Going along with my weight and health issues post earlier, here's an excellent post about how to support someone with an eating disorder which phinnia posted on her own journal. Helpful stuff in there. In high school I was full-on bulemic. More recently I was a binge eater. I'm still struggling with these things even though I've come a long way.
Between the refreshing cold, the sunny sky, and my re-acknowledged need to get back in shape, I decided to head out for a walk in the snowless, chill still-life of the local landscape. I strapped on those longtime friends of mine, my hiking boots. I remembered that even my cold tolerant skin could use an extra jacket, a hat, and a pair of gloves, and proceeded to remind myself of just why I should be doing this much more often.
With the wave of depression that came after my hysterectomy, I fell back into my habits of emotional eating. I admit, after all that work losing weight last year, I am almost back up to where I was. A week or so ago, I weighed in at 260 lbs. Ouch.
Worse than the weight itself, I can feel the negative effects it is having on my heart and lungs. I can't walk as far or as fast without overdoing it. I feel thick, stiff, and heavy, as if I have a lead vest harnessed around my middle. My derrière and my thighs feel equally weighed down. As much as I enjoy walking, and like the park down the street for walking in, it was hard work. Granted, it's the kind of hard work that I really need to do more often.
Tomorrow evening I intend to go to the Rochester Women's Community Chorus to see how that works out for me. If I am going to be singing, I owe it to myself to work on my lung capacity, my abdominal strength, and my breath support. If for no other reason, this should motivate me to bring a little more motion into my life. I have no desire to be a shapeless stick figure, but I do want to be able to breath deeply enough to hold my own in a song without grabbing way too many catch breaths.
I have a bad habit of obsessing over goals. Granted, that got me from my high of 273 down to 212-ish last year. Still, I don't want to end up right back where I am now next year. I want to strike a healthy, sustainable balance. Wish me luck and perseverance?
9 years. mechanchaos and I have been married for 9 years. We have been together for a little more than a decade. Dude. That's no small accomplishment.
We didn't do
I was stagnating long before the sick brought us to our knees. Getting exhausted be a trip to buy pillows and tissues, or a trip to the doc isn't helping matters much. It was practically t-shirt weather out there for me! I do not doubt that I am a cool weather girl. 60 degrees out and I'm ready to start calling it springtime, even if I know it won't last.
I'm alert enough to be bored, but fatigued enough to be frustrated. So here I am, bumming around the computer, too woobly in the head to WoW without feeling motion-sick, and randomly adding people just because I've been listening to a lot of Ruki Vverh today and decided to do a search for them in interests. At least the music isn't making my ears explode today. I like the option of silencing my mental DJ with real music. Did I mention bleurgh?
( quizzie thingy )
Have any ideas on how I could better entertain myself in ways that won't remotely exacerbate dizziness or turn me into a quivering pile of fatigue beans?
Holy shit, yesterday was "interesting." I spent the bulk of the day with a temperature exceeding 103F. Yesterday evening it was up to 103.7. It really says something that I looked at the 101.5 this morning and my heart soared. Moreso that I saw the 99.1 this evening and ran to tell my son that I was finally below 100 (for the first time since Wednesday evening)! Funny how the priorities in life narrow considerably in the face of yicky sicks.
Happy Birthday, aquinasprime!
89% Dennis Kucinich
87% Mike Gravel
79% Joe Biden
78% Chris Dodd
78% Barack Obama
77% John Edwards
73% Bill Richardson
72% Hillary Clinton
35% Rudy Giuliani
31% Ron Paul
28% John McCain
21% Mike Huckabee
21% Mitt Romney
12% Fred Thompson
11% Tom Tancredo
2008 Presidential Candidate Matching Quiz
It turns out this is the holiday weekend of sick. It hurts enough when I swallow that I need to brace my body and I shake afterward. This is after gargling with salt water, using chloroseptic, drinking other water, and suckling on a Luden's. Last night I had a long, steaming shower and bubble bath. That didn't help much either. The ibuprofin seems to be keeping the sinusplosion headaches away. A few minutes ago, I finally broke into the amoxicillin that the doc gave me on Thursday. My rationale is that I feel miserable enough that anything that could have a remote possibility of cutting it short is worth a try, and if I've started it too early, by the time I run out there'll be more time to get to the doctor again for more. When I finish typing this, I'll be putting the water on to boil for chamomile tea.
I thought I'd be meeting up with the Genesee Valley Druid Study Group for a trip to Mendon Pond Park this evening for sunset. Instead, I am scraping and scrounging for enough spoons to do the bare minimum of holiday prep before my Mom gets here on Monday.
My Aunt and Uncle expect us all over at 1pm on Sunday. Thing is, my Uncle had a heart attack on December 13. There's a chance that they won't want me over to jeopardize his health. I'd love to see dawnstar, kolys, and Liam, but if I'm still gacking up yuck by then I will not want the little guy exposed to this either.
I wanted to sing along with the choir at their Christmas Eve service, but if my throat is still this bad, there is no way I'm going to talk let alone sing.
OK. Enough whining to satisfy my Garumphy self.
( The silver lining. )
So... Thank you ecwoodburn, for the gift that helped me through yesterday evening and gave me a measure of fun in the midst of the sicky uck. Bubble baths are definitely for grownups too. :)
Thank you mechanchaos, for running with my whim and helping me explore another of my playful sides.
Hormonal overload -- check.
Spotting -- check.
Overies practicing capoeira --- check.
Emotional roller coaster ride -- check.
