Everyday I go to the gym, and for good reason. Not only are big Harleys easier to move around, but it's nice not to look (and feel) sixty years of age. My hair is thick, and while those good genes are a blessing, having a barbell habit for over thirty years has helped, as well.

But I got a health scare this weekend--right after the joy of watching the Packers win.

I've had a deep chest cold for almost a month. Using the old kill-or-be-killed mode of facing challenges, I worked out even harder. I spent 118 minutes on The Gaunlet making sure I cleaned my lungs out.

Right after the game I started that usual throat clearing and cough, but this time when I covered my mouth with a snow-white hankerchief I got a handful of blood. Call me old fashioned, but I have that old-world belief that blood should stay inside your body.

I got up this morning and called for a doctor's appointment, and while on hold, I coughed again. This produced deep brown blood. It was clear it wasn't going away. I hadn't smoked in about 40 years, but I had smoked, and my wife and I had a little chat--a fellow teacher of hers, a non-smoker, just died of lung cancer last week. She had to go to work, and I had to go to the clinic. 'Nuff said for now.

I did stop by my psychiatrist's office on the way in. I sharpen traditional knives for his mother, as she is a Japanese immigrant. We chatted informally, and I coughed again. I hope the stains come out of all these hankerchiefs.

If you're a movie fan having seen the flick "All That Jazz," then you'll know the silent horror you feel as doctors, nurses and x-ray technicians poke and huddle. And since "diagnostic imagining" is now digital, I was informed to go into the doc's office and sit and spin for about 15 long minutes.

Funny about the human psyche' and fear. I'll beat to you half to death with saloon pool cue and just work up a nice appetite. But let me tell you about being alone with 15 minutes of real fear.

Then the door opened.

“Well, Chico,” Dr. Aughie began, “your vitals look good. In fact, your pulse and blood pressure are remarkably low. Your lungs displace over six liters, and frankly it’s hard to believe you’re sixty years old.”

“Did you read my chest x-ray,” I asked.

“Sure did, got it right here on the computer,” he responded, “Take a look, clear as a bell. You’re the healthiest sick person I’ve ever seen.”

“Where’s the blood coming from?”

“Well, with your muscle tone, you cough hard, really hard. You managed to break a number of alveoli, small little air sacks inside the lung.”

“Can I still work out?” I asked.

“Sure,” he laughed, “but go a bit easier--I can’t afford to waste time ignoring the really sick folks…”

Yikes, what an idiot, a self-inflicted wound. However, if you're smoking a cigarette as you read this, do yourself a favor and stub it out. Make it the last one. Trust me, I have never been so frightened.

It's about suppertime here in Wisconsin, and already it's as dark as midnight. My mood is much better, and a quiet house and a "shot of anise" is probably the reason. Yeah, I know it's poison, but 40 years on a Harley, a redhead and coughing up blood hasn't killed me, so what the hey...

If I wasn't so dang comfortable I'd go out and buy a lottery ticket.

In all of the excitement, I missed a work-out. Yikes, bi's and tri's now scheduled on a Tuesday, who'd a' thunk it. I suppose someday we'll all laugh about this, but I think when the wife gets home and we eat I'll turn in early--that is, if I can sleep.

Any of you guys have a bad day? My doc says that the psycho offices are filled like a full-moon.

Good to hear that you are back in shape!

Well, physically, yes. "Mentally" is always a maybe.

I got back from the gym about an hour ago. I thought that I might turn it down a notch, so I only did 45 minutes on The Gaunlet to begin, then bi's and tri's, some crunches and then another 45 minutes.

I have to admit, I was a bit afraid to actually face that first deep chest cough. Looks like things are clearing out. However, it was a scary experience.

I know guys who brag, "When it's my time, I'll go" as they foolishly light up. I wish these guys could have sat beside me during the exam, the x-rays and the lonely wait as my fate was being decided. I pray I never face that terror again.

Sounds like nothing but good news there Chico. Nothing like a good scare to make you feel alive,eh,lol.

"Live like you were dying."

I understand the concept, but I think bikers live that life, anyway. If anything, I was gripped by total fear, and I doubt I could ride a bull named "Fu Manchu."

The concept of 'bravery' is actually your ability to function when scared. And I believe facing certain death is the hardest thing a guy can do. Millions of soldiers, but very few CMoH medals. It's a horrible experience.