Tag health and fitness

Road Trip: Ephrata and the Cloisters

Angel Ackerman 4 Comments

Yesterday, my friend Gayle and I embarked on an adventure. I wanted to motivate myself toward more movement and healthier living and Gayle enjoys visiting new towns via self-guided walks designed by local clubs of the American Volkssporting Association. Gayle has wanted to hit the Ephrata, Pa., walk (which is about 90 minutes away from our homes) and I love a day trip. The walk is maintained by the Susquehanna Rovers.

Gayle packed lunch. I packed sunscreen. I even tossed some electrolyte powders packets in my bag, knowing it would be a sunny summer day. I took my muscle relaxers.

Off we went.

The background

Now, as someone with a mobility disability (cerebral palsy, spastic diplegia), I suspected– or perhaps even knew– that this would end with some sort of injury or discomfort. I had hoped that having this walk, a 5K by design, would motivate me to get away from my desk and wander around the neighborhood.

That didn’t happen. I could blame the heat wave, but in reality, I doubt I would have changed my behavior even if the weather were nice.

In the end, I said to myself, “Anyone can walk a 5K.”

And in one respect, I was correct. I did it. On the other hand, it was stupid. And I’m suffering because of it. But that’s getting ahead of myself.

I wanted to use this walk to see how my movement was in a more long-term commitment. I wanted to test my breathing and my heart rate. I suspect a lot of my health issues will not resolve until I lose at least 20, if not 30, or even 35 pounds (at which point I ask myself– how did I gain this much weight so quickly?)

So this walk would help me evaluate my true status and make health-related goals.

That was my logic. Was it a tad reckless? Maybe, maybe not.

The Walk

Ephrata has a lovely main street, historic buildings and apparently monuments– none of which we saw because the 5K was mostly through residential neighborhoods. And we missed a turn somewhere and ended up shaving off about a half mile. Our time for our 2.8 mile 5K was about 31 minutes a mile, and we periodically stopped to enjoy the shade, look at weird buildings, and sometimes cuss about hills.

AVA walks are rated, and this was a 1B which means it was supposed to be easy, with sidewalks and the occasional hill. But if you looked at the “fine print,” the walk was rated “medium” for strollers and “hard” for wheelchairs. I think for the foreseeable future Gayle and I need 1A walks that are easy for wheelchairs.

So here’s my analysis of what we saw in Ephrata on the 5K:

  • A gnome garden. I like this tiered design of outdoor knick knacks. I’m not sure what sense it makes, but it seems like a concept the no-longer-a-Teenager would embrace.

  • A neighborhood egg stand, that was closed.

  • The strangest “double” homes I’ve ever seen. The walk took us through an entire neighborhood of attached, split-level homes. I own “half a double,” and some neighborhoods in my area are row homes that expand an entire block. But I have never seen neighborhoods like these. I fail to understand the logic. There are two reasons to “attach” homes– one is to lower the cost by sharing a wall, and the second is to squeeze more people into a smaller space.

These homes have the space to be detached. They are on suburban lots. So, if you are going to invest in a suburban home, why would you want (or even accept?) being attached to your neighbor. There were also attached ranch homes, with the same concept, but just without the extra stories. And some had a strange shared doorway in the middle, like a breezeway, so they were both attached and detached.

  • We did see a lot of great distant views. Mountains in the distance. Clear skies.

  • One of the first things we encountered was the Anne Brossman Sweigert Charitable Foundation, with a family sculpture out front and a sign engraved on a grave marker. (They also have not updated their website in almost 10 years according to the “grant history” tab.) Why did they place their sign on a grave marker? So it didn’t blow away? Fade?

Around the two-mile mark, we realized we had missed the turn and reached our threshold for the residential tour, and ironically, we ended up taking a street parallel to the main drag back to the hotel where the walk-box is stored.

Interlude: Early in the walk, I noticed my right leg was pulling in toward my left leg. So, minding my fitness and strength coach’s advice, I led with my knees to make sure I wouldn’t end up tripping over my own legs due to my knees facing inward. I tried stretching, to see if I could get my hips and thighs to move more outwardly, but I couldn’t come up with the right movement.

Nothing hurt, but damn everything was tight, and my legs fought me with every step. By the time we climbed the hill and stairs by the hotel, my back was starting to feel the stress. My legs didn’t want to lift. So I made it to the car and popped another muscle relaxer.