Holy shit, it looks like I'm having a period.
cackles maniacally as she realizes that it was the full moon last night as well
Well, I guess this answers several questions for me. I am still decades away from menopause. Years of hormonal birth control have not torn my natural hormones completely asunder. Given a chance to work on their own, my moon days seem to want to truly be moon days...
What an odd curse to have...
Now that I'm no longer a poster girl for menorrhagia, I find that I have the libido of a 19-year-old. This would be all well and good... except that my body isn't ready for it yet. It'll be all well and yummy while things are getting down and dirty. Then I wake up feeling like my lower abdomen's been hit by a bus.
It would be fine, if I wasn't hungering in a way I hadn't been in years...
I was feeling better today. So, what do I do with my feeling better? I tried some light housework: washing a couple dishes, cleaning the stove's surface, consolidating laundry in bags, putting fresh sheets on the bed. Really, it wasn't that much. It didn't require any heavy lifting. This stuff would've been a warm-up to the real cleaning before I had my surgery.
So why am I now shaky and dizzy?
Perhaps I was able to sleep more deeply last night than I had since going under the morcellator. Maybe it was the Vicodin eking its way out of my system. It could be the deep belly laughs I had yesterday and the day before with mechanchaos. I'm inclined to believe all of the above and more.
Today I feel like I've been shoved in a sack and beaten with hefty ash staves by aspiring thugs, in addition to the dizzies, the shakiness, and the woobliness.
Tingles turn shaky as consciousness drifts with corruption. Sweet comforts turn sour.
Yesterday, about a half an hour before I was due for another round of meds, I realized that I was experiencing withdrawal symptoms. I was dizzy, trembling, and nauseous. That was the turning point. Scales had tipped: side effects outweighed the benefits. As of today, I decided I needed no more Vicodin in my system.
I'm still shaky, my stomach is still tremulous. I both am and am not dizzy. My head is filled with a fog that is neither gentle nor reassuring. Reality is here, and I am slowly reintegrating into it.
Perhaps this is why I'm not afraid of addiction. I'd rather cross the wasteland of withdrawal than follow the spiral of increasing dosages. The scales tip and my choice becomes clear.
This is one place where I have less in common with my father. He'd wake up in this half world, and seek the drink to take him back. The pull of unreality was always stronger to him than the promise of vivid life on the far side of withdrawal. I live most of my life in the throes of acute sensation, of reality in all its colors and textures. Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something.
I've been home today since before noon. I forget the exact time. It's nice not to be pestered day and night for vitals and exams. I'm missing the morphine pump now that it's just ibuprofin and Vicodin keeping me going. That said, I've had bad menstrual cramps and bad gas pain that felt worse than this.
My doc said that this laproscopic hysterectomy went as well as one could. I had minimal bleeding. Hell, the pads they gave me didn't get a drop of blood on them. After so many years of menorrhagia, I figured I'd have some blood while I was healing up from surgery.
I have three small incisions: two are 1 cm long one is 0.5 cm long. I'm sore in the abdomen, but not so much that I can't navigate the apartment.
Cuddling the cats was nice. So far they've stayed near my feet and away from my belly.
It was nice to get visits from dawnstar and kolys.
Time to take some more Vicodin for now. ***hugs everyone and wishes them a good night***
I just called in to find out when they want me in. The surgery is scheduled for 7:30 in the morning. I need to be there at 6.
My nerves, which have been a constant shrill background noise for the past week or so, have just ratcheted up considerably. My stomach is acting like an aspiring flamenco dancer. Why is it that when I'd most like to slip away from the impending reality, my chemistry insists that I feel everything so much more acutely?
I can joke about it all I want, but the fact of the matter is that medical stuff terrifies me in general. Tomorrow petrifies me in particular.
My hands are shaking. Tears are threatening.
Dude. My anxiety can shut up now, please.
I could use a hug.
News from my pre-op visit: They are intending to perform my hysterectomy laproscopically. Of course, something could come up that causes complications such that a laproscopic hysterectomy won't be feasible, but the odds are against that. That's a measure of relief to know. It should cut down my recovery time. Chances are, they'll be sending me home from the hospital on Thursday, July 26, with pain meds in hand.
I had my pre-admission testing yesterday at Highland Hospital. It was mostly paperwork, a basic physical, and two vials of blood drawn. To her credit, I had the gentlest phlebotomist I had ever experienced. Though it would happen to be me who gets the curious Afro-Caribbean-American nurse the day I wear Van Van from BPAL. Her opinion: "It is unusual, but pleasant. I don't know about that name, though."
My day was rendered much more pleasant by a trip to not one but two first-run movies. Who knew I'd get to see Harry Potter 5 and Transformers in one day.
I have less than two weeks to go before my surgery.
While mechanchaos was off, we got up to Alexandria Bay in the Thousand Islands for a respite from normalcy. The only definite plan we had was a reserved room in an inexpensive motor lodge and a wish to visit Boldt Castle.
We took each day as it came, got to have a lot of fun and a lot of relaxation at the same time. I swear, that's what vacations ought to be. It had no strict itinerary to follow, no planning ourselves ragged.
On the way back, I got to clamber over the rocks, wade in the water, skip some stones, and schlurple some Bev's soft serve in Oswego. It's funny. I miss the college more for the people and the lake than for the school itself. Feeling the seaweed in between my toes was like coming home, but a home that has been left mostly empty of what made it meaningful to me. Ah well.
Someday, I'd love a boat. Maybe a home on the water somewhere.
Oh, and it's less than three weeks until I have my hysterectomy now. The big countdown has begun.