UPDATE

The most recent entry here was a year ago - October 2021, in fact - and a lot has happened over the past year so I thought it worthy of updating the blog.

Perhaps the most significant thing is the fact that very recently (17th. - 28th. November) I spent eleven days in John Flynn hospital at Tugun, on the Gold Coast. This is where my wife had her heart operation in 2018.

I was admitted as an urgent case - my kidneys were failing as a result (unknown by me) of my enlarged prostate severely restricting urine outflow.

Over time I had just become accustomed to it and had no reason to know that it was placing my kidneys in danger and that it was distending my bladder to the extent that it was.

My GP picked up on the fact that the kidneys were not good, had me undergo blood and urine tests and at the same time had my kidneys and bladder scanned by ultrasound.

Results came back on the 15th. of November and through an amazing chance she happened to get me a consultation the next morning (Wednesday 16th.) with a urologist at John Flynn Private hospital.

 

I drove up to see him, he said he wanted me into hospital immediately, I said I needed to get back home first (to Yamba) so drove back that afternoon and then up to Tugun again the following morning - Thursday the 17th. of November.

 

Before having anything done to the prostate they had to do what was possible to get kidney function improvement and to get that underway I immediately had a cather inserted and 1.2 litres of urine was drained from my distended bladder.

Yes, you read that right - 1.2 litres.

An over-full bladder in an adult may hold 600 ml or so, but according to my urologist and the renal specialist, what I was retaining was exceptional.

Over the next five days I drank lots of water, got very little sleep (maximum was about a two-hour stint), had water intake vs urine output measured, ate very little and gradually the kidney function improved, until it plateaued - but it was an improvement and was below the critical level at which dialysis would have been considered necessary. There may even be further improvement over time but they will never be "normal" for a man of my age.

Once the kidneys had stabilised the urologist was able to do a TURP procedure (the urethra is "re-bored") on the prostate; it didn't need to be removed as it was small enough to enable a TURP to work.

That procedure should see me out (usually about ten or so years) but a checkup in January will indicate how it's going.

So the following six days were spent being constantly monitored, particularly for water consumption, urine output and urine retention. Gradually my appetite picked up and I was able to finish a meal without feeling queezy.

Finally, on Monday the 28th. of November, I received the all-clear from both doctors and said goodbye to the nurses and staff who had cared for me over the previous eleven days.
The care, kindness and attention given to me by more than 25 nurses over that period was amazing and I felt overwhelmed by emotion when saying goodbye. Nurses are really very special people.

I would like to say a public "Thank You" to each of them. I recorded their names on my phone each time they changed shifts. My apologies if any spelling is incorrect:-

Nadia, Chrissy, Krystle, Aly, Kathy, Jacque, Bec, Julie, Belinda, Jessa, Sundi, Andrea, Wendy, Yvonne, Jacquie, Michelle, Cathie, Tara, Emma, Saraya, Rachel, Darinda, Amanda, Liz, Honey, Annelyse and Greg.

Very special people, indeed.

There is still a chance that the prostate may require removal. The check and tests in January, particularly on the PSA level and the scan of the prostate, will determine whether it should be removed.
If so, then whether cancer plays a part will not be known unless a biopsy is taken.

UPDATE:
Pathology report was received by the urologist, who spoke to me on the phone on Wednesday 14th. December.
A biopsy was taken during the TURP and cancer was found. He stressed that it was a small 'c' and no action was needed at this time. The check in January will help determine if anything further will be required.

Que sera, sera.......as the saying goes.

Whatever way it turns out, right now I am just so thankful that by some miracle of timing I was able to be seen virtually immediately after my GP contacted the urologist. Someone had phoned in just minutes before to cancel their appointment and that time was available when my GP phoned. Incredible.
An earlier call to a urologist in Lismore resulted in a "not until February" response; my renal specialist said that I may not have lasted until February.

Miracles really do happen.

COVID-19: TV News Media....take note!!

I, and many, many others, are completely fed up with news-media TV journalists using sensation-laden lines when before the cameras and also adding their hyped, dramatic opinions.

JUST GIVE US THE NEWS, for God's sake, without trying to dramatise it!!

We do NOT need the hyperbole. We just need the facts and have them delivered without your attempts at sensationalism.

Neither do we need cartoony graphics running in the background.

We DO realise the seriousness of the situation and DO NOT need your ridiculous attempts to increase the drama.
So you so-called journos - and those who write your lines - give it a rest and just state the facts.

Over the past month I have become so irritated by the TV news telecasts...all of them, including the ABC. Even SBS has joined the ranks.

(How we miss the days of one person (James Dibble, Brian Henderson, et al) sitting behind a desk and giving us the un-garnished facts and then if warranted, doing a voice over as a video ran to illuminate the story.)

A week on the Gold Coast

(All photos enlarge to full size when clicked)

This past week has been one of those not quite ordinary run-of-the-mill weeks that we have experienced during our life here in Yamba.

It was certainly as traumatic as the fire (November 2017) and, for my wife, definitely a life-changing experience because she was admitted to hospital for open-heart surgery for the replacement of the aortic valve.

The hospital at which the surgeon operates is the John Flynn private hospital at Tugun, on the Gold Coast and literally a stone's-throw on the Queensland side of the QLD-NSW border.

I stayed in an apartment in the Royal Palm resort tower at Palm Beach, less than 10 minute's drive away along the Gold Coast Highway.

This was a very convenient location due to its proximity to (a) the hospital and (b) a Coles supermarket less than 500 metres away. As you can see in the photo below, this location has plenty of construction underway as older buildings are demolished and new, taller, buildings are constructed. And so the unattractive coastal sprawl continues along the Gold Coast.

The apartment I stayed in is very large (2 bedrooms) and most comfortable....and, when the sliding glass doors to the balconies are closed, also very quiet.

I tended to leave the bedroom door slightly open at night and the sound of the surf less than 50 metres away lulled me to sleep....particularly on the night after the operation was performed and I was able to relax more than I had over the previous few days.

When not visiting my wife in hospital I spent some time taking photos of the Jetstar, Virgin and Tiger Air aircraft on their final approach to runway 14 at the Gold Coast airport, less than 6 kms south of the apartment towers.

An RAAF item joined in the fun one morning.......

The aircraft landing pattern had them doing the crosswind leg off the coast and they would turn onto the final a kilometre or so north of my location and pass by and above the tower as they descended.

The photos above were all taken from the balcony beyond the TV set you can see in the second photo of the apartment itself.

All the above pix were taken in the morning or early afternoon.

Here's one of a Tiger Air unit taken as the sun was setting............

The view from the apartment is superb. I was on the 9th. floor so it would be even more so from, say, the 24th. floor.

Looking southward, towards the Currumbin Creek estuary

The rock formation at Currumbin Alley (popular surfing spot)

Surfer's Paradise 20+ kms north.

A few photos from the Currumbin Creek and Tarrabora Reserve area.........

A bush turkey. Quite used to humans and didn't move away.

This stuff is impenetrable!! A natural barrier to everything except a tank!

I'll close with this photo of the sun rising behind the clouds at about 7:30 AM on my fifth and final morning before coming home, with my wife out of ICU after a successful operation and on the road to recovery.

FOOTNOTE:
Here's a little video of a workman commuting to his job on a construction site........

The New Glasses

The new glasses

I had two pairs of glasses up until last Monday; one pair for driving, which were fitted with clip-on Polaroid lenses, and another pair for reading and computer work.
The latter pair had accumulated so many scratches over the six years since I had them prescribed that it was like trying to read a book through raindrops so I made an appointment to have an eye test and get new glasses.

Test results were good: macular excellent, no sign of cataracts, very good field of vision and just a leaning towards the first signs of glaucoma.

The optometrist suggested that I go for new multi-focal, or "progressive" glasses, which would cover far to near without the need for two pairs.
I followed his suggestion and four days ago picked up these new glasses - which cost the equivalent of the national debt of a small African nation. Thank heavens for small mercies in that my health fund covered part of the cost - less than half but at least it's better than a poke in the eye with a burnt stick. Pun intended.

If I said that I was finding the process of becoming used to wearing them slow and frustrating that would be an understatement. I sometimes feel that my neck muscles are getting more work than they have ever had before as I am constantly moving my head up, down and from side-to-side.

I'll persevere but boy, it's a trial, that's for sure.

"And how are you today?"

Don't you find this to be an odd greeting when attending a doctor's surgery?

I had an appointment this morning and the (very pleasant) receptionist greeted me with that line, to which I replied "Well, not really great, otherwise I wouldn't be here", which was met by a look of surprise.

What else did she expect? I was ill!

