For the past year or so, I have made walking a part of my daily routine. I try to walk every day, only missing when we have early morning appointments or I develop an ache or a pain that gives me a good excuse to skip it. I have adjusted for weather conditions. When it's hot, I try to get out before sunrise. When it's cold, I dress warmly. Unless it's absolutely pouring, rain doesn't stop me either.
Jason gave me a little gadget to motivate me. It a Fitbit Flex. You wear it like a bracelet, and it tracks the number of steps you take, the miles you cover, and the calories burned. It also monitors your sleep. Yesterday, I received a congratulatory email for taking 5,000 steps in one day.
I don't understand how the thing works. There was no calibration to gauge the length of my stride. It just so happens that I have a very short stride. If Mr. Fixit and I are walking and he takes the same number of steps that I do, he covers more ground because his stride is longer than mine.
The sleep monitor is also a puzzle. It knows how many hours I sleep and counts the "restless" times. Hmmm. . .
I wonder if Google has anything to do with this company. I think Google is trying for world domination, and this little piece of electronic wizardry could be Big Brother.
Even though my paranoia is running rampant, this is a fun little thing to have.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
A few days before Christmas of 2013 a terrible experience began for Mr. Fixit and me—a malignant tumor was found in Mr. Fixit’s kidney. The cancer had spread to his lungs. It has been very difficult for both of us. He faced his mortality, and I faced the possibility of losing him. (Our 50th anniversary is very soon.) Yesterday almost exactly two years to the day we heard some very good news. The last scan showed that the last visible tumor in his lungs is now less that 1.5 centimeters and is now classed as stable. The doctor gave him the option of continuing or stopping the oral chemo medicine that he has been taking. The doctor said that Mr. Fixit has responded so well to the medication that he (the doctor) feels confident that discontinuing the medication won’t be harmful. Mr. Fixit jumped at the chance. He had very few side effects crop up caused by the medication. He developed a rash once, but we’re not sure that that caused by the meds. The dermatologist thought not. Mr. Fixit’s complaint was a digestive tract complication (to be blunt, diarrhea. TMI?) The problem became almost an obsession with him. He had to take medication that every day, and, even then, he suffered almost daily with the problem. It became his overriding topic of conversation. To be perfectly honest, and to my own discredit, I became very impatient with him. I know first hand the inconvenience and physical discomfort he was going through, and I tried to be sympathetic. Then I sort of snapped one day when he threatened to stop the medication on his own. I suggested, perhaps not as diplomatically as I should have been, that having diarrhea was a small price to pay for the life-saving medication. I’m not proud of myself for that conversation. To show the difference in our perspectives, Mr. Fixit became emotional (in a good way) that he could stop the medication because of his side effect; I am thankful that his battle with this scourge—cancer—has been successful. A very Merry Christmas for the Fixit family! ******************************************************* Note: One more Christmas wish. I may be pushing my luck here. Please, Blogger, please, show my paragraph breaks!!!