Oh wouch.

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I was to bed before midnight. That usually allows me to wake and get off to at least a decent start. I simply could not rise today. I set the alarm, initially, for 8:00. I reset it for 10:00, then noon. I finally just turned the damned thing off, waking a bit before 13:00. Still tired, a bit cranky mood-wise, I sit here trying to wake up. I've been through the blogs. I hope my comments haven't been too stupid, have too many misspellings, or been too off-track or off-key. I never know.

I have dinner planned for this evening. I have a few dishes I would like to do up, but I do mean just a few. I had hoped to clean up more of my home this morning but there isn't time and I am not making it to wakefulness fast enough to get to much. I have been doing much work, comparative to the very recent days, but far less than the month before my recent fall. Perhaps I just did too much too fast as I came back into the game. I will keep on it though, if and when I can.

Bother! I'll get a shower shortly. Perhaps that will help. If I can do a few things so be it. Vacuuming would be nice, sweeping (at least, maybe mopping) would be good. I just can't focus, wake up, think. I think, at least for me, my heart function is variable. Either that or it passes function around to various parts. Without the right set of parts getting the little bit of oxygen/energy production needed, I simply can't do as much? Yeah, possibly. I wish I could at least know and plan, or even have some input into the scheduling. As is I just have to hope I can do what I need to do when I need to do it and live with the consequences should it all fail. Unless my heart improves up to 50% to 70% of function I doubt if much will change. A minor improvement would probably only extend my life a bit. Then again I have been living with a heart that absolutely should have failed by now. Life isn't in our, or the world's, hands. Life is a God thing. One of the things I know about God is that we cannot understand. Thus goes life.

One last thing. I had quit weighing myself daily because it had become very frustrating. I had already consumed a half gallon of fluids, something which usually makes me not want to weigh in. I decided to forgo my usual method and stepped on the scale. I am down to 274, twenty pounds off my recent high, dressed save for shoes, and with an half gallon of Gatorade down my gullet. My goal is 265, plus or hopefully minus a few pounds. At that point I would like to more seriously begin to exercise. Since I build muscle very quickly I will do measurements, along with weight, to check my progress. My weight goes haywire when I begin working out, even just a bit. Three months of working out, the last time I did it seriously, saw me gain 50 pounds. I lost some fat (around my middle where it all seems to go) too. I could tell by pants and underwear fit. But it is difficult to track what is coming off and what is going on, at least by weight alone. Ten pounds and I am going to try and hit it again, and hit it as hard as I can. I might see if there is a pool in Logan which would allow a dying man a chance to redeem himself.

Have a good one. Later.