Step count: about 8,500

The Ephrata Cloister

We went to Ephrata Cloister, driving down the main drag and wondering why the walk couldn’t have shown us all these lovely local businesses and perhaps led us to a cafe where we could have rested. We had a savory-and-sweet vegan chickpea and carrot salad with a side of grapes for lunch. From there we headed into the gift shop.

At the gift shop, I found an impressive collection of wood crafts, paper folding kits for Moravian Stars, quilted cards, replacement ink for quills, Amish novels and a nice selection of Pennsylvania Dutch nonfiction books.

The no-longer-a-Teenager is mostly Pennsylvania Dutch on her father’s side. One paternal great-grandfather was Welsh, but all of her other paternal great-grandparents were Pennsylvania Dutch. Her paternal grandmother’s father spoke Pennsylvania Dutch (Leroy Buss) as his first language, learning English at the one-room schoolhouse he entered at age five. I would have loved to buy her a Pennsylvania Dutch to English dictionary or Superstitions and Folklore of the Pennsylvania Dutch, but the budget did not allow.

We visited the museum where we learned that the Cloister was a spiritual community with roots in Germany that came to Pennsylvania, just like the Quakers and the Moravians, in the early 18th century for religious freedom.** They had strict beliefs and practices, one of which was celibacy so it became impossible to keep the community alive. (The “householders” later became the German Seventh Day Baptist Church. Householders were the families on neighboring farms who supported the community and their religious beliefs without going all in on the celibacy, vegetarianism, and sleeping on a wooden block disciplines.)

We also saw a really long glass horn.

** 1720. That’s more than FIFTY YEARS before the Revolutionary War.

The tour

Gayle and I like to support local history and nonprofits, and who doesn’t love the story of a good old colonial cult. So, we embarked on the tour.

First, we watched a really information-packed but poorly acted and filmed movie. You can watch it online here. (This was where Gayle thought she lost her phone and I got a text from a client who needed me to do something later that day.) We were told the tour was 45 minutes to an hour long, depending how many questions people had, and that we should be on our way at 3 p.m., 3:15 p.m. at the latest.

Gayle was hoping the tour would send us all over the grounds walking from building to building. I was suddenly starting to hurt and could barely stand. Neither of us voiced what we were thinking to the other.

“You’ll love the tour guide,” the volunteer at the desk said. “He’s really knowledgeable and passionate.”

Our tour guide took ten minutes to get us out the door because already other members of the tour were asking stupid questions covered by the movie we had just watched. We walked out to the middle of the yard, not even a half acre away where the tour guide announced we had reached the village.

We stood outside for a long time, at first talking about architecture, then the idiots with us had to debate how old the trees might be, and whether they were “original.” I was mesmerized the whole time by a man who looked very Mennonite/new order Amish/”Dutchy.” You don’t think the Pennsylvania Dutch have certain genetic “looks,” but they do.

Now, somewhere around this time, it became difficult to know when the tour guide was telling us historical fact, and when he was expounding on his own “theories” (his word). He talked a lot about significance of numbers, how the triangle formed by the Village served as a reminder of our path to God, and the powers of the mystics. This is where I, as a journalist and a historian, started to get annoyed. He provided no proof of the sources of his ideas. (Here are some of the official lectures on the topics.)

We stood in the main living area of what became the Sister’s House. Eventually we ended up in the Meeting Room. We were *locked in* the building, so strangers who had not purchased the tour could not wander in. I know this because the Dutchy man needed to leave and he could not without interrupting the tour.

I faded in and out of the door mentally because my legs were hurting at about an eight. When we left the meeting room and entered the add-on kitchen, I was ready to fight the sweet little old ladies for a space on the small bench. My heartrate had been soaring since we started the tour (130s when standing and 110 when seated) probably in response to the pain. There was room for all of us.

Interior of the Meeting House (saal, meaning “room.”)

At this point, my plan was to sneak out of the tour when he let us out of the building and to tell Gayle to take her time as I would sit outside and read my book. But it turned out the tour was only to this building.

Our tour guide unlocked the door at 3:40 p.m.

The repercussions

By the time I went to bed, my pain levels had reached a nine. They are between a six and seven today and I’m taking it easy. I think my body has forgotten how to walk. As a person who deals with spasticity, which means my muscles in my legs never relax, I have a theory. This is the first long walk I’ve taken probably in years, certainly since I started taking muscle relaxers. It’s the first long walk I’ve taken since I started fitness training with Andrew, and even more certainly, the first I’ve taken since he had to pause our sessions several months ago. And I sit at a desk now, 8-10 hours a day, seven days a week, and walk 3,500 to 5,000 steps a day.

