I have recently been chronicling the move of our youngest daughter out of the homestead. This is significant in a number of ways (see previous blog post; and stay tuned for more yet to unfold), but not to be overlooked is the initially unrealized validation of my increasing & restoring health. Moving isn't easy, but in retrospect, it's a fairly good test of my energy, strength and stamina. There was significant lifting and toting involved, all of which aren't necessarily the usual exercise regimen for a person with my condition or sub-normal hemoglobin level (Multiple Myeloma affected the oxygenation of my blood and my general sustained physicality - I had none). Granted I still can't run up a flight of stairs without getting winded, but what other reasonable adult of three-score-plus years would be able to do much better.
I can fairly control the amount of activity that I subject my evolving body to. I've gotten better about knowing my limits, managing the quantities of my exertion into more digestible bites (Pack up the U-Haul the night before / Rest / Unpack the U-Haul the next day), and letting others help (big shout out of thanks to "The Boys" and an even-more noteworthy acknowledgment of the capability of "The Girls"). But there are times when the excitement or urgency of the moment gets the better of me and I lose my governor (an attachment to a machine, such as a gasoline engine, for automatic control or limitation of speed).
I'll confess that this latest move was one of those occasions. We were all pitching in and working hard to get the new adventure started (both loading and unloading the moving truck). We all got excited about the awesome new apartment. It was only one floor up (two short sets of stairs; by the time you lift the box, you're already half-way there - to putting it back down). And the weather was so accommodating that it was motivating.
We all took a lot of water breaks, we stopped to allow time for lunch (who knew Panera Bread delivers ?!?!), and Carl inspired me to be uncharacteristically responsible about carrying things that were clearly meant for two people. But in the end, I was able to keep up with the kids, offer a reasonable contribution to the efforts, and objectively (inadvertently) prove to myself that my strength is returning with every task and physical challenge. And "Dr. Rosen" didn't have to yell at me once!
PS: The key to successful moving is not only surrounding yourself with willing and able-bodied young helpers, but - gloves. It's all about the gloves: for grip, protection, and looking kinda cool. Don't move home without them!
