The Final Straw

Did you ever reach a point where you said, "Enough!! This is crap and I'm done with it."? Last month, I went in for a checkup and was given a test for sleep apnea. Sure enough, I have moderate sleep apnea. I stop breathing about 10 times an hour. They set me up with a CPAP machine to wear at night to force air into my lungs when I stop breathing. Two weeks ago, I stepped on the scale and saw that I have set a new personal high for obesity. I'm 6 feet tall and weighed 236 pounds. Not a fatso, by modern, lardass American standards but, at least, 50 pounds more than a guy my height should weigh. For me, that was the point when I said it. No more. I cut back on my food intake and have been watching what I do eat and, in a bit less than two weeks, I'm down 9 pounds. 190/195 is my goal. I have not had an episode of a/fib in several months. I don't know why, but I'll take it anyway that I can get it. I don't know if loosing weight will help with it, but it sure as hell can't hurt. I need to get back on the treadmill also. I was up to 7 miles a day at 7 miles per hour and then I broke my toe. It took over a month before it stopped hurting and, by that time, I lost my desire to get back on. At 66 years old and with a family history of death of male members between 55 and 62 years old, I really am pushing my luck, carrying around all this extra fat. I've always been one to take my excesses to the limit before I get the message. So, along with cigarettes, drugs and drinking for effect, I have to say good bye to gluttony.