In at the deep end
Right!
I had my first session today with the mob in the local [i.e. not the other side of the city] hospital.
It started off badly as I arrived on time but had a problem finding somewhere to park. I eventually found a spot and went to pay for it. In the past I have seen their clampers in action so I wasn’t taking any chances. Anyhows I discovered their Pay And Display machine wasn’t working as it just regurgitated any coin I put in. So I had to waste more time finding a machine that worked.
Then I had to try to find the Cardiac Rehabilitation Unit. Fuck me but that was a pain in the arse. I eventually found it behind a prefab which was hidden by another prefab which was hidden behind a wing of the hospital. Naturally by this time I was late. I found the room which I realised was the right place as there were two physiotherapists and seven blokes around my age looking somewhat bemused.
Anyhows, they welcomed me and wired me up. Fortunately this time I was connected to a portable machine which was strapped to my chest. They took my blood pressure and we were off.
First we had a sort of Line Dancing thing, prancing forwards and backwards and then sideways. The hardest part was synchronising my steps so I didn’t wallop into the blokes either side of me.
Then we hit the machinery. I was awarded first go on the bicycle thingy where I pedalled for a couple of miles. Just when I was getting into my stride I was switched to one of those conveyor belt yokes where i started to run. They took me off that straight away as for some reason they reckoned I was going to do myself [or the machine] some damage.
The rest of the session I was stuck on various machines where I rowed, boxed, pedalled with my arms, hopped on and off a box and generally tortured every part of me.
It did occur to me that everyone else had had a week of this and presumably they were all moving up a few levels. So I was started at a more advanced level which was mean of them.
At the end of the session I was taken aside to answer a few questions as a newcomer. Of course they asked if I smoked. The Antis spend their lives lying so it was only fair that I lied back? Fuck them.
I’m back again next Wednesday but have to go in early for a lecture on health.
I do not like being lectured at.
Well done!
It's known as a treadmill, the conveyor belt thingy. And they cost a bundle, as do rowing machines. Sounds like they're well equipped and I presume the staff are good at what they do.
Nah you didn't "hop" onto the step, however that's an easy one to replicate in your house because you have a staircase.
Anyway good on you. Four more to go.
"Four more to go" Now you're trying to provoke me! Five more weeks at three times a week means another fourteen. I'm going to be fit for nothing by the end.
The car parking and hunt-the-venue are a!l part of the process.
If that rise in blood pressure and rushed search do not kill you then you are fit enough to proceed.
And if it does kill you, well it was nothing to do with them.
I'd turn up for the health lecture with a pipe in yer mouth and a bacon buttie in yer hand!
Health lectures are often given by twenty stone nurses who have panted to get down the corridor!
How true.
Many years ago I had to take my elderly and insulin-diabetic mother to see the 'dietician' – into the room wobbled a female vat of lard on legs, accompanied by a 'trainee' who herself seemed perilously close to anorexic. In between stifling my laughter, I could only conclude that the subliminal message was, as long as you're between those two extremes, you're doing OK. I never took my mother there again, as the models they offered invalidated any advice they could ever give.
They should all be forced to do every exercise they expect us to try!
This must be the "take it easy" part? They don't want you to exert yourself at home but they'll work the hell out of you at these sessions. I sometimes wonder how many post heart attack patients dropped dead on the treadmill?
The walls in the room are plastered with notices. The biggest of all – "IN EVENT OF HEART ATTACK -Phone 8888 etc" Not very reassuring?