Tag: brain stroke recovery

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When Snow Saves You From Your Morning Run

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

It started innocently enough: rain tapping at the windows after bedtime, wind doing its best impression of a haunted-house soundtrack, and, by morning, a temperature drop so dramatic it felt personally offended. Forty degrees cooler than yesterday. Forty. Degrees. The weather didn’t just change overnight. It staged a coup.

My wife, ever the morning warrior, still laced up and headed outside for her exercise. She came back reporting winds cold enough to warrant a full winter outfit. Apparently, she and sudden temperature plunges have an ongoing dispute, and she refuses to let the weather win. I admire her deeply. I also admire her from the inside, where it is warm.

As for me, once I’d finished breakfast and reality had fully set in, I did what any sensible person does in the age of smartphones: I consulted the weather app. The forecast, bless its pixelated little heart, informed me that snow was expected to begin within the hour.

Now, I want to be clear: I am not a fair-weather runner. Cold? I’ll suffer through it. Gray skies? Character-building. But actively falling snow is one of my few, carefully preserved conditions for calling off a run. It’s not laziness; It’s principle. With snowflakes on the way, I did what the data demanded: I declared the day a rest day and settled in, quite contentedly, to stay indoors.

The snow did arrive, though it turned out to be something of an underachiever, nothing like the January accumulation that had buried the neighborhood. Temperatures stayed just above freezing, and despite the blustering wind, there were even a few brave souls outside. (I see you, and respect you. I am not joining you.)

But here’s the thing: skipping the outdoor run didn’t mean skipping everything. Resistance training lives indoors, and indoors I did my exercises, thank you very much. Snow: 1, Running: 0, but me and my workout routine? Still undefeated.

Until next time, may your weather apps always give you the excuse you were looking for.

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Nashville Surprise Snow

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Spring in Nashville is less of a season and more of a personality test — and this week, we are failing it magnificently. Not so long ago, we had some warm days. Today, we received a Nashville surprise snow.

This Sunday, my wife decided to take matters into her own hands and get a head start on the yard. Smart woman. She figured that if she tackled the weeds early, she’d stay ahead of them all season rather than playing frantic catch-up in June. And honestly? She was right — though she did kick off this ambitious plan on a morning when snow is in the forecast for tomorrow evening. Nashville in mid-March: where you can get sunburned and frostbitten in the same week.

While she heroically wrestled the yard into submission, I held down the equally important fort inside. I made her a proper Sunday fancy coffee and a fluffy omelet — because a good support team fuels the troops. I also spent some time prepping my pastry bites for the coming week. Whether I’ll actually need them Monday is another story, since temperatures are predicted to nosedive 20 to 30 degrees overnight. Crazy right? Apparently, Persephone has decided to take a few extra personal days down in the underworld this year and hasn’t quite committed to spring yet. We wait, Persephone. We wait.)

My Wife’s Yard Campaign Against Weed

My wife’s yard campaign was thorough. She pulled out the long weeds that have a habit of tangling themselves around the lawn mower blades at the worst possible moment. She also cleared out the grass and scrubby growth creeping along the foundation of the house — and spotted a few ambitious vines that had quietly decided to make themselves at home near the siding. Vines can damage house siding; left unchecked, they’ll wedge themselves right in and cause real damage. My wife is officially on vine patrol for the rest of the season. The vines have been warned.

The rest of the week is supposed to settle back into something resembling spring. So, I may get back to my morning runs and mowing sessions after breakfast on weekdays. In the meantime, it feels good to be getting back into the Sunday routine — pre-breakfast yardwork, pastry prep, and all.

Until next time — may your weeds stay small, your pastry bites stay crispy, and your local weather app stay at least vaguely honest.

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Getting Back to Yard Work and Hematology Appointment

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Spring is back — and right on cue, so are my old friends: the weeds, the mower, and my ever-reliable aching back. It’s that glorious time of year when nature says, “Rise and shine!” and my yard replies, “Not so fast.” I have to get back to yard work between my hematology appointment.

This spring comes with a plot twist: I’m now on the every-two-weeks hematology appointment schedule until May, which means my gardening calendar has some medically-mandated detours. But hey, who needs uninterrupted yard time when you can seamlessly juggle blood draws and dandelion dispatching?

On the bright side, I’ve also picked walking back up after my runs — nothing says “efficiency king” like slipping in a stroll while waiting for my Uber. Progress is progress, no matter how leisurely the pace.