So, sure I overdid it.

But I still maintain that I have never moved the way I moved yesterday. I fried my adductors.

Hard to believe for several months from 2020-2021 I was a picker in the Stitch Fix warehouse where I walked miles and miles and miles every night, five days a week.

For more about this trip and some discussion of books, printing and those arts at the Cloisters, see ParisianPhoenix.com.

The little weird lucky things

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Yesterday ended up being a strange day. Strange in happy ways, I guess, and I’m afraid I don’t have any photos to accompany this post. But you will see some familiar characters.

I went to visit Nan in the morning. She’s been having some technology failures and is trying to rescue her remaining files from her Braille N Speak. Her current model is dying. So we did some dictation to save some items.

Then, I stopped at CVS. I thought I had $5, $3 and $2 in Extra Bucks with one of them expiring that day, but my phone only showed $3, $2 and $0.04. I went back to the pharmacy window and to pick up my allergy medicine. This spring has been awful for me.

The tech who served me, I had never seen her before, and she saw my $35 tab and suggested I try GoodRX. She found it for $17.24 (which happened to be my house number growing up, see previous post. I like numbers). So she saved me twenty bucks!

I meandered through the store looking for snacks, as my cupboard is bare. I noticed notebooks on clearance for 90 percent off. I texted The Teenager to ask if she could use them or if I brought them home would she just hoard them… She said she would hoard them until the start of next semester.

I got her return text as I was standing near the Nature Valley Granola bars. CVS had a couple varieties on sale for $1.99 a box. I grabbed two boxes of peanut butter biscuits. That and some notebooks (five) at 45 cents each came out to $1.17 after my $3, $2, and $0.04. But at the register, I noticed my $5 off coupon that I couldn’t see on my phone. So I paid, and went back into the store and found my favorite KIND breakfast bars for $2 off. After my $5, that came out to $0.99.

In the afternoon, I visited my neurosurgeon to follow up on my aneurysm. And read the results of my MRA in early May. I got a parking spot right outside the door! At the hospital complex! THAT never happens!

I arrived early, hoping to read more of my nonfiction marketing book that is getting on my nerves. They took me back early. And the doctor showed up early! I was out of the office start to finish in less than 30 minutes, which was only 15 minutes past my original appointment time. And good news– what looked like an aneurysm behind my left eye according to the CT scan did not show up on the MRA.

Then I met Southern Candy at a local park and in the evening, The Teenager, the neighbor and I took Little Dog for ice cream after a dental and having some teeth pulled.

The Rocket Ship Construction Zone

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

I had an MRI this morning.

It was my first MRI, to monitor an aneurysm in my brain discovered last year during my random heart issues. Last year they did a CT scan with contrast as I did not know if tooth implants would count as metal. (It does not. They are non-ferrous. I learned this as a more-or-less universal fact from the radiology tech. And to think I made my poor dentist research the screw in my mouth.)

When I called to schedule a few weeks ago, they asked where I wanted to receive an MRI and I chose the hospital that is 600 steps away from my front door. They offered me an appointment at 7:15 a.m. on a Sunday. I agreed.

Roll out of bed, wander to the hospital, get an MRI, and be home while it’s still early for a cup of coffee.

And that is indeed how it played out, and I had my coffee in my hand before 8 a.m.

On the walk over, I noticed this Subura station wagon from Vermont with roses on the hood. Now, between the apartment building across the street and the hospital itself, one finds a lot of out-of-state cars and doctors-in-training. And while I did not linger long enough to read what was written on the windshield, it said something like “you and me forever” and someone had laid a wrapped bouquet of roses on the hood. A marriage proposal? A stalker? A farewell from a lover returning to a place far away as a promise to come back?

I surely hope they aren’t roses, because leaving roses on the hood of a car in the middle of the city in the rain, especially if it’s a marriage proposal is certainly both romantic and stupid.

I arrived at the hospital around 6:50, in part because I know they ask you to register at the front desk and then meander through the facility to reach the waiting room of your particular appointment where you start the registering process again. There are usually insurance card checks, and headshots taken to prevent fraud.

I walk in the front doors and there’s one person, in a hospital t-shirt, sitting right inside. Before I even have a chance to pause or plot a course, she greets me with, “Are you hear for an MRI?”

I say yes, and then she follows with, “Is your name Angel?”

I again say yes.

