A Health Musing: Movement is Medicine

 And now for a nonfiction short…

📷credit: Thank you, Leonardo da Vinci and Pixabay Vector

Movement is Medicine

It was the late 80s, and I remember our two-story house as clear as day. Smack in the kitchen was a round yellow table. It was built into the home and attached to a desk and storage area. It was around that table everything changed. 

One day Dad came home from seeing a doctor, and life took a sharp turn down 2104 Healthy Ave. Suddenly dinners went from beef or pork to chicken, fish, and turkey burgers (they are NOT the same as beef burgers, especially for children under ten). All proteins went on the grill. It didn’t matter there was a -10 degree windchill; the grill was fired up and ready to cook healthy. We ripped out a large window, put in French doors, and extended the deck. To grill. To be healthy.

Breakfast shifted to a high-fiber cereal piled with wheat germ and then drowned in powdered milk (long before today’s vast choices of non-dairy). Thank goodness my brother and I didn’t have to endure the breakfast aspect of good health.  

And then, we cue the exercise. Yep, plop a loud whirling exercise bike in the living room. My Dad would ride that bike every night after work for at least 30 minutes. 

I didn’t understand it at the time and thought he was just a weird grown-up, but that was when he started taking his health very seriously. That was his precipice, and he jumped headlong into a commitment to a healthier lifestyle. In his 40s.  

Flash forward to today, in the second decade of the next century. Dad turned 84 at the beginning of 2023. He was also diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease in the summer of 2021. 

Wait, I thought this was about health? Keep reading.

Parkinson’s is not a one size fits all shoe. In fact, it’s uniquely designed for each individual. Symptoms and experiences can be vastly different for every person who has it. This can make it more complicated to treat.

The majority of folks get a diagnosis in their 50s or 60s. Of course, it has been known to show up in those younger (30s-40s). What’s not so common is a diagnosis in your 80s. 

Dad’s diagnosis came much later than average, and his symptoms are on the milder side (thank the heavens). Why? His neurologist believes his choice to live a healthier life and exercise regularly staved off the onset of Parkinson’s Disease. 

Take a moment to reread that: His neurologist believes his movement/exercise/healthy habits staved off the onset of Parkinson’s Disease. 

Movement. Getting up. Exercising. My Dad didn’t run triathlons or enter the UFC ring. He got on an exercise bike for 30 minutes a day and lifted light weights. He also made better food choices and chose to actively live his life: traveling, learning, and enjoying entertainment.

At this point,  he is responding well to medications and needs moderate amounts of artificial dopamine, which is fantastic. And he still moves EVERY day. We are all very lucky he made himself and his health a priority all those years ago.

So why share this? To celebrate Dad. Duh.

But also to acknowledge the truth: We only get one body/mind combo. If we treat it right now, it WILL function better later. Movement is a key factor in that equation. 

One last thought: You know, when we’re kids, we think our parents have it all figured out, but once we become adults, we realize how little they knew. They were just figuring it all out as they went along, too, like we are NOW.  

My Gen X folks…this is us… my kind, handsome Dad was our age when he decided to make changes. Changes that likely gave him 20 years… twenty extra years. GOOD years with grandchildren and family and travel and friends and laughter.  

The final bottom line is: Movement is medicine. Get up.

The End

Hard Knox

I've got loads of new stuff working, but nothing that's ready for public viewing. For the next several posts, I'll be sharing some of my super short fictional stories (from those 24-Hour Contests) as well as some new non-fictional shorts. 

This week's feature: HARD KNOX 

A LOT can happen in less than a thousand words. 

📷credit: Thank you, Pixabay User

Hard Knox

Tommy shimmied to the top of his favorite lookout tree. The Hawke Farm sprawled out below him. Kids in the group home longed for a spot on the spacious farm, and now he knew why. The surrounding woods were great to roam around and explore. Plus, the Hawkes were nice and fed kids. A lot. To make things even better, Tommy, 14, hadn’t had a single episode since he arrived. 

A week after his arrival, a brother and sister showed up. Jake, 10, and Melody, 12. The three foster siblings had become inseparable in the six months they’d been together. 

Shielding his eyes, Tommy squinted into the distance. It wasn’t his imagination, “Hey, guys...car!” 

A car usually meant one of two things: an arrival or a departure.

Jumping down, Tommy took off after the other two. The cool sunlight danced between the rippling leaves as the kids raced through the woods.

When the trio returned to the farmhouse, they saw a woman in a suit standing on the porch. Child Services. One of them was going. Suit Lady would already be inside drinking tea if it was a newbie. 

The kids snuck through the back door and peered around the corner to listen. 

“I’ve found his parents, and they want him. It’s not negotiable. I’m taking him.” Suit Lady said.

“Well, sorry, ma’am, Tommy’s not here,” Mr. Hawke shrugged. “I reported him unaccounted for days ago.”

Tommy exchanged glances of horror with Jake and Melody. What was Mr. Hawke doing? Why would he want to keep Tommy from his parents? And why would he make a fake report? Days ago? They just had breakfast together an hour ago.

There was no way Tommy was missing an opportunity to be with his real parents again. After all these years. 

Turning, he crept up the narrow staircase to his bedroom and threw all his belongings in his bag. He knew the drill and had learned to travel light years ago.

On the way downstairs, he stopped. This should be a dream come true, but he felt all hot and tingly. Was he about to have one of his episodes? He took a deep breath. He had to find out the truth about who he really was. He needed his family. 

Bounding down the rest of the steps, he stomped louder than usual. After quick nods and half hugs, Jake and Melody waved. Tommy would miss them, but a real family trumped all else in the eyes of foster kids.

“I’m packed. Ready to meet my parents,” Tommy glared at the Hawkes as he strode out from the hallway hiding place. “How could you do this?”

“You’re making a mistake, son,” Mr. Hawke warned while Mrs. Hawke wrung her hands in worry. 

“I see he’s here and fine. You’ll be hearing from the authorities,” Suit Lady said, urging Tommy along, “Let’s go.”

Tommy flinched when she put her arm around him, but he followed her to the car anyway. 

Halfway up the driveway, the Suit Lady’s phone rang. She answered and uttered two words, “It’s done,” and hung up.

She stopped the car and turned to face Tommy in the backseat. Her face twisted, and her eyes blackened. 

Tommy jerked back in fear. What was happening?

Black-Eyed-Suit-Lady slid something out of her sleeve. “Mr. Hawke was right. You should’ve stayed. You stupid kids and your false hopes someone cares about you.”

In a blink, she lunged over the seat and plunged a syringe into his neck. Tommy gasped and clawed at his throat. The world around him darkened as he lurched forward. His body exploded into the seatbelt, and a black nothingness took hold. He was gone.

Tommy’s eyes fluttered open. It took him a minute. He was alive. He had no pain. But he was strapped down. Where? When? What happened? He was about to choke on his own breath when he heard a familiar voice. 

“I think he’s awake,” Melody whispered.

“Oh, thank heavens!” Mrs. Hawke rushed in with a smile and unbuckled his restraints, “So sorry about this. You were thrashing and screaming. That’s over now that the poison has worn off.”

“Poison? What? Huh?” Tommy croaked through his groggy worry.

Before he could ask more questions, Melody set ice chips in front of him and patted his arm, “You’re going to be okay.”

“She right, Tommy,” Mr. Hawke strode into the room, “This Farm is a safe house for orphaned Huntsmans and Huntresses. We have our very own communities all over the place to watch out for our people, especially our abandoned children. Occasionally, an evil force gets through our security. If a child leaves of their own free will, there is nothing we can do. However, if any evil harms a child, like poisoning them, we will absolutely intervene.”

“Whoa… poisoning, and Huntsman?” Tommy sat up. “What’s a Huntsman?”  

“Special humans tasked with helping change the world. For the good.” Mrs. Hawke said.

“That sounds cool,” Tommy replied. That was why he’d always felt different. He was.

“You know what I say... ‘it’ll be hard knocks,’” said Mr. Hawke, “‘but you can handle it.’”

“Hmmm... I’m not sure Tommy can, though, especially with bad people looking for him.” The boy thought out loud.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Hawke asked.

“I want to change my name,” The boy rubbed his chin until his face lit in a hopeful smile, “From now on, I will be known as Knox...Knox Hawke?” 

“I think that sounds perfect, son.” Mr. Hawke smiled and patted the boy’s shoulder. “Welcome to the family, Knox.” 

The End

A New Deal

  Part 5 and the Finale of Short Story: A Deception

📷credit: Thank you, sanoojck

A New Deal

Hades stepped up and rested his hand on Janus’ shoulder, “I hate to interrupt, but you should know I told her I appreciated the help, and I’d take you guys as long as you’re willing. There’s no way I’m going to bind you to guarding the Underworld based on the word of a Siren,” Hades gave her a wink, “No offense, but I had a suspicion.”

“Well, I never!” Nari stuck her bottom lip out and stalked off.

“Say thank you to the nice god for not damning us here for Eternity, darling,” Janus called after her, his eyes dancing with amusement until…

Hades cleared his throat, “Look man, I’ve got to get going, but I will warn you; this entrance is about to get busy. Hydi and her sister Helga are ready to take over whenever you’re ready to vacate. They need a few days to arrive and adjust.”

“You got the Hydra Sisters to come back?”

“I did,” Hades grinned and puffed his chest. “It took some convincing, but I can be pretty persuasive.”

“Indeed, you can, old friend. And I am ready to leave this all behind,” Janus held out his arms, then clapped them together, getting down to business, “We can be out of here by the end of the week? That’ll give Nari several days of feasting before we head out.”

“Sounds good,” Hades gave him a pat on the shoulder, then stopped, “You know, I do have a gig similar to this one in the Bermuda Triangle. Warmer. Southern. Digs are way better than this place,” Hades looked around, “This really is terrible.”

“It is,” Janus chuckled. Even though the pain of the damned haunted him, he crossed his arms, “Tell me about the gig. Details, Hades…you know that’s where the devil lies.”

“I need to open another entrance. I’ve decided to separate the damned from the blessed. The dark souls will keep coming here, but I’m rerouting the light souls south. It will be some good feasting for a bit. After that influx, there will still be plenty to sustain Nari and keep her happy. You guys can stay as long as you like. No long-term commitment,” said Hades.

“Maybe. What’s in it for us?”

“Aside from a happy siren?” Hades put his hands in a prayer position at his heart, “There’s a little hut on a tiny island in the middle of oceanic nowhere. Very much off the beaten path.”

“Hmmm…” Janus stroked his chin, weighing his options. Warmth. Sunshine. No people. The blessed brought peace instead of pain. His love would be happy. Seemed right up his alley. A smile broke out across his face, “And I’m sure there are margaritas?”

“Hells,” said Hades, “I’ll have a margarita machine installed in your hut and pay that outrageous tab you’ve got at the Tiki Hut.”

“That tab’s a helluva an offer! AND my own machine?” Janus threw back his head and laughed, “How could I say no?”

Hades extended his hand, “Middle of next week sound good?”

“Sun and warmth in ten days? You bet it does.” Janus said, shaking hands.

A new deal was made.

The End