Health, VO2, The Freemasons, and my blog

rodkersh1948

May 29

I began this blog in 2015.

There was a lot happening in my life at that time.

I was working in Doncaster.

Before Covid.

I had just completed my MSc and was feeling dispirited.

I was frustrated with work and the NHS.

I found myself contemplating death.

I don't fear much in life beyond harm befalling those I love and, sudden death.

I have no problem with all the other forms of demise,

I struggle with the suddenness which robs you of the option to say goodbye.

As to why goodbye should be of such importance, I don't know.

I have long been an advocate of forgetting or not-remembering birthdays, anniversaries and gift-card celebrations (e.g., Father's Day) as my mantra has always been, 'It's not how you treat your mum/dad/granny/dog on that >gift-card store determined day< it's how you behave the other 364 days that matter.'

Actions speak louder than words.

And so, I shouldn't really mind if I drop dead in the next 10 minutes; I have a trove of deeds & blogs that should keep everyone going.

Nevertheless, that wasn't my mindset in 2015.

I thought I would write the blog as a swansong,

Something to leave behind for my friends and family to look back upon after I had turned to crust/rust/dust.

The wheels of time jarred.

I lived.

In 2017, I moved jobs. There were ups and downs, then the pandemic.

All an existential threat to my and everyone's survival.

Instead of investing in my mental and physical wellbeing I used to double-mask and douse my head with alcohol gel upon exiting the Covid ward. (Ears too floppy for triple mask).

Something happened in 2022.

Two people are responsible.

I began intermittent fasting (N) and completed Couch to 5K (A).

And I kept going.

On Saturday I swam 3k, ran 5k, cycled 20k and took my dogs on a long meandering walk through Clumber Park.

I've never been much of a doctor for data.

Sure, I pretend it matters.

'The data suggests,' I might say at times of need, yet, I am much more, what I used to tell my kids when they asked, 'What sort of doctor are you?' 'Touchy feely' – as a geriatrician, I don't fit nicely into an organ-specific box – heart/lung/pancreas, instead, I use my feelings and emotions to engage with patients, to understand their ills and find ways to support (not necessarily treat).

Different to a psychiatrist, who is a doctor of the mind, I see myself as one who tends to the heart, the spirit, the soul.

It is hard to measure fear or worry or anxiety (I know some people have 'validated' measurement tools, they are not for me.)

And so, I drift through a world of feeling and emotion.

It is my natural habitat.

I am far more comfortable managing emotions than statistical analyses. (If I am treating you for your blood pressure, don't worry, I have the capacity to parallel process).

And the data.

Or before the data is where I am and how I feel.

Pretty good.

And the data is representative.

All gleaned from my watch.

Some of you might think, bejeesus, I didn't realise you had been so unfit. Well, that is me – open and honest.

You, master of the riser-recliner, can do the same.

And what about Freemasonry?

Well, my dad was one.

I don't know if he would be angry at my revealing this on the blog. I am sure not. There is a difference between announcing your Freemasonry and revealing the secrets.

Well.

I learned the secrets last week too.

They are, if what I was told is true: