Forty eight weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 241
- Blood Sugar: 94
Half a pound down, and happy about that. Blood sugar is back down in the 90s, and happy about that as well. A friend pointed out that stress affects blood sugar. Hmmm. What could’ve been causing me stress lately? It’ll come to me.
Turned in the last of my grades on Sunday, and spent Monday playing video games and sleeping, which is the usual. And then spent the next 48 hours madly prepping my summer critical thinking course. I have to record videos still, but I’m otherwise done with that. And that’s why I’m writing this a day late. Well, that and my shitty memory (I get weird, obsessive tunnel vision when I lock in on a thing sometimes, and everything else flies right out the part of my mind where I prioritize things).
The country is slowly opening back up, which is objectively stupid, and yet…I’ve been to a restaurant twice. Same restaurant, two separate occasions, and they’re taking the precautions required by the county seriously (the first time I went I saw them turn a family away for not having masks, which made me happy). I’m 51 and I’m on the young side for their clientele, so I think they’ve correctly guessed that the county-mandated precautions align with their self interest of not killing off their customer base. And I really appreciate that so much.
I’ve heard other stories though where the businesses clearly don’t give a shit, and their customers clearly don’t give a shit. We’re in for a lot more death. As nice as it was to sit and eat and chat with a friend, I’m really not in a hurry to put myself in close proximity to other people.
Except my gym opened up again. Same deal, they’re requiring masks, they’ve blocked off every other piece of equipment so people are forced to maintain a social distance. There have been a few ass hats – mostly young white dudes and impatient, middle-aged white women – who are idiots about standing too close to people, but I just try to step back away from them when it looks like they’re going to squeeze between two people who are six feet apart. These people are absolute garbage, and if I had the ability to shoot lasers from my eyes, they’d just be smoldering dust heaps on the ground. As it is, I just try to keep aware of the idiots around me and be ready to maintain the distance when it’s obvious they aren’t going to.
I have no use for these people, I really, really can’t stand them.
All of the above should suggest I’m conflicted about being around people in the middle of a plague, and I am, but goddamn, it’s nice to be back at the gym. I’m going to miss it when the death toll starts going back up and things start shutting down again.
Even as I finished it, I realized that last sentence was a gargantuan assumption borne of fantasy and nonsense. WE CAN’T CLOSE DOWN AGAIN, WE JUST OPENED BACK UP. PEOPLE NEED TO WORK. WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO PAY EVERYONE’S RENT INDEFINITELY?!? #Capitalism
Part of me feels like this has gotten a little off task. A larger part of me – the part of me that’s not deleting it – feels that part of an extended discussion of my health must include a brief mention that my health, based on what I observe and the decisions being made by local government, is objectively less important than people’s freedom to sweat all over each other and do shots. And that’s fucked except…I’m going to the gym. So if I’m willing to roll the dice with my own life so I can go work out, is it really fair that I’m so quick to judge all the ass hats doing shots in close proximity?
Obviously, the answer is no, it’s not fair, BUT I’M DOING IT ANYWAY, AND I’M NOT LOSING A SECOND OF SLEEP OVER IT. #PutOnYourFuckingMaskIdiot
I’m happy. In five days I start teaching my summer class, but it’s only one class, which will be almost like not working compared to the last six months. It’ll mean having time to relax a little, and more importantly, it’ll mean having time to put in on the good, hard work of writing.
Here, have a graphic:
