Fabgrandpa

A Year Can Change A Lot

It has been a year since Fabgrandpa passed away. It still feels so surreal. It still hurts just as much as it did on the day he died. Becky and Becca came and stayed with me, helping me make sure that he had the pain medication that he needed, helping me hold his hand, helping me love him as much as we could love on him in the short time that was left. He started going downhill in the first week of February. One short month was all we had left. One night Seth was there, and he off handedly asked if Fabgrandpa had any of his music on his computer. The hospice company had brought out a hospital bed and put it in the living room. His computer was right next to the bed. Seth took a look, and found several songs that Fabgrandpa had downloaded. Frank Zappa. His favorite musician. When Seth started the first song, Fabgrandpa got the biggest smile on his face, he was conducting the band with his hand in the air like he always did, and tapping his foot. The man had not spoken to us or opened his eyes for a couple of days, but when he heard that music, he was the happiest man alive. Because of that, I KNEW that Fabgrandpa could hear all the things we said to him. It was a gift to us all.

He wanted to be cremated, and did not want a service of any kind. The funeral home came and picked up his body in the night after he died. It only took a couple if days before they called me and said I could come pick up his remains, except that the phone call went like this:

“Mrs. Eidson, this is the funeral home in Buchanan. You can come pick up Mr. Eidson at any time.”

I was eating breakfast with Becca at the Waffle House at the time. When I told her about that conversation, we both laughed until we cried. And in a couple days after that, Becky and Emily went with me to pick up his ashes. We put the package on the back seat of the car, next to Emily. On the way home, Emily included Fabgrandpa in the conversation, just as if he really was sitting beside her. That also made us laugh. I still have his ashes in a box in a bag in my closet. Sometimes it feels kind of creepy to have them there, so close, in the bedroom. I try not to think about it.

So, since March 2, 2020, here are all the things I have done that have changed my life:

I said goodbye to my husband.

I worked every day until from March 3 until mid June, getting the house ready to sell and packing up and sorting out stuff in the house. I made stacks for trash, for thrift store, for moving sale, and for keeping. I kept way too much. I have things in a storage unit that I need to get rid of.

I had to file to probate Fabgrandpa’s estate because he died without a will. Take a lesson from this: If you do not have a will, even if you think you don’t have anything, get one made. All it needs to say is that you leave everything to your spouse. If your spouse is already gone, or you don’t have one, it needs to say who you want to leave your estate to. Example: I want my estate to go equally to all of my children, and if one of your children is a stepchild, then include them by name. It will make it so much easier for whoever is left behind to take care of business. Because the Probate Judge’s office was closed due to Covid-19 for almost two months, I had to wait to file. It takes 30 days to probate, so I was not able to list the house to sell it until the end of June.

I had a moving sale. It was a huge success. We put signs out in four places, giving mileage from those points, and making arrows pointing in the direction. We had so many people come to the sale my niece and I were not able to eat lunch. We made over $2200 in one day. People bought old magazines, books, over the counter medications, food out of the cabinets, dishes, pots and pans, knick knacks, old sheets, old blankets, my old clothing, just everything. What was left over, Timothy, the kid next door, loaded in my car, and we took it to the thrift store in Tallapoosa that takes things on consignment. We took about 5 carloads of stuff there. I’m still getting payouts from that.

My son, Seth; my grandson, Michael; and Timothy came on June 27th with a moving truck and a car trailer. They loaded up the things I was keeping in the truck, and put my car on the trailer hooked to the back of the truck. Michael and Timothy followed Seth and I in Seth’s car, and we set off on our adventure of moving me to Colorado. I called around to get quotes for renting a truck. The prices were very different from company to company. I decided to use Penske, because 1. they were having a sale, which saved me about $300, 2. they offered a military discount on top of the sale, which saved me another $150, and 3. they did not charge extra for mileage. That was a HUGE saving over U-Haul, because mileage really adds up, especially if you are moving halfway across the country.

We arrived at my daughter, Becca’s house on July 1. They unloaded my things, some of them at Becca’s house, and some at the storage unit. Seth and the boys were able to stay about 5 days before they had to go home. We went to Rocky Mountain National Park, to Estes Park, to Georgetown, and other places. Both of the boys were in awe of the mountains.

Becky listed the house for sale on July 1. We had a cash offer for the full asking price within three days. It took about three weeks to close the deal. I didn’t have to be there for the closing. The closing attorney send me a package of paperwork for me to sign. Then I had to take them to get them notorized, then drop them off at FedEx to send back to Georgia. It was so easy it was ridiculous. It was the easiest thing that I have done in the last year. The money appeared in my bank account like magic a couple of days later. The sale of that house was very different from when we bought it.

After the boys left to go home, I had a doctor appointment to get established as a new patient with a primary care doctor. She referred me to an endocrinologist; a pain management group; a grief counselor; and also made an appointment for me to have a mammogram. The mammogram turned out abnormal, so I was scheduled for an ultrasound and biopsy. The biopsy was malignant, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. I had to also have an MRI of my breasts. There were three tumors in total, all in my left breast. When I met with the surgeon, she said I had two choices. The first choice was to have a lumpectomy, which would be followed by chemotherapy and radiation treatments. The second option was to have a mastectomy, and then take an estrogen blocker for five years. I decided to have the mastectomy, because I did NOT want to have chemo or radiation, and all three tumors were in one breast. If there had only been one lump, I might have decided on a lumpectomy. But not with three. Surgery was on September 10, 2020.

If this all sounds like a lot of changes to you, you are correct. It feels like I have lived ten years in the one year since Fabgrandpa has been gone. It has been a very hard year for me. I have cried a lot, been lonely a lot, been through a lot. I miss Fabrandpa so very much. He was my sweetheart for more than 28 years. I’m still seeing the grief counselor. I’m hoping that it will begin to get easier to live without him. If Covid-19 would go away, I might be able to get out and make some new friends. I think that would help a lot. I miss my friends back in Georgia, more than I thought I would. I’m going to make it through this. Y’all know I will.

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How Did I Get So Much Stuff??? Or, How Do You Pack Up A Life And Move On…

Karen · 1 Comment

Since I haven’t written anything remotely personal since February 3, it’s going to take several days, maybe weeks, of posts to fill you in on what’s been going on with me. The first half of 2020 has been a difficult year for everyone, I am sure. But to me, it seems like my whole world has fallen into a hole that I don’t know how to get out of.

One of my favorite pictures. I loved that man with all my heart, and I know he loved me back. I miss him so much!

First, on January 1st, my sister called to tell me that our Mother was in transition, that she was dying, and that I needed to come to the assisted living home where she was in hospice care. Mama died on January 2. I went home for the night, then went back to Douglasville, about 45 miles away, for the funeral.

When I got home from Mama’s funeral, I was telling Fabgrandpa about what a unique and interesting service the pastor had done for Mama, including that he wrote a song for her. It was called “Vera’s First Day in Heaven.” Fabgrandpa told me then that he felt like he was ready to go. I laughed it off, and told him not to talk like that. But then, on March 2, my Honey Bunny Sweetheart followed my Mama down that path.

The next week was when the governor of Georgia called for everyone to stay home. Businesses closed. Government offices closed. Restaurants closed except for take out. We were ordered to wear masks every time we left our homes. Since Fabgrandpa died without a will, I could not do anything with our finances until I went through probate. But, the Probate Judge’s office was closed. It stayed closed for about two months. I was finally able to file the paperwork to start the probate process in May. It takes thirty days for the process to flow through the system. Your “request for 12 months support for yourself as the surviving spouse” has to be advertised in the legal section of the newspaper for four consecutive weeks. If for some reason the newspaper doesn’t publish your legal ad one week, the process has to start all over again. Luckily for me that did not happen, and the probate process was completed in the thirty days. This whole process made it a legal thing that I was the sole owner of our house. Since I was the sole owner, I could sell it.

While I loved our little home in Georgia, it still had a mortgage on it. With Fabgrandpa gone, and his Social Security check gone too, I could no longer afford the house. During the time that I was in quarantine in that house for two months, I spent every day going through closets, drawers, and any other type of storage. I had piles of stuff for trash, moving sale, give to the kids, and keep. I packed boxes. Since I can’t lift anything over ten pounds, I packed a box or two a day, and left them sitting where I packed them. Timothy, the teenager who lived next door, came over every evening to play games on Fabgrandpa’s computer. Every day when he got there, he moved boxes for me, took out the trash, cleaned out the litter box, and whatever else I needed for him to do. He was very helpful. I would have never been able to finish that job without him.

