What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and boy am I out of shape.

But that is about to change, soon, I hope.

When the good doctors at the Loyola Clinical Center first informed my wife Terry and me that she does, in fact, have Alzheimer’s Disease, even though she was still in her early 50s, they told me that I was now a caregiver. And in addition to caring for my wife, they said I have to take good care of myself.

Alzheimer’s.org says that caregivers may find themselves with so many responsibilities that they neglect taking good care of themselves.

Apparently, these people know of what they speak.

Back in the late 1970s when my collegiate athletic career was over I became a runner. Okay, I became a jogger. Not quite running but faster than a brisk walk.  I even ran a 6:00 mile once. Once.

Running or jogging became very fashionable in the late 1970s, when Jim Fixx came out with his Complete Book of Running best seller. You remember, that red cover with his muscular, sculpted legs on it in a running position.

Colorful Nike running shoes were not just for the track & field athletes anymore. The average Joe and Joanne were now becoming joggers, filling the streets with short running shorts for those who could get away with it and warm-up suits for those of us who could not.

I never liked running, but after living an active collegiate life I had to find something to keep the weight off. Something to keep me in shape.  Plus, I found out the cold beer tasted that much better after a three mile run.

I guess I never did like running, but I loved having run.

When I was working as a graduate assistant in New England, having moved there from fun-in-the-sun Miami, I didn’t know anyone at first and had a lot of time on my own, so I began running.

When I met my future wife, Terry, she was the star of the college tennis team in the fall and ran on the track team in the spring.  Terry and I began our dating by running five miles together every lunchtime. Talk about your cheap dates.

When I left New England and began my current job, I continued the lunchtime running for years until my legs just couldn’t take it anymore. But I continued to work out midday, doing the old Stairmaster and playing around with the weights. Nothing serious, just something to give me a little tone.

That mid-day practice of working out continued for years, up until about a year or so ago. That is when I stopped working out and started going home every day for lunch.

It wasn’t to go home and eat, however, it was to take care of my wife.  A year or so after being diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease, she could not go an entire day by herself. I had to go home and help her manage her day.

During the last year of not working out, I gained a considerable amount of weight.  The worst part is so did Terry. For the first 37 years that I knew Terry she was 5’2”, 102 pounds. The three times she was pregnant she went from 102 to 152 pounds, but always got back to her playing weight. Terry used to teach a 6am aerobics class at the YMCA so she knew how to drop the weight.

But over the last year, she has been unable to do much of anything on her own. I would take her for occasional walks, but she was so much less active now than ever before.

With our son coming home to live with us to help me in the day-to-day caregiving, I no longer need to go home at lunchtime every day. So I began working out again.

Boy am I out of shape!

The first day working out I lasted about five minutes on the stepper machine before I had to stop. I couldn’t breathe. I thought having a heart attack on the first day of working out again might put a damper on my regiment. I walked around the track for another half hour, but lasting just five minutes on the stepper machine really surprised me. I used to do that machine for 20 minutes, hard, and I was always soaking wet afterward. That machine always kicked my butt, but it didn’t hurt my legs like running did, so it was perfect.

It is still perfect, but I am much farther away from perfect. And I no longer worry about hurting my legs. It is my heart that I worry about. Wouldn’t want it to jump out of my chest like John Hurt’s scene in Alien.

Boy am I out of shape!

I think it was Lao Tzu who said “the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.”

In my case, one stepper machine.

It is going to be a long journey, but I am going to get back in shape. But not if it kills me.

That is the whole reason why I am trying to get back in shape. My vain days are long one. Anyone of my kids will tell you that when they see what I wear to the store.

No, I am not trying to get back into shape to look better. To impress the chicks.  No, now that I have reached the BIG 6-0, I have to keep myself in good health, to stay alive, for Terry.

I am her caregiver. She needs me more now than ever before. If I died tomorrow who would take care of Terry? I don’t want to put that burden on my kids.

All three of my kids have really stepped up and helped in the caregiving. Our oldest daughter takes Terry for long walks in scenic places, trying to get Terry some needed exercise.  Our youngest daughter comes home when she can to make us nutritious meals. And our son gave up his career to come back home and live with us, to help take care of Terry.

But I am still the main caregiver. That is my job and I can’t let anything happen to me that would prevent me from fulfilling my duties.

So I am going to get back in shape, to prolong my life, to better take care of Terry.

I just have to pace myself. Like I said, having a heart attack while working out might put a damper on things.

So for now I will take it slow. So I can continue to take care of my wife.

Until next time, slow and steady wins the race, and hopefully will make me stronger rather than kill me.

Bud