Consider Your Condition
BE THANKFUL FOR your health. At least, spend a moment to wish Wes Tollefson well. He's the founder and former pastor of the Shepherd of the Valley Lutheran Church in Maple Valley. He hadn't been retired long when Parkinson's disease compromised his life.
He is 76, and the central-nervous-system disease has progressively robbed him of balance, strength and the simple mind-body connection we take for granted. He could quit.
"I can't" are the easiest words for anyone. That is especially so when you have a serious and chronic condition. But each Wednesday morning, he shows up at Valley Fitness Center, inside Renton's Valley Medical Center, to work under the supervision of trainer Tim Vagen.
With Parkinson's and other diseases, goals and regimens change daily. Vagen begins each session with little tests to gauge Tollefson's capabilities. Touch left knee with right hand, left hand to right knee and so on. How Tollefson does that day tells Vagen how far they can go. Tollefson walks and stops, and walks again. He squats to work on his balance and to build his posterior muscles so when he falls, he is more likely to fall forward. For cardio and hand-eye coordination, he slaps a punching bag for three one-minute rounds and loves it so much he wants one for home. He used to bow hunt, so Vagen has him use a stretch band to go through a slingshot motion.
In the pulpit, Tollefson had a voice so strong he didn't need a microphone. Speaking is hard for him now. But he doesn't need to tell you how determined he is. He shows it. He puffs his cheeks to help recruit the stamina and concentration needed to play catch with a 4-pound ball. When he began working with Vagen, who operates a personal-training company called Unlimited Athlete, he did so from a wheelchair. Now, he does drills upright.
"Wes is a different person from when I started working with him," Vagen says. "We don't have any big specific goals. We work week to week, day to day. He loves it, and I know it helps his wife, who cares for him."
His wife, Florence, is 76, too. She's proud of Wes and how he works on basic movements like marching and sidestepping at home. He has improved to a degree that she can sleep at night because he can take care of himself for the most part.
"You can't give up," she says. "I guess it's selfish on my part, but the longer he is able to do this the less I will have to do. He told me he really didn't want to go to a nursing home, and so this is helping him stay at home, too."
They aren't alone. Their grown children and church buoy the couple, married 54 years.
Tollefson isn't alone in trying to navigate a life-altering disease, either. Exercising with any serious medical condition is frustrating and tricky. That line between doing good and doing harm keeps moving. Doing nothing is understandable, sometimes expected. But everyone with a condition should stay in condition, if they can. They need to change the definitions that used to guide their lives.
Check out associations that represent your particular disease or condition. They often have a good handle on classes and programs, and sometimes have a line on trainers.
Carole Marshall, a medical assistant and certified personal trainer specializing in senior health and fitness, tackles the question of elusive goals in her helpful book, "Maximum Fitness, Minimum Risk." She favors hospital-based wellness classes and programs because experts who understand their condition help people. The settings are nurturing and non-competitive.
Her book addresses strategies for people of various personalities. I'm somewhere between the "former athlete" and the "busy bee." The former athlete is troubled and confused by the scaled-back challenges. The busy bee is too preoccupied to invest the time in his or her own health.
The psychological component is hard. I'm still adjusting to the very idea that I have multiple sclerosis. Incremental workouts try my patience, and I get so involved in my work that exercise often slides down the to-do list.
"Optimal health, when you have a serious condition," Marshall reminds me, "is being the best you can be for where you are in that point of your life."
Richard Seven is a Pacific Northwest magazine staff writer. He can be reached at rseven@seattletimes.com. Scott Cohen is a Seattle freelance photographer.
This is a good time of year to read a book like "I Remember Running: The Year I Got Everything I Ever Wanted — and ALS." Getting thrown for a loop, as author Darcy Wakefield did with her diagnosis of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (often known as Lou Gehrig's disease), brings a host of reactions. It's nice to read an account like hers, hopeful yet realistic.
She writes about living a full life, something to be thankful for.