In a similar vein is the "Have a nice day!" that the checkout-chick throws your way at 5:30 in the evening.

In both cases it's habit, I know, but in the former "How can I help you?" and in the latter "Thank you." would be more appropriate.

Up Yours!......A Colonoscopy Experience.

Do you know what that is, over there on the left?

This is an 8-foot high and 20-foot long replica of a human colon that depicts both healthy tissue and colon disease.

Why am I showing it?

Because I have just been through a Colonoscopy and for me, a person who has only been in hospital a couple of times (1952 and 1998) in his 64-year life, I perceived and treated it as a daunting experience.

So I thought I'd lay out what I really experienced over the three days leading up to  and including C-hour on C-Day and possibly help someone who might be as concerned as I was.

Here we go then, day by day.......................

C-Day Minus 2.

My procedure (that's its official name - the "Procedure") was set for a Tuesday afternoon. Therefore the Preparation Phase (my emphasis) commenced on the Sunday prior to C-Day.

This first part of the preparation was the easiest: Starting on the Sunday morning  and continuing until I went to bed I was able to eat as much of what I liked from a restricted diet.

No meat, no milk, (but cheese was allowed), no vegetables, no fruit. No wholemeal bread. Nothing with seeds.

Eggs, white rice, peeled, well-cooked potato, white bread........all okay and, surprise, alcoholic beverages were permitted.

So for breakfast I had grilled cheese on white-bread toast and two cups of black coffee. And I drank several 250ml glasses of fresh water or apple juice during the morning.

Lunch consisted of two slices of white bread, lightly smeared (hardly visible!) with Vegemite, washed down with more glasses of water or fruit juice.

During the afternoon I consumed several cups of weak black (Twinings Earl Grey) tea with a teaspoon of sugar. The cuppas were reinforced by copious amounts of water and glasses of apple juice.

Tea - or "dinner" - was the highlight of the day: Two boiled eggs and a slice of toasted white bread, accompanied by a glass of wine then followed by a glass of apple juice for dessert. Yum!

Of course, all this consumption of liquids resulted in many trips to the toilet and, by the time I went to bed, my kidneys were screaming "ENOUGH!" I don't drink much straight water at the best of times, preferring fruit juices (but something a little more exciting than clear apple), so my system was quite taken aback by all this clear liquid.

The last items to be consumed before bedtime were two Senakote tablets, duly downed with a glass of water.

As I drifted off to sleep I thought that, although I was somewhat bored with drinking water, apple juice and tea, this first day of the preparation was pretty easy. Other than going to bed feeling hungry, the ordeal - if that is the correct term - was very easy to cope with.

However, having to get up and pee four times during the night didn't thrill me and when I woke up at 6:30 on C-Day Minus 1 (Monday) I was dead tired and not looking forward to the next module of the Preparation Phase.

C-Day Minus 1.

Monday dawned for me at about 5:30 AM, as I made my way to the toilet, said goodbye to what seemed like a couple of litres of apple juice and then snuck back to bed for another hour.

When I was being briefed by the specialist's nurse about The Procedure I was asked if it would be possible for me to not go to work on the Monday, to which I responded that yep, that wouldn't be a problem.
The reason she asked was due to the fact that Monday - C-Day Minus 1 - could be really considered as Forming A Close Attachment With The Toilet Day.  Being more than ten seconds away from the throne room was considered to be risky - akin to jumping out of a 'plane with an umbrella, or bungee-jumping using underpants-elastic as the bungee cord.

So when I finally dragged myself out of bed (around 6:30 AM) on this day I was faced with the fact that from here until C-Hour on Tuesday I had to live a life of NO FOOD! Chewing, as we know and love it, was out.

Complying with the printed instructions, I had prepared, on C-Day Minus 2 (Sunday), three separate 1-litre containers of The Stuff.
It's real name I can't recall - CPrep, or something like that.  Whatever, it is the modern equivalent of "C-Stoff", the rocket fuel used by the Nazis to power their V2. The effect is similar.
CPrep comes in a sachet and is mixed with 1 litre of fresh water and then placed in the fridge. I never want to see or taste it again as long as I live.
My wife had, at great expense, gone out that Sunday afternoon and bought three 1-litre plastic containers of orange juice, which were decanted into a standard 3-litre container, just so that I could have three 1-litre bottles for The Stuff.
(Note: three 1-litre containers of orange juice costs twice as much as a 3-litre container of the same product from the same manufacturer).

