You ever feel like you are stuck in a place, and can't get out of it? It can be a state of mind, or a physical place. I feel like that now. Physically, I guess I'm doing better. Cardiac Rehab is going along as it should be, I guess. Last Friday was the first time that they actually pushed me to keep my heart rate in that magical "target zone". Afterwards, I went to the restroom, changed into my business clothes, and went to work.

I'm trying to keep things normal, but it's all artificial to me. I still don't know my body anymore. It's like I'm outside looking at some man going through these motions. All the while, I'm thinking, "I could do that better.... faster.... stronger.... than him." Yet, it's no one else but me. I'm confronted with the reality that this stranger that I hardly know may be me for the rest of my life.

I should feel lucky, but I don't. I suppose I do feel lucky that my existence continues to be, that I literally go on. There's something to celebrate in that. The rest of my life remains the same: my home, my cats, Kent, work. Yet, it's as if this life belongs to someone else. This person who hurts every time I move, who has to be careful when he takes a walk as though he's an eighty year old man, is not me.

Today we went to Mashapaug Pond. Kent suggested that we go out to Rock Point, something that he wouldn't let me do until today. I wasn't sure about it either, but I did it. It took me forever, and I had to rest along the way, but I finished it. I thought to myself, "It's just like cardiac rehab.... one step ahead of the other." It was so nice to be outside again and actually going to a place that I love. It was both happy and sad for me.

I'm happy to be alive and able to do this again. I'm sad that I don't feel that I'm the same man that I used to be. Is this a case of male ego? I think it's more profound than that. It's my whole identity.

Our home is a colonial that has frames around the garage. Saturday I painted the frames again. It took me three hours, but I did it. Today, I could hardly move, and all through my chest, I felt like I had broken something. That's one reason I wanted to get out. I wanted to push ahead, as painful as it all is.

Onward....

After our Mashapaug hike, we went to Yankee Spirits up in Massachusetts. It's a very large liquor store that is open on Sunday. I treated myself to a bottle of 30 year old Pierre Ferrand Selection des Anges Cognac. It's one of the finer things in life that I afford myself from time to time. Life is to be enjoyed as much as possible. Don't you think?