A couple of weeks before the probate thing was completed, I had a moving sale. I still can’t believe how many people came, especially since the house was way out in the country. My niece, Stefani, and Timothy helped with the sale, as well as a friend of mine from high school. It was so busy that we did not have time to eat lunch! At the end of the sale, I had made over $2000. It was enough to pay for my move to the Denver, Colorado area. But, I still had a lot of stuff leftover. Timothy and I took several loads of stuff to a thrift store in Tallapoosa, Georgia that takes your stuff on consignment. She pays you fifty percent of what she sells it for. It was really hard to part with things, so much so that I brought too much with me to Colorado. I now have a storage unit to hold the excess until I can figure out what to do with it.

Once I received the phone call from the Probate Judge’s office that the process was finished, I was ready to move. I rented a Penske truck because they had the best deal. They were running a special on the rental fee, and also gave me a military discount because my son, Seth would be driving, and he is a retired Air Force veteran. They also don’t charge a mileage fee. That right there clinched the deal for me. So, Seth, my grandson Michael (who drove Seth’s car and followed us to Denver so they could drive that car home), and Timothy loaded up the truck and moved me to Colorado. We arrived at my daughter and son-in-law’s home on July 1st.

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Grief Moves In At The Fab Household

Karen · 3 Comments

I had so many plans for Fabgrandma for 2020. I was excited for the new year to get here, so that I could put those plans into action. The plan was to talk about a different cuisine each month for a year. I received a Greek cookbook last year, and a Tex-Mex cookbook. I wanted to try some Austrian dishes because part of my heritage is Austrian. However, almost before the year began, those plans went down the drain.

On January 1, I was getting ready to cook our traditional black eyed peas, collards, and cornbread to celebrate the new year. As I walked into the kitchen, my phone rang. It was my sister, calling to tell me that my mother, who was in hospice care, was not responding to her caretakers. She had been told to call in the family. I, of course, dropped everything, packed a few things in a bag, and left. Fabgrandpa didn’t go because he didn’t feel well.

It is only a 45 miles drive from my house to the assisted living home, but I did not want to drive all the way home and then back the next day for who knew how long. I made arrangements to stay at my sister’s house. All of my siblings, their children, and some of their children came. We took turns sitting by our mother’s side, talking to her, holding her hand, reminiscing about our times together. Death came for our Mama on January 2, about 11:45 or so. The official time of death, though, was when the hospice nurse arrived and pronounced her dead on January 3 in the wee hours of the morning. She was 92 years old, and had dementia.

We had her funeral on January 6. Afterwards, I went home to Fabgrandpa. We were sitting in the living room, talking about Mama’s funeral. Fabgrandpa looked at me and said “I am ready to go, too.” I thought I misunderstood what he said, and asked him to repeat it. He did, and I just laughed it off. I told him you are not that bad off, honey.

January rocked on. Fabgrandpa had an appointment with his cardiologist on January 9, but he said he didn’t feel like getting ready to go to it, so I cancelled it. He developed a cold, and it just got worse, so I took him to our primary care doctor. She said he had pneumonia, and gave him a shot of antibiotic, a shot of steroid, and a prescription for an antibiotic to take at home. She also said if he wasn’t feeling better in a week to come back.

Fabgrandpa was a smoker. Even though he had COPD, and now pneumonia, he still took himself out on the porch to smoke several times a day. He fell a couple of times during this time. His legs just gave out from under him and he wound up on the floor. I could not pick him up, so I had to call the fire department, who came out each time and helped him up. They offered to call in an ambulance with a paramedic to check him over, but he refused. He said he would be ok in a few minutes.

I took him back to the primary care doctor on January 20. She listened to his lungs and heart, and gave him another round of antibiotics. She said sometimes when you have COPD, it takes a second round of meds to knock out the pneumonia. We went home, he continued to take the meds, and smoke. During this time, he coughed what seemed like all day and all night. He fell more often, and I called the fire department each time. They were always so kind, so helpful, and always told me that is what they are there for when there isn’t a fire.

Instead of getting better, Fabgrandpa just seemed to continue to get worse. He took longer to walk out to the porch each day. I could hear him wheezing when he was in the bedroom and I was in the living room. I tried to get him to go to his lung doctor, but he wouldn’t go. On February 5, he asked me to take him back to the primary care doctor. He said he was ready to get oxygen for at home, and wanted to talk to her about that. When we got there and she examined him, she said “Mr. Jim, you need to be in the hospital.”

The hospital was not what he wanted, so he told her he wasn’t going, and asked her to just prescribe oxygen for him. The doctor and I talked him into going to the hospital, where he was admitted. I stayed until about 11:30 p.m. to see that he was settled in, then went home to sleep. The next morning I gathered up some things like his inhalers, a couple of magazines, and his slippers, and went back to the hospital. As soon as I walked in, he said, I’m glad you’re here, because I’m going home. We argued about that because the doctor didn’t discharge him. However, he had the right to check himself out against doctor’s advice. I had to take him home. The social worker at the hospital told him if he would stay three more hours, she could arrange to have oxygen delivered to our home. He refused to stay.

It was now Thursday, February 6. Fabgrandpa was still able to walk out to the porch to smoke, but he was falling down on the way back in. He fell three times from Thursday afternoon until Friday night, and couldn’t get up from a sitting position twice. I told him if he would use my walker it would help him, and he could sit on it if he needed to sit.

Somehow we made it until Monday morning, February 10. We went back to the primary care doctor, and asked for them to prescribe oxygen for him. The doctor examined him, and said, “ok, we can prescribe oxygen for him, but it will come with long term hospice care.” I said, OK, let’s do it. That afternoon, the hospital supply company delivered the oxygen. Fabgrandpa started using it immediately. For the next week, he wore the oxygen 24 hours a day, except for when he walked out on the porch to smoke. He did seem to be a little bit better, but he was still coughing, and still falling. I had to call the fire department almost every day the week of February 16.

On Saturday, February 22, we sat down in our recliners to watch TV at about 6:00. He went to sleep in his chair about 8:00. He never completely woke up. He did not ask me to make him anything to eat, he did not try to get up out of the chair. If I said his name loudly, he would open his eyes and look at me, and answer questions with one word responses. I did not understand that I could call the hospice company at any time of day or night. So, I waited until Monday and called them first thing in the morning.

When the RN from the hospice company examined Fabgrandpa on February 24, she told me he was in transition. She ordered a hospital bed, and prescribed several medications for me to give him to keep him comfortable. After she left, I called our children. The ones who live local to us got here quickly. Our daughter who lives in Colorado arrived the next day.

Frank spent a lot of time on the bed with Jim in the last days. On this occasion, he jumped up on the bed, and put his paw on Jim’s hand. They were buddies.

For the next seven days, we had company every day. Fabgrandpa’s niece and nephews, friends, his brothers, all of my family came to visit to say goodbye. As soon as everyone left for the day, the girls and I would pull our chairs up around Fabgrandpa’s bed. We talked about our memories with him, told him we loved him many, many times, kissed him and hugged as much as we could. I am forever in debt to my step-daughter, Becky, because she took over the job of nurse, giving her Daddy his meds, suctioning his throat, keeping him cool.

On Wednesday, my son asked me if Jim had any of his music on his computer. I told him I didn’t know but he could look. Seth found the bookmarked Frank Zappa videos, and started playing them. As soon as Fabgrandpa heard the music, he got a big grin on his face. He was conducting the orchestra with his right hand, and tapping his foot. It was such a wonderful gift! I am sure he enjoyed. We played music for him every day after that.

The girls and I loved Fabgrandpa to the start of his next journey on March 2, 2020, at 12:02 a.m. He died peacefully, surrounded by people who loved him. He was 70. When we got married, he promised me 25 years. I got 28. I only wish I could have had more.

James Martin Eidson

March 13, 1949-March 2, 2020

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Fabgrandpa Turns 70!

Karen · 5 Comments

This year is a very special year for Fabgrandpa because he turned 70 on his birthday. I was going to have a party at our house on the first Sunday in March to celebrate, but when the Weather Channel began reporting that we would have heavy rains that day, I decided to change it to Cracker Barrel. Even with a short notice on the change of venue, we had a party of 26! We all had a wonderful time, and Fabgrandpa and I met two babies who are now over a year old that we had not seen before.

The Birthday Boy. He was pleasantly surprised when we got to Cracker Barrel.

Our nephew, Daniel and his daughter Katherin

Our nieces Tristan and Kinsley, with Tristans baby Jaxson.

Our nephew, Daniel, his wife Alicia, and their children Brodie and Katherin

Our daughter, Emily and son-in-law, Thomas

The littlest Eidson: Elijah, Jeremys baby boy.

Parker says, “quit taking my picure, Granny!”

Jeremy and his wife, Ashleigh, and with Carson, Landon, and Brodie.

Even though we had to wait over an hour to be seated, we were all happy to be together as a family and get to catch up on all the family news. It was a great party!

