You know what my current fear is? That if I don’t take the recommended meds (statins, in this case), that the Dr. will refuse to order any more blood tests! Silly, I know, but it was just a thought that crossed my mind.
I’m afraid if I take time to walk 5 miles a day, I’ll never have time to do anything else. Of course, if I don’t walk that much, maybe I won’t even live long enough to do anything else! My mother walked five miles a day during the last several years of her life, and she still died before she was 70. I’ll be 70 in another 15 months.
There. I’m being honest.
I’m feeling suddenly slapped in the face with reality, just like when I was first officially diagnosed, 15 years ago. Only this time it’s not just a gentle suggestion that I should take a leisurely stroll of 30 minutes 3 times a week, but a mandate that I walk a minimum of 5 miles (aka 10,000 steps) a day, every day, 7 days a week, if I don’t want to die! And not just that I keep a bottle of water handy in case I get thirsty, but that I force myself to chug down 4 or 5 bottles (500 mL), total of 2 liters minimum.
Well, I can’t do it in June or July. My life was already pre-planned to be consumed. But in August I can step it up a notch or two. Or a bunch of notches. That will be the crucial transition time, from 1500 steps/day to 10,000. A seemingly impossible feat!
Then I’ll have a break over a long Labor Day weekend, not a break from walking or water, but a disconnect from phone, internet, and electricity. Paper only for 6 days. And walking. Always walking, the only device allowed being a pedometer.
