Rusty Saber

by Joe McAdoo

Some readers have asked me how I am getting along after my encounter with open-heart surgery this summer. Since I wrote a column about the surgery, I suppose I should followup with (apologies to Paul Harvey) "the rest of the story."

Happily, I can report that I'm doing very well. In fact, I have improved so much since coming home from the hospital that I can hardly believe it myself. One of my dearest friends told me later that at the time, I looked like I had been "ridden hard and put away wet."

He was wrong. I looked like 40 miles of unpaved road. Regardless of how I looked, I felt worse. I'd have had to get better in order to die.

Today, I feel great. It must be true that time heals all wounds (or is that wounds all heels? I never can remember which it is). In my case, exercise, along with passage of time, is playing a big role in my comeback.

If you're like me, and are bored up to your nostrils with bragging exercise junkies, relax; I'm not one of them. You know who I'm talking about, the guy in the Birkenstocks who boasts: "I never watch TV in the evening because I go to bed at 4 in the afternoon. I get up at midnight and run to Branson and back before I have raw tofu, a bran muffin and carrot juice for breakfast."

He doesn't say it, but he implies, "Aren't I wonderful?" This guy tries to make you feel as though you're several links beneath him on the food chain, perhaps even a bottom feeder, because you don't do the same thing.

My exercise story isn't filled with boasts about how wonderful I am. It begins at the point when the ravages of surgery and its aftermath had left me with zero stamina. If you've experienced major surgery, you know what I mean.

My get-up-and-go had gotten up and left me. Standing up made me so tired that I had to sit back down to rest; standing up and sitting back down isn't going to build up much strength. My physician sent me to the Hammons Heart Institute.

Three days a week I'm fitted with a heart monitor that is hooked up to a setup looking like the command center of the Starship Enterprise. It enables nurses to keep track of my heart activity during exercise.

I've never been much for running. As I understand it, the benefits of walking are pretty much equal to running, and it's a whole lot easier on the knees and ankles. In my lifetime, I've had my appendix and gall bladder removed, back surgery, and two episodes of open-heart surgery. The last thing I need is bad knees and ankles. Mostly, I walk on the track and go through some exercises.

Breaking the four-minute mile isn't on my agenda. The 20-minute mile is more my speed.

Now I'm able to walk about two miles during each exercise session. This doesn't qualify me for the Boston Marathon, but then I don't want to qualify. Truth be told, I feel better than I have felt in a long time, and I keep getting better. This exercise stuff works.

When I started at Hammons Heart Institute, I suppose I felt sorry for myself. It didn't take long for me to realize how well off I was. People with all sorts of afflictions are there, giving it their best. Some are walking on the track or treadmill with oxygen tanks trailing behind or strapped on to them.

Rehabilitation exercise is tough enough when you can breathe normally. Imagine how difficult it must be when you can't breathe without an oxygen tank. These folks make me feel lucky.

Some who can barely walk are out there giving it a whirl. Others of my co-exercisers are in wheelchairs. If you want to see raw courage, watch a person in a wheelchair going through an exercise routine.

Try feeling sorry for yourself when you see a wheelchair-bound person valiantly struggling to exercisie enough to build up some body strength. It inspires me to try harder.

Thanks to the readers who have asked about my current health status. I'm pleased to say that I'm alive and kicking ... make that walking!

(Joe McAdoo is former chairman of the communication department at Drury College and a Springfield public relations consultant.)

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