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Ten Must Be Old For A Blog Because It Is Slow Getting Started

Karen · 2 Comments

Did you ever have a plan that just refused to come together and get started? That is what is going on around here. Every day, I have planned to write a post here, but something in real life just jumped up and bit me in the behind.

Fabgrandpa and Rosie The Boy Cat snoozing in the chair.

Right before Fabgrandpa went in the hospital to have his heart cath done, the dryer quit drying. It still came on and tumbled around, but it did not heat up. I thought it was the heating element, but it turned out to be the timer. I called the store where we bought it four years ago, and asked them to send out a repair person, and they said they would put me on the list. They said it would take about a week. So, on the following Monday when I had not heard from them, I called again. They said my ticket was “not in the basket, so that means it is on the repair guy’s clipboard. That means he has you in line soon.” So I waited until Friday. I called the store again, and was told that “my ticket was in the basket.” Hmmm. Something did not sound right. It’s like they had these standard responses to spit out when someone called.

So, I hung up the phone and googled for an appliance repair business in a 35 mile radius. I found Bremen Appliance Repair. I called them at about 4:30 on Friday afternoon, and they said they would come out the next morning at 8:00 a.m. And they did. I still have not heard from the other place. I never will. Too bad. They will never get any more of my business.

Then, on Sunday, I cooked dinner for my son, Seth, and his two teenagers, Michael and Sarah. They were really appreciative of a home cooked meal. I made a Boston Butt pork roast, fresh creamed corn, green beans, diced potatoes, and fried okra. I sent half of it home with them. By the time dinner was over, I was exhausted from the effort. I love cooking for them, but it just wears me out.

On Monday, I slept all day. That happens to me when I get exhausted. Nothing new. It is just part of my new life after surgery. I feel bad about it sometimes, but it is what is. Fabgrandpa is still recuperating from his cardiac catheterization, so I am trying to do everything. It’s not all getting done, but that’s ok, too.

Tuesday, we went to Carrollton, about 35 miles away, for Fabgrandpa’s lab appointment with the endocrinologist. Turns out his appointment is this week. Doh! I put it on the wrong day on the calendar. Silly me. Another day wasted.

Wednesday, I had to get up at the ungodly time of 5:30 to take Morti to his neuter appointment. The animals have to be dropped off for surgery at 7:30 a.m. I was dragging by the time I got back home. Another day sleeping in the chair. Except that my neighbor called and asked me to take her somewhere. They have been really good to us, and have done so many things for us, that I hated to tell her no. So, I took her, and it wound up being about a three hour thing. I got home in time to make dinner.

Thursday, I got up at 5:00 to go pick Morty up. Yes, they have to be picked up before the new day’s patients get there. He did good in surgery, tested negative for Feline Leukemia, had no fleas, and got a rabies shot. And a tag for his collar. He came home and almost immediately started playing with Rosie The Boy Cat. They get along really good. Most of the time, Morti instigates the roughhousing, then cries like a baby when Rosie gets too rough. Just like some children I used to know. Anyway, more sleeping in the chair. All this activity should be good for me, but it only makes me tired.

Friday. I’m trying to remember what we did on Friday. Probably nothing. Probably more sleeping in the chair. Then on Saturday, the lady who cleans our house once a month came. We went out to lunch, then to the grocery store. When we got home, Fabgrandpa was not feeling well, so I carried them all in, and put them away. Fed the cats. That was my week.

This week, we have that appointment at the endocrinologist on Tuesday. Then on Wednesday, a follow up appointment with Dr. Rouse, the cardiologist. Right now, those are the only two things on my real life calendar. Except that sometime this week I have to go and visit my mother. My plan is to get at least two giveaways posted this week. I know y’all are waiting for them. Then, we’ll see. Life gets in the way sometimes.

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Cardiac Catheterization: Fabgrandpa’s Heart Surgery

Karen · 2 Comments

When we were called and asked to come in to Dr. Rouse’s office just a couple of days after Fabgrandpa’s stress test, I knew it would not be good news. Doctors don’t call you that quick when it is happy or good news. So, when we went in and heard that Fabgrandpa needed to go for a Cardiac Catheterization, I was not surprised. The stress test was on Monday, August 8, the counsultation in Dr. Rouse’s office was on August 11, and his procedure was scheduled for August 18. Dr. Rouse told us that they would do the catheterization, and if they found any blockages, they would insert stents into those arteries. Fabgrandpa would be in recovery for 6-8 hours, and then we would go home. It didn’t happen exactly like that, but we are now back home after a three day, two night stay in the hospital. NOTE: Graphic photos are ahead, if you are squeamish, don’t click to read more.