Now, I know this particular hospital doesn’t do much hospital-ing. They literally only have one floor of inpatient services, and I experienced that last year. I must say the renovations are looking gorgeous, again, nothing like the room I stayed in last year straight out of mid-twentieth-century Americana. At this early hour on Sunday morning, there is no one in the hospital but me and this employee, Rose. No one.

“As soon as I clock in, I’ll take you back,” Rose says. “But we have a few minutes. So have a seat.”

I sit behind Rose in the waiting area in front of the not-even-staffed-yet registration desk.

“That’s fine,” I say. “I’ll read my book.”

I have a lovely conversation about Rose, her retirement from one of the larger hospitals in the network, and how she has really enjoyed reading again since her retirement. She clocks in and escorts me upstairs and down the hall to the MRI suite where I sit in another waiting room and Rose greets the staff who are arriving with us for their shift.

I sit and read my book, and the techs come for me. For the first time ever, I am given hospital pants. I peel off my civilian layers and tie on my gown and pants.

Much to my relief they have a metal detector as the final phase of the pre-MRI adventure. I am pleased to report I am not magnetic.

So many of these tests come with so much hype, and I have to say, I think I prefer the MRI to the CT with contrast, because an MRI doesn’t make me feel like I’m about to or in the middle of urinating in my pants.

And they tell you to stay as still as you can– which always makes me super aware of every twitch in my body.

They warn you that the machine is loud and they give you ear protection. If I had to describe the experience I would say space rocket meets construction site. And so many different types of squealing, clanging and banging.

Two weeks later… April reflections

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

It’s no secret that time mutates according to your age and stage of life, or maybe as we get older our mental sharpness as it relates to time fades.

I normally try to share the adventures, the decisions, and the flavors of life with a bent toward advocacy and speaking up not only for oneself but also for creatures unable to do so.

The weather is experiencing schizophrenia as I recover from several weeks of conferences, class appearances and meetings. Friday night we had a freeze warning and today it’s 86 degrees.

I haven’t been keeping up with my workouts, at first due to a sternum injury that just healed this week, and now I’m afraid I won’t have the finances to go back. I also haven’t kept up with my medical team– mostly out of fear of medical bills and knowing that I have an MRI scheduled for my brain aneurysm next week. I will have to pay for that out of pocket, but I’m hoping that will cover my deductible.

Nobody wants to hear about those struggles. We all have struggles like that but I will tell you one thing: the less financial security I have in terms of a standard 9 to 5 job, the simpler my needs become. And so far, as New Age laws and the Bible all say, the universe always provides enough. Or maybe we learn to be content with less. Or our priorities shift. It’s been seven-and-a-half months since I lost my full-time job, and in some ways, not doing physical labor every day has made my life better.

But in other ways, it certainly makes the unknown in my life that much scarier.

I don’t know what has given me the guts to forge this path of pursuing my own business (Parisian Phoenix Publishing) but I do know that now, when I feel stress, I also have the power to do something about it. When life at my non-profit jobs or my warehouse job got stressful, what control did I have?

Now, I at least have that freedom to change direction as I see fit.

I am the boss in charge of using and selling my skills and talents.

Hopefully the world sees that.

And I have the opportunity to work in spaces like Panera Bread, my sunporch and at my desk with my jelly fish lamp.

And if you’ve seen my jelly fish lamp, then you know, it’s pretty cool.

Occasionally times might be lean, and we might get creative and inventive with food. Such as last night’s casserole? mexi-corn dish? I called it a concoction.

Angel’s Mexi-Corn Concoction

I’m not positive but I think one could locate all of these ingredients at the dollar store. My local dollar store is The Dollar Tree.

In one pan, start one cup rice. When I added the rice, I also added a sprinkle of chili powder and parsley. I use real rice so I covered that and reduced to a simmer.

In a small skillet, I combined:

  • One can, about 6 ounces, of white meat chicken
  • One can creamed corn
  • probably two ounces mild cheese*
  • black pepper
  • smoked paprika (if you are doing the dollar store you might only find regular paprika)
  • a touch of the chili powder

*cheese might be the one ingredient not available at the dollar store. I added it to thicken the corn and make it creamier versus juicy if that makes sense

I stirred that and made it into a sauce.

Then, I opened a can of refried beans.

I layered the dish so that the beans were on the bottom, the rice in the middle and the corn sauce on top, but it turned out surprisingly satisfying and so I mixed it into a big, old mess.

What I really wanted was extra creamy mac and cheese, but I thought that would use up all the cheese and milk in my house and so I pulled out random ingredients and tried to replicate the savory, creamy textures but with more nutritional value than just cheese and pasta. I have been eating some sort of pasta or cheese dish for lunch for weeks now.