As for the weeding? I’ve fully embraced the “every little bit counts” philosophy. Even a quick 10-minute weed-warfare session between commitments adds up. My wife, however, is the undisputed MVP of this household’s horticultural operation. She’s out there every weekday morning, rain or shine, clocking a solid hour with laser focus. Nothing escapes her watchful eye — not a rogue dandelion, not a sneaky crabgrass. Her dedication puts my occasional weekend sprints to shame, and honestly? I am not even embarrassed about it.

Mother Nature, ever the drama queen, hasn’t made things easy. An unusually warm stretch practically rolled out the red carpet for early weed growth, meaning I’ll need to kick off yard duty sooner than last year. Just when I thought I had a few extra weeks of couch time… Of course, this being spring, it’ll probably snow on Tuesday. Classic.

Thursday’s mowing session got quietly axed by my hematology appointment. The lawn will just have to hold its breath until the weekend — and honestly, with my schedule, so will I. But I’ll get there. One weed at a time, one appointment at a time.

Until next time — stay ahead of the weeds (or at least pretend to).

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The Ancient Greek Pun I Finally Solved Twenty Years Later

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today is March 4th, which means it is also Exelauno Day.

What is Exelauno Day?

It is a wonderfully nerdy holiday for classicists based on a pun involving the Greek verb exelaunein, which means “to march forth” or “to drive out.” Since “March 4th” sounds like “march forth,” someone, somewhere, decided this was too good of a joke to waste.

The phrase comes from Anabasis by Xenophon, which makes the joke even more gloriously academic.

When I was an undergraduate student studying ancient Greek, one of my professors casually asked the class if anyone knew when Exelauno Day was.

None of us knew.

We guessed a few possible dates, but he never told us the answer. Somehow, that random question stayed in my mind for more than twenty years.

Finally, after all this time, I decided to look it up.

And there it was: the answer was simply March 4th.

Honestly, it is the kind of joke that only classicists could create—part language lesson, part historical reference, and part terrible dad joke preserved for eternity.

To celebrate, I tracked down my old professor’s email address and sent him a short message telling him this story and how much his classes still stayed with me after all these years.

I am looking forward to hearing back from him.

Sometimes the smallest things teachers say end up staying with us far longer than they ever realize.

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Small 5S Organization Project: Installing a Vacuum Hose Rack

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

My wife has been working on her 5S organization project for almost two months now. She started with the kitchen, then recently she turned her attention to the pantry.

A few weeks ago, while organizing that space, she realized we needed a proper rack for our central vacuum hose. Up until now, I had been leaving the hose on the pantry floor simply because there was nowhere else to put it.

Technically, it was “stored.”
Practically, it was an obstacle.

Since I often carry heavy items through the pantry, having a large vacuum hose stretched across the floor was less than ideal. It looked messy, took up space, and quietly waited for someone to trip over it.

So my wife decided it was finally time to solve the problem.

She ordered a vacuum hose rack from Amazon a few weeks ago, but when it arrived, it came with one important thing missing: screws.

Apparently, the manufacturer assumed we either owned an endless collection of mystery screws or enjoyed turning simple projects into scavenger hunts.

Since we were not entirely sure which screws would work, we decided to order a different rack that actually included hardware. The first rack will still be useful in the garage for organizing extension cords.

While she was in organization mode, my wife also broke down a large stack of Amazon boxes that had been slowly breeding in the garage. Somehow, cardboard boxes have a strange ability to reproduce when left alone too long.

By the end of the day, the pantry looked much tidier and more spacious. Removing the hose and the boxes from the floor made a bigger difference than I expected.

These are the kinds of tasks that only take a few minutes. Yet somehow remain on the to-do list for months if you are not careful.

At least now, two more small but annoying tasks are complete. The pantry floor no longer looks like a storage puzzle.

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Internet Outage and Limited Date, and We created Backup Plans

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

We have now survived almost four days of Internet outage and limited data.

At this point, we are not entirely sure whether the internet outage was caused by the weather, nearby construction, or some secret anti-streaming conspiracy. All we know is that our internet disappeared, and my wife and I immediately entered “rationing mode.”

We tried to avoid using anything that would consume too much data.

The surprising part? We discovered that we use far more data than we realized—even without watching videos or playing games. Apparently, modern life quietly consumes the internet in the background whether you notice it or not.

We also learned that our phone plan belongs to an ancient era of AT&T history. Our plan is so old that they do not even offer it anymore. It includes very limited data, and once we pass 2GB, the speed slows down to something roughly equivalent to communicating through carrier pigeons.

Today, my wife had a rare scheduled day off from work, so we decided to make good use of it and visit the Indian restaurant where we celebrated our anniversary. Her day off had nothing to do with the internet outage, although I suspect the timing felt particularly welcome.