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Fabgrandpa: Scheduled For A Cardiac Catheterization

Karen · 12 Comments

In the ongoing circle of going to doctors, trying to figure out what is wrong with the man of the house, we have now seen Dr. Howell, the primary care physician; Dr. G, the Ear/Nose/Throat doctor; Dr. Mikolides, the neurologist; Dr. Whitney, The vascular surgeon; Dr. Robinson, the pulmonologist, and now Dr. Rouse, the cardiologist.

The first time we went to see Dr. Robinson was June 22. She took a medical history, and sheduled Fabgrandpa for a lung function test. He has had lung function tests before at the VA, but those were very simple, easy tests compared to what Dr. Robinson did. This lung function test was very sophisticated, with ultra modern equipment. Fabgrandpa sat in what looked like a modern telephone booth, and the breaths he took were recorded electronically. This machine gave Dr. Robinson a ton of information about Fabgrandpa’s lung function. Quite a contrast with the plastic tube that the VA used, which only showed how far he could blow the marker up the tube.

Next, Dr. Robinson changed the medication he was using to see if there would be any change in breathing ability. She also took blood to run a bunch of tests. We were referred to Dr. Rouse, a cardiologist, for a stress test.

With our granddaughter, Sarah at her school play last year.

On Monday last week, Fabgrandpa went to Dr. Rouse’s office for the stress test. Because he can not walk for very long without getting out of breath, they did the chemical stress test, where they inject Fabgrandpa with the chemical, and then monitor his heart function.

On Wednesday, we went back to Dr. Robinson’s office for results of his testing. She told us that he has Alpha–1 Antitrypsin Deficiency, which is an inherited condition that raises your risk for lung and liver disease. She said that even if he had never smoked a cigarette in his life, with Alpha-1, he could still get COPD. Dr. Robinson is setting up a home health nurse who will come to our house once a week and give Fabgrandpa an Alpha-1 injection.

When we got home from the pulmonologist’s office, we got a call from Dr. Rouse’s office, asking if we could come in the next day at 8:00 a.m. We took that appointment and got up bright and early to get there on time.

Dr. Rouse said that the stress test came back as “abnormal”, and he is scheduling a Cardiac catheterization for Thursday, August 18. Next week. All of this is happening so quickly that we are wondering why we didn’t start with the pulmonologist and cardiologist, instead of taking this round about journey to get here. If Dr. Rouse finds a blockage, he will go ahead an insert stents while he is in there with the catheter.

I am nervous, worried, scared, but also hopeful that the things these two doctors aare doing will make my sweetheart feel better. I hope that getting stents will allow Fabgrandpa to feel good enough to go on day trips, and go out and have some fun. All we have done for about two years now is go to doctors. It gets to be depressing, and disheartening, to go from one doctor to another and still feel bad. I’ll let you all know how things go with the Cardiac catheterization on Thursday.

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Fun At The Gym: The Old Folks Break The Equipment

Karen · 8 Comments

We have been trying to go every other day, but sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way. The last time we went, I overdid it, and then did some more stuff at home, and I couldn’t get up out of my chair for a couple of days. Today, we finally went back to do some walking and bicycling again. We both did fine on the tread mill, each walking about 4 minutes. Fabgrandpa went to do some of the machines that work on the muscles of the back, and I went to ride the bicycle. I made it 5 minutes, which was my goal for today.

I went over to the machine that Fabgrandpa was sitting on, trying to figure out how to adjust the seat part so it would go back far enough for him to get his feet on the plates where he would then push with is feet to work his legs. He finally figured out that you have to pull the pin out, then back up some, and put the pin back in a different hole. So, he did that, and started the exercise. The first time he pushed back with his feet, the steel bar that holds the seat in position fell off onto the floor, with a loud clang.

It just so happened that this was the first time there were a lot of other people at the gym the same time we were there. Because, once Fabgrandpa took his feet off the footplates, the seat would slide all the way down to the end of the platform. He would have been stuck there forever, because I wouldn’t have been able to get him off of that thing.

One of the young men, who had just bench pressed 315 pounds, came over and pulled the seat, with Fabgrandpa sitting on it, all the way up to the other end of the platform, so I could put the steel bar back in place. We were all laughing so much, it took a minute to get the bar back in the right place. I know this won’t happen again, since we both learned how to adjust that particular machine.

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