Yes, you might look at this and think it “weird” but I enjoy a culinary challenge of using up what you’ve got before going out and buying more. And I’m tired and just don’t feel like going to the store.

Never a good idea to perform CPR on oneself

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I have been staring at this blank screen for two days– staring at nothing but a title. Yes, the one you see up there.

As many of you already know I am a perpetual fall risk.

I have been trying for about two years to study and track when I fall. I have monitored the effects of my blood pressure, my allergies and even sodium, and now upon looking at the fall data from my Apple Watch I suspect hormones and the full moon may have an impact. Like the ocean and the tides, I suppose.

Sunporch as a cat haven

It has been almost a year since I bought this Apple Watch and it has been a year, a week and a couple days since I was last discharged from the hospital– my first ever hospitalization for a fall.

On Sunday, I went out to my sunporch, and a cat had vomited on one of my new chairs so I went to clean it. And after scrubbing the cat vomit out of the chair, I went to throw it into the garbage can that we keep on the porch as part of our package opening station.

Now, this is where I understand but I don’t understand. I knew and saw that the metal supports for one of the dog’s place-stay platforms were in front of the garbage can. Somehow, I caught my foot on it (Can we blame cerebral palsy or could it have happened to anyone?) and I tripped. Unable to catch my balance, I fell.

Sunporch last Christmas

I landed with my hands in fists against my sternum, as if giving CPR to myself. I landed on a large block of stone that forms the step to my front door. The edge of the stone block hit underneath my breasts at the spot where a bra band should be, but I was in my pajamas.

I knocked my elbow pretty badly (it’s bruised and bumpy) and I cut my leg and bruised my foot. But that blow to my chest– my full body weight– knocked the wind out of me. I walked into the house slowly and somehow ended up on the floor curled up against the dishwasher crying in pain as I pulled up my pajamas to see if I had any visible damage.

I did not.

But it hurt. It left my nerves shaken as these falls often do and it was VERY uncomfortable to sleep that night. I woke up in the morning curled up on my side so I took that as a good sign. It hurt mildly to stretch my arms or cough or laugh, but all-in-all I felt okay.

Today, I woke up feeling worse. I put on a workout top that supports everything so the weight of my breasts doesn’t add more discomfort. But it definitely hurts worse. And walking is uncomfortable. Walking fast enough and long enough to increase my breathing often makes me stop and wait.

On top of all that, I got on a scale today. I’ve gained another 10 pounds. I wish I could say I didn’t know how that was possible. But I know. I can’t believe I’ve gained another 10 pounds in about three weeks.

So I went back to calorie counting today. And more importantly nutrient and macro “counting.”

Hopefully tomorrow will be less painful– because I have a job interview for a little something that might fit nicely into my life.

The follow-up and the next fall

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Yesterday, I visited my primary care physician. He was thrilled because my blood pressure has stayed at 100-110/70 for the last six months. I am disappointed that my weight has not budged.

Around the last snow storm, I noticed my sinus troubles got so bad that only a day of Sudafed would stop my sneezing (see more here or via the publishing company’s Substack newsletter here) and that since then the mild lightheadness and congestion have not abated. And since I took a flying leap out the warehouse door March 1, 2023 and following that with stair acrobatics at home March 13, I had to ask my doctor– could my sinuses be contributing to my fall risk more than we realize?

So, he changed up my allergy medicine to move me from OTC remedies to prescription medication.

I also mentioned that my heart rate has been stable, even when I have no caffeine or overindulge in the stuff, and that salt has a strong effect on my heart and my weight. But I was no closer to keeping my heart rate under control first thing in the morning.

He asked me to tweak my beta blocker routine to take it before I get out of bed in the morning. And to be completely attentive to it at night. For a month, I am to take both half-pill doses as close to 7 o’clock as possible to see if that prevents my heart rate from jumping from 60 to 80 when I sit up, and then from having another jump from 80 to 100 when I stand. If that balances out my heart rate, he may move me to an extended release medication to maintain my heart rate. Especially since I have a small aneurysm in my brain.

The new allergy medicine he put me on– shifting me from Zyrtec and Flonase to prescription strength Claritin and Nasonex– was ready at my pharmacy by dinner time last night.

“It’s a preferred medication of your insurance,” my doctor said, “so it shouldn’t cost you too much.”