Technically, she could still use her work hotspot, but she does not like relying on it too much. She prefers to save her personal data for work-related needs, especially when internet outages decide to turn life into a survival exercise.

Eventually, we decided it was time to upgrade the phone plan.

The new plan is much more forgiving. Instead of becoming unusably slow after 2GB, it simply lowers our priority after 3GB. In other words, if another outage happens, we can still function like normal humans instead of internet archaeologists.

It was oddly interesting to see how much data we had used in only four days. Even without videos, we had already burned through nearly 1.6GB.

While we were at the AT&T store, I took advantage of their very strong Wi-Fi and downloaded a few audiobooks. I had been avoiding downloads because we were treating our mobile data like a wartime ration.

So even though our home internet still has not returned, at least we now have a better backup plan.

And honestly, that feels strangely comforting in a world where losing internet for four days somehow feels like being transported back to the early 2000s.

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Living with Kidney Disease and Anemia

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today, I want to talk about how I am living with kidney disease and Anemia. Recently, I was told that I have a red blood cell count problem.

It has been 11 years since I first learned that my kidneys were not functioning properly. Since then, I have spent a lot of time negotiating with my kidneys—and, unfortunately, they are not very cooperative negotiators.

When your kidneys stop working properly, a lot of other things become more complicated. Kidneys do much more than simply “filter the body.” They influence energy, muscle recovery, blood pressure, appetite, and what you can safely eat.

For me, food restrictions have become a regular part of life.

I have to watch protein and potassium carefully. I also need to limit foods high in phosphorus. There is something strangely ironic about being told that white bread is a better choice than whole wheat bread. Green vegetables, chocolate, nuts, dairy—many of the foods people describe as “healthy” suddenly become foods that require careful planning.

I can still eat some of them in moderation, but I have to pay attention.

The protein restriction creates another challenge: muscle recovery. Since I cannot eat large amounts of protein, I struggle more with building muscle and repairing it. If I push myself too hard during exercise, I end up with muscle soreness that lasts longer than it should. Fatigue becomes part of the package.

And now there is the red blood cell count issue.

Apparently, healthy kidneys produce a hormone that tells the body to make red blood cells. When the kidneys stop producing enough of that hormone, anemia often follows. So while my low red blood cell count sounds dramatic, the cause is actually fairly straightforward.

The good news is that this part has a relatively simple solution.

For the next two months, I will visit the hematology clinic every two weeks. They will draw blood, check my levels, and give me an injection to stimulate red blood cell production.

It is not exactly how I would choose to spend my free time, but it is manageable.

The doctor told me that it will probably take at least a month before my blood counts start responding to the medication. Until then, the plan is simple: keep doing everything else I am already doing, show up for the appointments, and stay patient.

I am especially curious to see whether this treatment affects my running.

If my red blood cell count improves, my body should carry oxygen more efficiently, which could help my muscles perform better during exercise. Perhaps my runs will feel easier. Perhaps I will recover faster.

Or perhaps I will simply stop feeling like my muscles filed a formal complaint every time I overdo things.

Honestly, that alone would be a victory.

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Hematology Follow-Up and a Kitten’s Great Onesie Escape

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today included my hematology follow-up appointment, which meant the usual routine had to make room for doctors, blood tests, and medical logistics.

We first discovered my kidney problem after my brain stroke. At the time, the doctors wanted to try a treatment that would stop iron from leaking into my brain, but one of the requirements for that treatment was healthy kidneys.

That was when we found out mine were not healthy at all.

Back then, my kidney function had fallen close to stage 5.

I have also dealt with anemia since childhood because of a Mediterranean blood condition similar to sickle cell disease. After my stroke, I needed injections to increase my red blood cell count. I went through that treatment for a few months nearly ten years ago.

Earlier this year, my doctor noticed that my red blood cell count had dropped again, so now I am back in treatment mode.

My wife asked me how I did not notice the anemia returning.

Honestly, I did not.

Since I have lived with anemia for most of my life, feeling dizzy from time to time does not feel unusual to me. I know I cannot take regular iron pills because of my blood condition, so I mostly accepted it as normal.

My wife found that strange. She used to struggle with anemia herself, and for her, the symptoms were very noticeable—especially feeling lightheaded after standing too long. In her case, the problem came from not getting enough protein and iron for her activity level.

So now, I am committed to this treatment plan until May. I have to see the hematologist twice a month, which feels slightly ironic because every visit includes them taking three more vials of blood to monitor the blood problem.

Apparently, treating anemia involves donating a surprising amount of blood first.