The morning was spent drinking "approved fluids".
These consisted of water, clear fruit juices (apple, in my case), black tea or coffee, clear consomme (chicken stock in my case), water, juice, water, tea..........ad infinitum.
By early afternoon, if I  moved I gurgled, like a water bed.

At 1430 hours (I'm introducing a military theme here) I was required to commence consumption of 1 litre of The Stuff and it was emphasised that I should consume 250ml every 15 minutes. If I felt sick then it was permissible for me to slow down the intake but I still had to down that 1 litre of fluid.

Now, let me explain that The Stuff had/has a slight citrus taste - possibly lemon - but there is an under-taste of Medicinal Chemicals.
After two glasses I really felt like gagging so I had a glass of apple juice in between doses of The Stuff.
I must pat myself on the back here and say that within the hour I had done my duty and all of that 1-litre of The Stuff had gone down my gullet. Fair enough, there were many chasers of apple juice and water, but I had got rid of one bottle. Two to go.

The information on the sachet said that bowel movements may commence between an hour and three hours, depending on the metabolism  of the victim subject.
Mine started about 32 seconds after I downed that last 250ml. Thank God I was less than a minute from our portal to Canberra's sewerage system.

Suffice to say that the rest of Monday morning was spent between the kitchen (where the refrigerated Stuff was located) and the smallest room in the house.

At 1800 hours I had to start drinking the contents of the second 1-litre container and drink as many glasses of "approved fluids" as I could.
By this time my taste buds were rebelling - The Stuff was making me nauseated with every swallow and I really had to force myself to drink it. But I managed and, again within that hour, I had knocked off the 1-litre container, aided by many additional glasses of apple juice.

By eight o'clock that night I had had it with liquids. All I wanted was to chew something.....anything. My teeth were feeling neglected.
I had also completed three crossword puzzles whilst passing the time in the loo and had gone through almost a full roll of two-ply quilted, embossed, softer-than-gossamer toilet paper and my rear end was feeling as if I'd been using sand-paper. I had also become sick of the smell of the air-freshener.
Not that it was needed by that time in the evening; all I was passing then was water.

I went to bed on Monday night feeling drained. Pun well and truly intended.
I also felt hungry and wanted something to taste that wasn't either sweet (juice) or bland (water). But most of all I did NOT want to drink the final 1-litre of The Stuff, which I was due to consume between 0700 and 0800 the next morning - C-day.

C-Day! 9 Hours and counting........

During the night I was up and down again.....all those "approved fluids", together with the 2-litres of Draino For Humans, had a sleep-disturbing effect.

Just before dawn I had a strange, and very clear, dream. I was in a queue in a cafe, making my selection for lunch and when I was served I asked the (faceless) girl behind the counter for a ham, cheese and tomato omelette, with salad.

I could see it and it looked exactly like those photos you see in cookery books....all appetising and delectable and beautifully presented.

The strange thing was that when I asked the price she said "Eight lettuce-leaves"!

So there I was, counting out lettuce-leaves to buy this mouth-watering omelette. Then I woke up and reality faced me; today was C-Day!

The first order of the day was that at 0700 I was to commence drinking the third 1-litre container of Stuff. To be perfectly frank, I was dreading that. Not because I was fearful of the consequences - after all, I had spent all day Monday wearing a pathway to the toilet. No, it was  the taste that put me off completely.

However, I gritted my teeth and downed the first glassful of the ghastly liquid and, twenty minutes later, did the same with the second 250 millilitres. Of course, in between these two doses I visited the little room several times.

Within the prescribed hour the liquid was gone........all of it inside me and by that time it was virtually coming straight out again.

The relief that I felt at 0800, knowing that I did not have to take The Stuff any more, was considerable. From that point on it was just "approved fluids" until 1130, when all consumption had to stop.

So breakfast consisted of several glasses of water and apple juice, as did morning tea.

Along the way I was still getting constant exercise by walking between where-ever I was at the time and the toilet. Crossword puzzles were being completed at a rapid - if disjointed - pace and shares in Kimberley-Clark were sky-rocketing as stocks of toilet tissue reduced dramatically.

The morning passed uneventfully and at 1120 I had my last glass of water. From now until after The Procedure, nothing would enter my body. Plenty would continue to depart, but nothing was allowed in.....well, apart from The Probe, of course.

