A Pound (or so) of Flesh

I have gained some weight over the past few years.

“Menopause does that,” my family doctor states as a fact. My gynecologist agrees. As do my jeans.

I find the link between menopause and weight gain hard to believe. Given the hot flashes I experienced, how a fat cell could survive such heat is beyond me. As proof, just put a half-pound of bacon in a skillet, set the burner on high, and forget about it for say thirty-five minutes or so as you munch on a Hershey bar and read the paper. I guarantee you there won’t be a bit of fat left in that pan. The assistant fire chief will back me up on this one.

Members of my team of physicians both insist that my reasoning is flawed. While I disagree with them, I can’t deny that something has indeed gone awry. While the weight listed on my driver’s license and the number the digital scale flashes have never been exactly the same, the gap is expanding, and I need to reverse the trend. My health care providers say that exercise is the way to go.

I’m weighing (pun intended) my options. I could exercise at home. We have a stationary bike and treadmill in the basement. Surely dusting them off would burn up a calorie or two. I’ve never been a fan of either device. I have a rather short attention span and find them both boring. No matter how fast I pedal or how fast I walk, I’m always in the same place, doing the same thing. It reminds me a lot of my stay-at-home mom days with three kids under the age of four.

I could join a fitness club. But the very name suggests one is fit, and I don’t think at this point I qualify. Nor do I want to work out with a bunch of skinny people smugly lifting weights and running miles and miles on treadmills. I'm sure they do this without breaking a sweat, while I have recently switched to a clinical strength antiperspirant to keep me dry on trips up and down our stairs at home. If I can find an unfitness club, I might consider it. But as far as I can tell, no such establishment exists.

I considered those combination dance-exercise sessions like Cheryl Burke of Dancing With The Stars advertises. Those women wear tiny leotards and have so much fun, all the while smiling to beat the band. One two cha-cha-cha! But again, those gals are thin as string beans and have feet that naturally move in patterns consistent with dance steps. I, on the other hand, have left my string bean days behind and am headed into the era of the squash. My feet tread as gracefully as Gerald Ford’s once did. In addition, I’m not sure what effect the new health care reform bill has on my current accidental death or dismemberment supplemental insurance policy. Until I read the 2000+ pages, I’m not taking any chances.

My third option, and one I am considering, is joining the Y. A friend of mine exercises there and loves it. She and a group of women exercise in the pool. Water Wake Up at 8:00 a.m. Cardio Splash starts at 9:45. Power-Up class meets at 11:00. At noon they head out for lunch.

It sounds great. Almost too good to be true. The Y is just minutes away from my home. The women tend to be on the mature side of forty, or fifty. And if I exercise in the water, my sweat glands won’t cause me embarrassment.

I had filled out my application and was reaching for my credit card when it hit me. Water equals bathing suit. A bathing suit! I’ll have to put on a bathing suit!

This is a problem. A serious problem. There is no way I can join an exercise group to shape up and lose weight until I am a little firmer and about twenty pounds lighter. How in the world am I going to do that without exposing myself to the scrutiny of those who have already walked the walk whether on treadmill or pavement?

I’m determined to find something I can do in the privacy of my own home. Behind closed doors. And behind closed shades.

This is why I’m taking the plunge into technological exercise. What choice do I have?

I’m going to get a Wii. And just as soon as I can lay my hands on one, I’ll let you know how it goes.

Airport Health Care

In a few short months, CVG, our local airport will be performing full-body scans. Some decry this invasion of privates or privacy, however you choose to view it. They claim TSA personnel will use the equipment to check passengers for more than contraband, in which case, the stimulus money used to purchase the scanning machine will stimulate things other than the economy. All of this may be true up to a point, but in these hard economic times, we have to look and think outside of the box. Tightened security is inevitable, but we may as well make the best of it. This may be a blessing disguised as voyeurism.

Think about it. The cost of health care is skyrocketing. Everyone is delegating, but no one is accepting the blame. Our representatives in D.C. cannot agree on government’s role to keep us hale and hardy while making physician’s waiting rooms with copies of 1997 National Geographic accessible and affordable for all Americans.

Keep in mind that CT scans on average cost $1,397.00. An MRI of the brain runs $3,227.00. I found this information online, so it must be true.

Now consider this. A person can jet to Las Vegas, spend a couple of days in a nice hotel, gamble or sightsee to her heart’s content for $351.20. A mere fraction of the cost of either test.

Given this data, I think I’ve hit on a way to cut soaring health care costs.

Let’s send sick people to Vegas.

For argument’s sake, suppose the government were to blend the issues of airport security and health care. What if airport personnel could accept a physician’s order with our boarding pass? For example, a person with a backache would get a note from the doctor instructing the TSA to focus on the lower lumbar area. Or in the case of migraines, zoom in on those clogged sinuses. For smaller body parts, such as arms and fingers, the patient/passenger would hop on the conveyor belt and ride along with their carryon items. The report goes to the doctor; the patient goes to Las Vegas; the cost of health care goes down. A win, win, win outcome.

As the threat level increases to yellow-orange or orange-yellow, and body searches become more invasive, they could include prostate screening for the gentlemen and pap smears for the ladies. Yet more savings!

In order to make some money, the struggling airlines could offer some optional testing as well. Passengers aren’t allowed to carry liquids aboard planes, so why not extend that to internal liquids as well. Passengers could relieve those bladders into plastic cups before boarding the plane and purchase one of those color-changing test strips like they do potato chips and cookies. The plane would be lighter and therefore more fuel-efficient and the traveler at ease, knowing she won’t be bothered with a painful UTI while out of town. In time, pregnancy tests could be added.

It’s a golden opportunity to allow our government to dabble in health care without overhauling the system until we’re sure they can handle the job. If the TSA proves itself, other government agencies can follow suit. Next up? The IRS. They’ve become so adept at taking a pound of flesh, taking our blood should be a piece of cake.