When I returned home, my wife and I planned to inspect our kitten’s incision. Today was supposed to be the day we decided whether she could finally retire from her onesie.

As it turns out, our kitten made that decision herself.

Sometime between my wife waking up and me getting out of bed, she successfully escaped from the onesie. Apparently, she had officially reached the end of her patience with recovery fashion.

At that point, we looked at the incision, saw that everything appeared healed, and decided not to put the onesie back on.

She has been absolutely full of energy ever since.

Today she has run around the house, reclaimed her territory, and played more than thirty rounds of fetch. Clearly, she feels completely recovered and ready to return to her normal life of speed, chaos, and relentless enthusiasm.

Honestly, seeing her back to normal made the whole day feel much lighter.

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Kitten Recovery Update: Escape Attempts, Endless Appetite, and Onesie Battles

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Another Kitten Recovery Update. Our Kitten has been recovering very well. In fact, she is recovering so well that she is sure she does not have to be in her onesie.

This morning began with breakfast, coffee… and a jailbreak attempt.

The moment I opened my office door, our cat made a bold dash for freedom. After more than a week of confinement, she clearly believes she has served her sentence. Now every door opening feels like a high-stakes negotiation. I have to move carefully, or she will slip past me like a tiny, determined fugitive.

As if that were not enough, she had also escaped her surgical onesie—again.

Impressive, honestly.

At first glance, her incision looked fine, but I plan to do a more careful inspection with my wife later. In the meantime, I reset the situation: recapture the cat, reinstall the onesie, restore order.

Temporary victory.

Her Restless Kitten Syndrome continues at full strength.

After securing the onesie (round two), I gave her another dose of pain medication, followed by food and fresh water. Her appetite, by the way, is thriving. She has already finished four bowls of food—and it is only midday.

At this rate, the onesie is not shrinking. She is expanding.

My wife noticed the same thing last night while adjusting the onesie during another escape attempt. Between limited movement and increased eating, our little patient has entered what I would call a very successful recovery phase.

On the bright side, I have become surprisingly skilled at giving her medication. My wife taught me the technique: distract generously, act quickly, and make sure the cat never fully realizes what just happened. Efficiency is key. Confusion is helpful.

So far, it works.

Despite all the chaos—the escapes, the climbing, the constant supervision—I am genuinely happy we have her. She has added a lot of life (and activity) to my days. I have always been a cat person, and even this tiny troublemaker has completely won me over.

Now we are both waiting for the same thing:
the end of the onesie, the reopening of the room, and her return to full freedom.

I suspect she will celebrate that moment dramatically.

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Restless Kitten After Surgery: Restless Kitten Syndrome

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Our cat has officially entered what I call:
“Restless Kitten Syndrome.”

Today turned into a fairly lazy day—at least for me. For her, it was a day full of frustration, boredom, and creative attempts to reclaim her former lifestyle. Since she remains confined to my room, she has decided that I am now her primary source of entertainment.

And by “entertainment,” I mean climbing all over me constantly.

Right after her surgery, she needed comfort, and we gave her plenty of it. Now, she has upgraded that expectation into a full-time service plan. She demands attention with increasing enthusiasm, clearly confused about why her life has suddenly become so restricted.

From her perspective, this makes no sense.

She wants to run, jump, and play fetch.
Instead, she gets… rest.

The vet gave us strict instructions: no activity. The incision needs time to heal, and one enthusiastic leap could undo everything. Unfortunately, cats are not known for her patience. She is energetic, athletic, and deeply committed to chaos.

To make matters worse, the medication keeps her slightly calmer than usual—but not calm enough to accept this new lifestyle without protest. She knows something is different. She just does not understand why we refuse to play with her.

Naturally, she has found a solution.

If she cannot play, she will use me as equipment.

The highlight of the day came during my planking session. Just as I started, she decided my back and legs made an excellent climbing structure. Now, one might assume that a cat adds useful resistance for strength training.

This is incorrect.

A moving cat adds unpredictability, instability, and a strong desire not to collapse mid-plank and accidentally squash your recovering patient.

I abandoned my first attempt.

I Tried my exercise again.

An hour later—after sufficient cuddling, petting, and emotional negotiations—I tried again. This time, I succeeded.

Victory, under these conditions, feels earned.

At the end of the day, her behavior makes perfect sense. She is bored, restricted, and full of energy with nowhere to go. Attention has become her only available activity, so she takes as much of it as possible.

We are now counting down the days. In about ten days, she should be free from her onesie and allowed to move more naturally again.Until then, I remain:
part caretaker, part furniture, and part jungle gym.

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