The New Me

This is me around August 1, 2010, when I suspect I was at my heaviest. I have to figure I'm an easy 305-310 here:

And this is me today, May 5, 2014:

Granted, the weight came off in chunks. I made a bargain with a friend to lose weight around this time, and the easy 20 came off in the Autumn of that year. Then the stroke took me down to about 265, and since February 1st or so I've lost about another 40 so far (I figure I'm around 228 as it stands right now). That means I've lost more or less 80 pounds since the uppermost pictures.

I guess the best way to describe how I'm doing it is, I'm just paying attention to my Diabetes. I have found that as long as you eat the right foods (or perhaps better put, abstain from the wrong ones), the weight kind of takes care of itself. And since I've realized what had to be done, the weight has just flown off of me. I'm losing about 5 pounds every six weeks, which is to my mind a perfect weight-loss rate.

My mindset toward food has changed on a pretty fundamental level. At this point, I view food as nothing more than sustenance. Now, you skinny people will look at that sentence and ask, with all good intentions, "What the hell else is food, if not sustenance?" Well, most if not all overweight people eat for a myriad of reasons other than hunger, and they know exactly what I mean. Food is a crutch, a friend, a presser of the pleasure button, something to be luxuriated in. I should know - I've been overweight my entire life.  For a fat person to change his attitude toward food so radically, in such a short period of time, is remarkable. I mean, once before I lost a fair amount of weight but it never changed how I felt about food - I just summoned the will to overcome it. Now I just have a different attitude towards it.

In fact, come to think of it, I have a different attitude towards EVERYTHING. I'm no longer the miserable troll eking out a lonely existence in his basement. I'm now a happy, reasonably well-adjusted troll eking out a lonely existence in his basement. But even that might be changing soon. For I have announced to a few choice friends of mine that I am once again looking for gainful employment and hope soon to adopt a more or less normal diurnal rhythm, not entirely unlike most human beings.

It's safe to say that everything about me is changed. And I am really, REALLY looking forward to what the next year will bring. When I think of what I will be in a year - who I will be - I want to press the fast-forward button and be there.

I guess, though, I'll just enjoy the walk, on this bright, bright sun-shiney day.

Requiem: Vincent Astolfi

My father-in-law, Vince, passed away last Thursday morning. His death wasn't unexpected, but my experience is that doesn't often matter a whole lot.

He was in the grip of Alzheimer's, and this particular flavor of it shut off his body quicker than most. Toward the end he was only good for a few words before his battery would wear down. For example our last exchange, this past Christmas, consisted of him saying "Hey, Gary," with perfect clarity. When I answered him, he was unable to say - or to remember - what he wanted to say.

It was very sad to watch. And I knew that I would not be seeing him again when we left.

Vince was a good man, like so many of his generation. He loved his children beyond reason, and sometimes worked two jobs to provide for them. He actually loved all the children of his family, every niece, nephew, and cousin. We remarked after looking through hundreds of pictures just how many were of him holding babies, teasing toddlers, dancing at weddings. He raised his grandson, my nephew, like his own son. If you were a member of his family, you got his unconditional love and support, and that extended to his in-laws.

He was a musician, and a good one. His band made a few radio appearances, even appeared on TV once. I asked him once what he could play, and he told me "I can play anything, as long as it's in A," which is pretty funny if you're a musician.  He had a beautiful 1956 Gibson SJ, in tobacco sunburst with mother-of-pearl inlay on the fretboard. He must have known the value of his guitar, being around other musicians for decades. But when the time came that his teenage son expressed an interest, he unhesitatingly handed it over for his use.  It is still in great condition, and once again in Joey's possession, this time permanently.

I have a picture of him playing it (playing an A chord, of course). It's very cool.

He was a man of very few words, but always the right ones. He would never, and I mean NEVER, use five words when he could use four. But for being so taciturn he wasn't reticent about his love for his family. He would end every interaction with his family, in person or on the phone, with "I love you."

As the disease took him, and he was able to say and do less and less, those near him report that he would sometimes say absolutely nothing during an entire visit, but when it was time to leave he would always say "I love you."

Especially towards the last few months of his life, we weren't 100% sure what he still knew. But he knew he loved his family, by god. Nothing could take that away from him.

Vincent J. Astolfi was 82, and my wife and I will both miss him.

Country Boy Vince

My Last Strokey Update

Yesterday I had an appointment with my neurologist, which consisted of him taking 45 seconds to perform a perfunctory neurological examination and a 10 minute chat, which, yes, did have something to do with my health but mostly concerned itself with our respective plans for Passover. After the conversational Afikomen was recovered and paid for*, he suggested tactfully that I no longer needed his services. So it's official: I am no longer under the care of a neurologist. Woo hoo! So I thought I'd just wrap up the whole stroke thing with a final update about my cerebrovascular health and put it lock stock and barrel where it belongs, in the rear-view mirror.

The main reason why I had the stroke - runaway hypertension - is well-controlled. My diabetes is similarly well-managed. The pain in my left hip has lessened as my weight goes down and the weather turns warmer.

