Nothing serious, nothing at all, but I have been briefly unwell. An episode of gastroenteritis, with all the nasty symptoms. Seen the doc. Confirmed as such. So let’s close the door on that. Except…
One of the benefits of wearing a fitness device is I am able to tell how hard my body is working. I’ve had one since my heart attack, an event that took place coming up for seven years ago. Because I am of a certain level of fitness (above average for a person of my age, apparently), and because my daily exercise regime is so predictable it’s almost cast in rock, I only use my fitness device for monitoring how much (little) sleep I get. This is because I know my normal heart rates. The NHS will tell us that a normal heart rate is anywhere between 60-100 beats per minute. Well yes. But that’s a very broad brush, I prefer to have the detail behind that figure, so I can tell you that my:
- resting/waking heart rate = 58-68
- normal activity heart rate = 70 – 90
- fast (vigorous exercise) hr = 90 – 120
Except at the moment, this simple table doesn’t apply because (presumably) my body is still repairing itself after the gastric nastiness. Anything, any kind of activity at all, sends my heart rate upwards. Walking downstairs to make the morning cup of tea takes it up into the mid-90s. A simple walk around the garden or just walking a pair of spaniels around the village (doesn’t matter which pair) puts me into the high 90s. But, according to the NHS, this is all safely in their broad definition of normal. Just not in my definition of normal. I’m not short of breath, I don’t feel unwell. I don’t think there’s anything wrong. It’s just that my normal heart rate bandings don’t seem to apply at the moment.
Earlier yesterday afternoon I was sitting on a sun-lounger in the garden, enjoying the cloudless blue sky and basking in the c28° warmth. It was glorious. But I couldn’t stop thinking about my elevated heart rate. After half an hour or so my thoughts started getting a little dark. What if this is my last afternoon? What if I conk out here, on this sun-lounger, right now? Is that why the dogs are being so clingy and needy? Can they sense this is my last day? Will my good lady wife her indoors come home from school and find me sprawled out but shuffled off this mortal coil? Will she know what to do right then? Will she know what to do about the admin? Will she know who to contact? Will she even bother looking for my Will? And if she does, will she know where to look? Who’s going to cut the grass? And keep the kitchen clean? And tidy the house? And walk the dogs? She can’t do it all. Who will help?
Anyway, after a while I managed to drag myself out of this dark patch. I came into the house, made a drink, ate a lemon curd cupcake (they are mouth-wateringly delicious!), sat down and started thinking about this topic. I decided the dogs were being clingy because it was half an hour until teatime and they are rubbish at telling the time. So yes, that probably had a lot to do with me being the focus of their attention.
But, because I am a planner through and through, I have put together a list of things to do in case of an emergency. I did this quite a few months ago. But yesterday afternoon I pulled up this list and reviewed it for accuracy and completeness. It’s a good list. It contains many helpful things, contact names, telephone numbers, account details, locations of documents and other useful information. And because my good lady wife her indoors is not quite but almost the most disorganised person in the world, I have saved this list, put it in OneDrive and emailed her a link.
We don’t like to talk about either one of us passing away, it’s a sensitive and not altogether pleasant subject. But it’s still something that you have to plan for. Right?
It’s not a nice subject to talk about, but it’s one that we should all have with our loved ones, because one day, it’s gonna happen.
A couple of years ago, I put all my bank account(s) details and what they are used for, onto an encrypted memory stick. Included are instructions for what to do on my demise: what to do with all my radio equipment; which bits of kit are worth selling; which external hard drives need to be destroyed and how to do it; the type of funeral that I want and I’ve even included the mp3s for the music I’d like played.
The memory stick is hidden and only she knows where… and what the password is.
Preparing for the inevitable is the grown-up thing to do.
A list like that is good. I keep thinking of things I need to add to my list. But I’d add, get a Will drawn up, and sort out an executor