowledge of everyone.
Here I have collated my own experience, do let me know if this works for you?