The impact the stroke has had on my life physically is minimal. I have the odd moment where I lose my balance; I would not wish to try my luck on the balance beam or a rope ladder. I have some very small fine-muscle control issues in my left hand. My penmanship has changed; it's not messier than it was before (I doubt that's even possible) but it is different. I can still play the guitar but my repertoire is restricted to campfire singalongs and other fare that doesn't require fingerpicking, soloing, or, you know, talent.

But that's it. In so many ways it's like the stroke never happened. I can honestly say my recovery has been 99% comprehensive. And I'm pleased with that, bet your ass I am.

Anyway, there you go. Thanks for listening. Go see a doctor if you haven't recently.
___
*If you're a Jew, that's pretty funny, right there.

A Good Memory

Editor's Note: I posted this as my status on the Eff Bee, and people seemed to like it, so I thought I'd bring it over here.

Because, if you know anything about me, you know that I can't just post a picture without telling a story:

In 2004 when the Red Sox won the World Series, I got it in my head that I needed to be at the park on Opening Day 2005 to see them get their rings and raise the banner. This was a problem as ticket prices, never exactly low, were ridiculously, stupidly high. The finance committee would never approve an outlay of that kind, so I was left to find an alternate plan.

"I know," I thought to myself. "I'll just win this upcoming poker tournament, and the money will flow through my hands like water, and with it I shall purchase two of the hottest tickets in town."

Well, they say the good Lord protects children and fools, and I guess that happened here because that's exactly how it went down. And for $1200, I was given the privilege of purchasing two of, arguably, the worst seats in the house - box 92, row UU, seats 11 and 12. If you know Fenway Park, you know that these seats, rather than facing home plate like baseball seats are suposed to, instead face the center field wall, making you keep your head turned left for three solid hours. But I didn't care; I was in.

Naturally I was beset with friends - real and otherwise - looking for an invitation to be my companion for the day. But I knew pretty much right away whom I was going to invite. The man who gave me my love of baseball in the first place: my father.

As April 11ths go around these parts, it was sunny and warmer than usual. For a miracle we found a place to park and made it in time to watch the ring ceremony and the raising of the World Series banner. That was the day that the Fenway crowd gave Mariano Rivera that sarcastic cheer as a thanks for blowing two saves in the ALCS. As an extra added bonus the Red Sox stomped the Yankees 8-1 that day. It was as close to a perfect day as it gets. It remains one of my life's sweetest memories. Similarly this picture, taken by some corporate yahoo who kept checking his phone and leaving for two innings at a time to buy souvenirs, is one of my most prized possessions.

Thanks for coming with me, Dad.

Two Things That Happened Twenty Years Ago Today

1. Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play.
2. I got married.

Some news

I wish I could bring you a story of triumph against overwhelming odds, but Josie's godson and nephew Joseph lost his battle on February 27th. Joe was 26.

I was asked to keep this message short but I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Joe's last thoughts, at the very end, were of others and not himself. His final words to his loved ones were "At the end of this quest, don't lose your righteousness."

Rest in peace, Joseph.

A Change of Mind

I made mention of this on the Eff Bee, so I'll apologize in advance for those who have seen the germ of this post as a status a few days ago, but I thought I'd bring it here and discuss it in a bit more depth, because God knows, if there's a human being alive who is more in love with the sound of his own voice than I, I have yet to meet or even hear of him.

I have had a bit of a change of heart regarding something pretty fundamental. Long-time readers to this little chucklefest will have heard me lamenting the ticking clock, and my inexorable descent into old age, many more times than once. From the first creak of the knee, the first blurry line of text, I have complained about it, loudly and often.

But that's all done, I suspect. Because, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, I have had what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity.

I'm all done bitching about getting old. Because I've stumbled upon a great truth that had evaded me all my life: The opposite of old is not young. The opposite of old is DEAD. Not only is there nothing wrong with getting old, it's something that one should aspire to.

This epiphany was particularly well-timed.

I recently went to my doctor to check in with him, to get some blood drawn, and to have him cup my testicles - he's got such a gentle touch, after all. What I discovered was that while my weight was down, and my blood pressure was being well-managed, but my blood sugar was up, my cholesterol was up, and I got a benign talking-to about things, and how they could be made better. And everything just kind of clicked.

I have a difficult time with statins - they make my legs stiff and tired, and Ol' Strokey doesn't need any more help making his legs feel bad. So I had, in the past, stopped taking them. Now, I started a much slower process of acclimating my body to them, taking a half-pill every other day, then a half-pill two days out of three. I'm currently up to a half-pill every day, and I hope to titrate my dosage up to a full pill every day soon.

I've also taken a more serious approach to controlling my diabetes. Heretofore I had considered laying off the Boston Creme donuts to be the alpha and the omega of diabetes control. Now, though I can always do more, I'm staying away from the worst things for me: processed flour, white rice, anything that has a high glycemic index.

I'm doing all these things, and more, because I've come to realize something, a completely self-evident truth that a few weeks ago would have been a preposterous thought:

I would very much like to be old.

Thanks for listening. Go see a doctor if you haven't recently.