So, the teenager and I took the dog on a walk to CVS this morning where the generics of these two medications, for a one-month supply, cost $93. I know my Zyrtec and Flonase probably cost similar– but I never pay full-price. I use coupons and extra bucks and buy the generic, and on top of all that buy the twin pack and split it with my friend Nancy.

We walk home, and I don’t really complain about the price because I need to know if sinuses are increasing my fall risk and I want to know if I can reduce that risk so the investment is worth it.

On the way home, the dog was frolicking on a small hill, and she came trotting down to catch up with the teenager. She misjudged or maybe lost her footing and raced down the hill right at me, hit me in the legs and sent me flying. I landed on the sidewalk. My knee has a hearty scrape, my hands are sore, and my nervous system is done for the day.

Welcome February or “Wow, it’s been a month!”

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I didn’t realize– or perhaps deep down inside I did– that I did not write in this blog at all in the month of January. I have written in the Parisian Phoenix blog, on my Substack, for the Lehigh Valley Armchair Substack, for Kiss and Tell magazine, for press releases and social media…

But not here.

I have spent much time applying for jobs, going on job interviews, and following up with second interviews, and working with my authors at our small publishing company, attending networking events, meeting with other writers and professionals, and grocery shopping at discount retailers like Grocery Outlet and the Dollar Tree.

(Grocery budget has been $25/week, but this week I splurged and bought a baker’s dozen bagels for $9.50 at Panera because they have a sale on Tuesday, and I used my CVS coupons and their sales to buy 2 boxes of KIND breakfast bars, a box of Grape Nuts and a box of Cocoa Krispies for $13.)

My personal favorite cheap meal this month has been these gnocchi from the Dollar Tree, served with a cream sauce I made with butter, lemon, and some artichoke hearts (using the oil they were marinated in). The artichoke hearts and the Barber Foods Chicken Stuffed with Broccoli and Cheese came from Grocery Outlet. The whole meal cost me about $3 per serving. And I used up some half and half that was on its last leg.

If it weren’t for car insurance for the teen and heat (I’ve been keeping the house at a balmy 60 degrees since I had to pay for $600 in furnace repairs in December), I have enough clients to keep me afloat indefinitely even after unemployment runs out in about six weeks. But the uncertainty of it all is hard. My biggest faux pas since my lay off was dropping the oil cap into the engine compartment of my car while topping off my fluids before a winter storm.

Luckily, good old Southern Candy and her son came to my aid and he fished it out for me– took him 45 minutes and the promise of the $50 cash I had in my wallet. I could hear my Dad laughing the entire time. I swear he’s been playing practical jokes on me from the afterlife with all of these little mechanical problems.

Like he’s checking to make sure I can take care of myself.

Sometimes, Daddy, I don’t know.

We had two snowstorms in January. During one of which, the first actually, one of the Teenager’s college friends spent the night. (Photo: Here they are at about 10 p.m. having a snowball fight with one of our neighbors, a high school friend of the Teen.) The College Friend hails from Los Angeles, so this was her first snow. And we bundled her up in home-knit hats and gloves and sent her out to shovel and play in my snow boots. Because Lord knows I am not going out in that if I don’t have to.

I drove over to the Bizzy Hizzy, the now nearly empty Stitch Fix warehouse, to show my daughter the old Freestyle and Pick carts that had been set out for the trash. The carts are laminated, corrugated cardboard so I imagined they deflated pretty badly in all the rain. I explained to her how we used to pick, and showed her the pencil cans we used to hold our water bottles and the heavy-duty page protectors that held the pack slips after installation of the Big Ass Fans blew them out of the carts. Three years, evaporated and erased.

I’m still working out with Andrew at Apex Training and meeting my strength goals even if I am failing at my weight goals. The Teen says I need to be more body-positive, but I know I am regularly showing more than 500 garbage calories into my body for the emotional sensation of it. And I also know that as someone with heart and mobility issues, being overweight is not helping.

In good news though, because I share so much about my journal both as someone with cerebral palsy and someone who finds strength training cool and empowering, several other members of my gym are now setting strength goals and strength training into their routines.

While visiting Nan the other day I got to meet a really cute dog. She’s a French sheep dog. Nan and her owner both told me her breed and now I don’t remember. I asked Siri and she suggested a Wheaten Terrier or a Goldendoodle and both of those are wrong. So, I googled French sheep dog breeds and it suggested a few and I immediately recognized the word “Briard.” And it is indeed a dog that would get stuck in briars.

And last week, the Echo City guys and I went out to Pints & Pies for burgers for the guys and pizza for me. It was a very tasty pizza. I have been dreaming of it and the cold Yuengling draft I had ever since.