Probe minus about 1 hour.

Other than irregular visits to the toilet, the rest of the day, up to 1500, was drama-free. My system by this time was devoid of everything; it was as clean as a brand new bit of plumbing.

Just prior to going off to the hospital I weighed myself and was startled to see that I had lost almost 5kg over the two-and-a-half days since starting the restricted diet on Sunday morning.

At 1530 I presented myself for admission and then passed from reception into the care of a nurse, who told me what the process would be for The Procedure.

I was shown to a curtained-off bed where I stripped to a T-shirt and then donned a disposable surgical gown, open at the back. I lay down on a mobile bed, placed a warmed cotton blanket over me and waited for the nurse to come and check my blood pressure.

When she did so she advised that the anaesthetist would soon come in and place a cannula in a vein on the back of my right hand and then I'd be wheeled into The Room and that the next time we spoke I'd be back where I currently was, without any memory of being Probed. Yeah...sure, I thought to myself.

But she was 100% correct.

The cannula was duly popped into my hand, I was wheeled into the room where official Probing was carried out. I was asked my name, why I was there, who my doctor was and then asked to roll onto my left side.  The anesthetist stuck a tube into the cannula and then the nurse said to me "Well, how are you feeling? Would you like a cup of tea or coffee and some sandwiches?"

Probe plus 30 minutes......

Huh?!

It was as if I just blinked and more than 30 minutes went by in that tiny moment in time.

There was no pain, no discomfort, no strange feelings, no nausea. One second I was on my left side about to have tubes inserted into me and a split second later I was on my left side being asked if I wanted refreshments.

As I was eating a sandwich - and I can't recall what was on it and didn't really care, because it was solid food - the gastroenterology guy came to say that everything was fine. One tiny polyp was removed. That was it.

In summary, The Procedure itself was an anti-climax.

The process is so straight-forward and drama-free that, in hindsight, I can honestly say that I would prefer to have that actual process done than have a tooth filled. Truly.

For me, the worst part was the preparation, the two days of restricted diet centred around the process of flushing out the digestive system.

I will never voluntarily drink that stuff again because I just could not stand the taste. I can still taste it.

Perhaps most people would find it quite okay and would deal with the 3-litres better than I could but all I know is that I would prefer the option (which I found out whilst eating the sandwiches afterwards), which is many tablets consumed with much fresh water. That I could stand.

For anyone either contemplating a colonoscopy as part of a regular checkup, or who might be required to have one in order to investigate a problem, don't be alarmed or put off by the actual thought of having your nether regions probed by people wielding exotic power tools.

It's the Preparation Phase which you should avoid at all costs - unless you like citrus-flavoured drain cleaner.

My first serious 'bike accident

It occurred on Friday 9th. April and the following is what I posted on the Canberra Riders forum....... 

Less than two minutes after having the bike inspected and passed (Discount Tyres, Erindale) and on my way home (another two minutes away) I am laying on the road at a roundabout, having given way to a driver on my left who was entering said roundabout....or so I thought.

"What the ???????" I say to myself as I lay there, bike to the left (still idling), me on my back.

I had the presence of mind to reach out and hit the kill switch as people came from left, right and centre.

Then I thought "Who's going to feed the cat tonight?" Ridiculous thought!! Why did I think that?!

Solicitous people are asking if I am hurting (not "Are you okay?", thank heavens) and, if so, where.

I hear someone calling triple-oh and I hear people talking about moving the bike off the road.

By this time I'm in a sitting position, visor half-connected to the helmet, and I'm nursing my left arm because my shoulder is hurting. I notice blood seeping slightly through the right leg of my jeans just where my knee is.

But - other than my sore left shoulder - I feel fine physically but utterly devastated emotionally. And HUGELY embarrassed. All those people looking at me and doing things because of something I did.

A fire engine arrives from Tugg and less than a minute later the ambulance arrives from Calwell station.

The man who dialled 000 tells me (a little later) that the operator said she'd send "everyone" but the police never stopped at the scene.

They did pass through the roundabout on their way up Erindale Drive....probably to something more pressing.

Single-vehicle accident, driver/rider okay.

But the ambos stayed, expecting the police to come.

Ambo checks me over, including slitting the sleeve of a perfectly good shirt!

At that time I have only a sore shoulder and an abrasion to the right knee - well, that's all that I know about.

"Do you want us to take you to casualty?"

