Let me tell you about my daily routine. My biological alarm clock has me consistently awake at around 2:00 am and again between 5:30 and 6:00 am. The synonym for “biological alarm clock” is…you know, I don’t have to say it. Any male over 50 knows what I am talking about. The next goal is to waddle and limp to the living room without falling, turn on the TV, and plug in my cell phone next to my broken recliner chair. The next 30 to 45 minutes are spent swallowing the handful of pills prescribed for heart, high cholesterol and diabetes diagnoses while clicking through CNN, Fox News, and News Nation. I inevitably land on the Salt Lake news channels to learn how many layers of clothing I will wear for the day.
My laptop then makes its way into my hands for logging into the safe and secure, HIPPA compliant, EMR apps of my employer to check my patient census and finish treatment notes from the previous day. The quality assurance lady often reminds me that my notes are to be finished and submitted on the computer within 48 hours of seeing the patient. I would say my rate of compliance is less than 100% but greater than 50%.
Breakfast is an ambulatory event of either a V8 juice (vegetable serving) or an Ensure high-protein drink. My first stop after leaving the house is either the outpatient therapy clinic to fill my water mug with that really good crushed ice or at the city office to “borrow” a diet Mt. Dew from the fridge. I say borrow because I do take my turn resupplying the stock of soda kept there for VIPs. The second stop is usually the home health office to get any updates on patients from one of the greatest groups of nurses I have ever had the pleasure of working alongside. I love to sit in the squeaky leather recliner in the director’s office and “hold court” with my co-workers. I am pretty certain that they secretly look forward to and tremble with anticipatory zeal to hear my latest stories and dad jokes.
The beauty of my job is that each new day is different from the previous. Different patients, different locations, different roads to drive down, and different convenience stores to visit for snacks and gossip. I don’t complain about the driving, I love to drive and be alone. If I am lucky, the mileage reimbursement check covers my truck payment!
During these winter months, my arrival home often overlaps with sunset. That coincidence seems to make me feel more fatigued as I step out of the truck to again waddle and limp into the house to that same broken recliner. Another quick check of the news channels and then my mind notices my blood sugar. I check my Dexcom glucose sensor and realize that all I had for sustenance that day were refills of either ice water or diet Mt. Dew, some honey-roasted peanuts, a donut, and maybe a lifesaving corndog.
After standing and staring into the fridge for up to a minute, I eventually come up with something of either the leftover variety or if energetic enough, I cook up some salmon, steak, and a baked potato (my version of a vegetable). Lately, I have been hooked on onion (another vegetable serving) smash burgers of the Brooklyn style. I am good at eating vegetables secondhand. Cows are vegetarians and I eat cows, so …there you go, my dietician friends!
After clearing my dishes to the kitchen, I settle in for either some TV, headphone music or a book, depending on my mental status. Even though my phone is nearby, don’t bother calling me after 6 pm. By this time, I am overstimulated from the day and crave no further interaction with other humans. You can text me, but depending on the topic, don’t count on a response until morning. By 9 pm, and sometimes earlier, the house goes dark. Ambien is on board, my diffuser with lavender oil is powered on and I am under heavy quilts.
Am I truly stuck in a rut, or am I just following my Dad’s admonition of being consistently conscientious by “keeping it in the furrow?” It’s a matter of interpretation I guess. As warmer sunlit weather returns, my rut will adjust to spending more time outdoors in the yard. My bedtime won’t be as early on the clock and my TV time will decrease.
Ruts feel safe and comfortable. Ruts can be productive if your habits are good, but unproductive if self-destructive. For now, I am comfortable with my rut. Come springtime, I will need a new routine. Any suggestions?
Todd Thomas was born and raised in Preston. He’s currently serving his fourth term on the Preston City Council and works full time as a physical therapist. He can be reached at toddt@prestonid.us.
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We welcome comments, however there are some guidelines:
Keep it Clean: Please avoid obscene, vulgar, lewd, racist or sexual language. Don't Threaten: Threats of harming another person will not be tolerated. Be Truthful: Don't lie about anyone or anything. Be Nice: No racism, sexism or any sort of -ism that is degrading. Be Proactive: Report abusive posts and don’t engage with trolls. Share with Us: Tell us your personal accounts and the history behind articles.