The chiropractor, the dentist & the OVR counselor

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Greetings, my dear readers.

Today I had a lovely day with the chiropractor, then the dentist (then an iced coffee at Panera) and email exchanges with my OVR counselor.

So this will be a discussion of health, disability and my job search. I’m at the midpoint of my unemployment benefits and I’m freaking out a little.

Let’s back up…

I have only been visiting my beloved chiropractor (who used to be a physical therapist) Nicole Jenson of Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center every three weeks or so, in part because without the physical labor of my warehouse job and without any complications in my gait I have not needed her. (And that’s kind of great because I also have terrible health insurance right now and no job.)

But today I went to see her, and she was very relieved to hear that my condition has been good and I have not had a fall since Sept. 30. And this was my second visit in a row with no symptoms to report. She was also very impressed with my progress with my fitness and strength coach Andrew at Apex Training. He has been pushing me hard with the weights and the core exercises all because of some pre-New Year’s resolutions we made at the gym.

  • Get weight under 150 (oh, how I was so close and failed so hard. I got down to 156 and stress ate my way to a new high)
  • Bench press 100 pounds (and I’m at 95 with more than a week to go)
  • Squat 150 pounds (Andrew sneaked this one in, and I have no idea if I’m near it)
  • Plank for 2 minutes (personal best currently at 1:10)

A dear friend pointed out that some of my exercise-induced asthma symptoms might actually be connected to caffeine intake, and Nicole definitely concurred that I needed to watch that also because of my balance issues.

And I’m still doing really well with balance and walking thanks to Andrew’s “lead with the knees” guidance.

After leaving Nicole’s, I headed to my six-month check up at the dentist. My dentist recently sold her practice– and she’s been my dentist for almost 35 years– but luckily the new dentist seems personable, smart and efficient. The staff complimented me on taking care of my beautiful teeth, to which I laughed and said, “really, let’s thank genetics because my dental habits are not what they once were.”

Then, at 1 p.m., I grabbed a KIND breakfast bar out of my bag for breakfast and headed through the Panera drive-through for an iced coffee. They offered a $3 per month subscription to their unlimited sip club for three months, and I love Panera’s iced coffee. So I treated myself. I had a meeting at Panera with the Echo City Team on Friday and I subscribed Friday a.m. I have since gone two more times.

By the time I got home, I had an email waiting from my OVR counselor. I decided that since I have some disability-related concerns about finding the right job for my next move, I would apply for assistance from the Office of Vocational Rehab. That way, the state knows I am doing everything I can to find a job. I spoke with my counselor on the phone yesterday, and had her chuckling. She said I am not her typical client, and in a way, it sounded like she was intrigued by seeing what she could do for me.

I compiled all the initial paperwork, and gave her another round today based on her subsequent requests. She’s had some interesting ideas on what her office might be able to do.

Then tonight at the gym, I was doing dumbbell rows with a 40-pound dumbbell and doing incline presses with a 35-pound dumbbell in each hand.

All things fitness, mobility and service dog

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

The last week or so I feel like my strength in the gym (Apex Training) has been dead on– the lifts have come easily and even as my feet/lower body doesn’t cooperate, I seem to get the job done without compromising my other body parts. Andrew, my fitness trainer and strength coach, has been a wonderful support and motivator as life has gotten dramatic and hectic for both of us.

Today I lifted a new PR on bench press– I am up to 80 pounds! As for flexibility and core strength, from my angle it fluctuates every day but Andrew points out a lot of his observations which suggest I am improving more than I might realize. I have noticed that I stumble less, even as my toes drag and my balance falters, knock on wood I have not fallen since Sept. 30.

I have gained back all of the weight I lost, between gin sours and peanut m&m’s and all sorts of chips from the Dollar Tree. And too much pizza! Even with The Teenager home after having her wisdom teeth plus a back molar removed, I’m still eating too much junk– milkshakes, cheese curds, the Wawa chicken fingers and french fries, Macs received for free with minimum purchase of a Diet Coke for me and a Sprite for the Teen all in the name of surgery recovery.

Meanwhile, I can see my muscles gain definition so I know if I’d stop putting junk in my body ALL THE TIME, I could really lean out and have great tone. But the immediate satisfaction of treats and savory, salty foods steals my discipline and knowledge every time.