"NAAAA! I'm fine....bit sore in the shoulder and I can stick a band-aid on the knee. I'll be okay, thanks all the same"

The driver I fell over for ended up taking me home (she is a motorcyclist) and a very nice man (Mick...thank you) rode my damaged bike home for me. He was a motorcyclist and used to tutor Troy Bayliss. Small world.

An hour later daughter calls in on way home from work and takes me to the medical centre.

Why? I was fine just an hour ago!

Moving my left arm above horizontal is agony.

Huge swellings are growing around both knees. It is painful to walk as I have to bend at the knees.........and on my right elbow there is a graze and another swelling. (Huh? Right elbow? It wasn't even sore an hour ago!)

I have discovered an abrasion to my right inner ankle. Huh? Where did that come from?!

Doctor (my GP for 26 years) says, "You IDIOT, Bruce!!" (great bedside manner!) when I tell her that I sent the ambulance away.

Abrasions are cleaned and dressed, tetanus shot administered, x-rays taken of left knee and left shoulder.

NO breaks. Thank God.

The swellings are soft tissue damage and should reduce over the coming week but "You are going to feel this tomorrow"!

Left shoulder is rotator-cuff damage due to severe extension of the arm (I held onto the left handle bar and the savage jerk tried to pull the ball out of the socket.)

Three hours after the accident my daughter drops me off at home and I am thankful to be in one piece, without major injuries and able to mentally slap myself repeatedly about the head as I shout "IDIOT!" over and over.

Observations A:

Unfamiliar with the bike, I grabbed too much front brake and literally in a split second I was on the ground.

Speed was only around 40 - 50 kph, as I had just left a 40 kph zone and was actually slowing (engine braking) when I grabbed the lever.

Strike One for Bruce.

Maybe the driver entering the roundabout should have stopped at the dotted line instead of continuing on into the roundabout. As it turned out, she was turning left into Harricks Cres. but she wasn't angling left as she crossed the line. That led my brain to the instinctive conclusion "SHE'S COMING THROUGH!"

Perhaps a Strike 0.5 for the car driver.

Observations B:

PPE works.

I have a graze on the front chin-protector of my helmet right where my lower right jaw sits within that helmet.

I would have facial damage if I had worn an open-faced helmet. Even an ambo commented on that.

Abrasions can occur through clothing.

My jeans have no holes yet I was severely abraded in the region of the right knee.

I suppose the only advantage is no ingress of road crap.

Armour works.

I might have an abrasion to my right elbow but even though I came down on that side, no point damage to the bone or tissue.

My jacket does, however, have some holes.

Armoured bits on gloves work, too.

They are reusable, but there is light grinding damage to the "bumps" on the right hand.

Conclusion:

I am more upset about the damage to the bike than I am to the damage to me.

It's not irreparable, by any means - the headlight & bucket need replacing; the handlebars seem to be slightly out of alignment; foot-brake lever is bent slightly; road-rash marks on the bar-end, muffler, etc. - but I am just so upset that this lovely little machine has been damaged by ME. That's what hurts the most.
========

Since writing the above, 3 weeks have passed and, in that time, I have climbed back onto a 'bike (the Honda CM400A) and have ridden it in traffic. It was important - to me - to do that because I felt that the longer I left it then the more my doubts would grow and my confidence wane.

Physically, the healing process is slow; the bruising has nearly gone, abrasions have healed over and the swellings have reduced but the left shoulder is still sore and will take longer to recover than the bruises and scratches.

As for the Renaissa - it is in the hands of the repairers and will be fixed just as soon as the headlight and any other bits arrive from Japan.

Beneficial exercise or physical torture?

Tonight I attended my first exercise session at a local fitness centre (they don't call them "gymnasiums" these days).
I was taken through the 1-hour program by a very nice bloke, a few years younger than I.
Tony had a quadruple-bypass about 4 years ago, took up regular exercise after the operation and became an instructor at the centre. Because of his age and personal background he is the ideal person to set and oversee the program.

It was a fun regime, involving about six different pieces of equipment, with an emphasis on increasing bone density, burning fat and improving overall muscle tone.
A tiring, but enjoyable hour that I found to be very satisfying. I didn't realise how much I had missed regular physical exercise.

Of course, tomorrow morning, I may well reverse my opinion when I find my muscles refuse to work without creating enormous amounts of pain all over my body.