As if that alone weren’t enough to kick my ass back where it needs to be, I’m starting to believe that the occasional out-of-breath episodes I’m having are symptoms of exercise-induced asthma. My allergies have been bad. The weight doesn’t help. And I noticed more and more that it comes on all of a sudden, even when I’m walking on a flat surface setting my own pace and not with anyone else, and I cannot get air into my lungs until I repeatedly take breaths through my nose and get a breath deep into my chest.

Today, it happened at the gym. I have never had anything like this happen at the gym. I was doing sets of 25 crunches on the exercise ball and really had trouble catching my breath at the end of the set. And I love those crunches! I normally knock them out like a beast!

Light Mobility Service Dog Update

Yesterday I was scheduled to meet with my caseworker at Susquehanna Service Dogs on Zoom. She asked if we could please reschedule for today and as I kept the end of the week open not knowing how the Teen would do with surgery, it worked out fine.

Today the Teen, myself and the caseworker met to discuss what my dog might be trained to do as a task for me, any concerns I might have, and some more updates about my lifestyle. The number one goal I have for this endeavor is to be able to go on walks by myself without fear. I miss my days of going for a 4-mile walk in the morning. I want that piece of mind. The other tasks that I asked for are help retrieving things from the ground when I can’t bend, carrying items I might have in my hand if I find myself struggling for balance, and getting a first aid kit if I need one.

Pregaming Thanksgiving

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

If you miss my ridiculous banter, you may want to visit ParisianPhoenix.com because most of my activities now relate to the publishing company because I’m trying to develop enough business to make a living now that Stitch Fix has closed its Bethlehem warehouse.

Speaking of Stitch Fix, one of my friends who has gotten fixes religiously since I started with the company got an email today that whatever warehouse shipped her fix instead of ours did not scan the package as it left the facility so neither Stitch Fix nor the carrier has a record of it. Therefore, if she does not receive a fix today or tomorrow, she is to let them know as then they have reason to believe it is lost.

Yup. Did I ever mention that we were the most efficient, safest working warehouse in the network?

Random Cat Photo:
Touch of Gray

Anyway, back to my day. I started my day assisting the Teenager with course registration at her college. She is studying BS psychology and had a good plan. She had courses and backup courses and I planned on catching up with my NaNoWriMo word count (if you don’t know what NaNo is or you have opinions about the NaNo controversary, my take is here) before meeting Nan and a poet friend.

She could not get into ANY of her classes, nor ANY of her backups, nor ANY classes at all in her department. With my help, we found Intro to Women’s/Gender/Sexuality studies, Theory of Religion and Intro to Sociology. She’s also hoping– but probably doesn’t have a chance–to get into astronomy. The professor was on of her pet-sitting clients.

With this new course load, I think she should apply for an interdisciplinary major of her own design, the new BA in Cult Leadership.

I managed to pull 500 words for my novel before heading out to get Nan.

I decided to give Nan her “Christmas present” early. I put that in quotes because I would have gotten it for her regardless of the season. It kept popping up on the available Amazon Vine items that I can review. If you’ve heard about Nan enough, I probably don’t have to tell you she LOVES NASA. She has followed the space program since before man landed on the moon.

Nan won’t go out for the day if there’s a NASA event going on. She has cable simply so she can watch NASA TV.

I got her a decorative desk piece that has an astronaut on the moon with some sort of moon lander or rover. And the space suit has a ledge where you can place your cell phone and the lander thing is a pencil can. The most impractical gift for a blind person. It’s a sculpture you can’t see, with features for items you don’t use.

I’m relieved to say– she loved it. She loves that she can put her two pens that she keeps for sighted friends on her desk. She loves that the sculpture has enough detail that she can look at it. And she loves that for the first time, she has something space-themed she can display.

We took it up to her room and arranged it on her desk and headed to our appointment. We had made arrangements to meet a new friend, we’ll call her the Italian Poet. We were workshopping some of her poems.

Now here’s some motivation/inertia for you: If you write, paint, photograph, whatever, you must find others who share your artistic sensibilities and draw from their energy. Sometimes you share feedback, sometimes you seek inspiration together. Sometimes you learn, sometimes you teach. But the union of people in a space can build spirits and keep you going.

And after Italian Poet encouraged me to pursue my educational goals and I prodded her to finish her Ph.D., Nan and I embarked on our annual tradition: Gobbler bowls at Wawa.

We live a simple existence. Then we taste-tested a peppermint watermelon sparkling water. Nan did not approve. I did. But, as Nan says, I do seek out the weird stuff.

The Teenager used Nan and I for a photography project.

I went to the gym for leg day where I squat 120 pounds on the barbell for eight solid reps. Definitely liking that!’