I got a call from Ian last night. After exchanging greetings, we got down to business.
"It was a very sad day at Woodcraft Rangers today," he said. Woodcraft Rangers is the after-school program that he participates in. "Hannah was on the monkey bar and it broke. She fell and broke her arm."
(Oy. I can see yet another debate with Adele about how prudent it is to put PE back in schools coming on.)
"The ambulance came for her." he continued. "There were also two fire trucks. The fire trucks were overkill."
"Overkill?" I repeated back to him.
"Yes Aunt Laura." he sighed. "The firemen surveyed the situation and then left the scene."
These exact words, unprompted, out of the mouth of an eight-year-old.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Dialin' it Down
Weight loss isn't easy. Weight maintance is worse. In fact, I think it may be considered excruciating. When you're losing weight, you have the changing numbers to give you momentary highs... at least when they're going in the right direction. You can do three things. Gain weight. Stay the same. Lose weight. But it's a lot of pressure.
Once you hit maintenance, it is a different kind of pressure. At best, you can maintain. At worst, you can gain weight and fail. I maintained for well over 18 months, then over the last holiday season, I let it go and I gained 9 pounds. I've been struggling with those nine since then.
One of the biggest indicators of permanent weight gain, from my view, is to stop looking at the issue. In my former life, the whole point was to hide from the numbers... I would not get on the scale when I gained. I would not buy clothes to fit my expanding body, and when I was forced to, I made it the larger numbers on the clothes the fault of the clothing manufacturers. Smaller cuts... shrinking fabric.
This time, I decided to handle the issue differently. It's been frustrating, maddening, painful. Despite the gain, I got on the scale each and every day. I wrote to Richard about the issue, letting him know early on that I had a serious problem. I discussed it with Lucy too. My friends knew about it, as did Eric. Family too. They were all very supportive of me in my struggles, but I never expected them to come up with an answer. The problem was mine to deal with.
I don't think that weight gain has as much to do with food as commonly believed. Rather, it has everything to do with changing lifestyles and inability to look at what continues to work and what behaviors are no longer productive in our lives. The obese tend to want to isolate themselves (we have reason... trust me on that), and live in a world of denial where if we don't acknowledge our failures. If they don't exist, we don't feel quite as badly about ourselves.
My lifestyle has changed radically over the last year. Eric came into it and with an intimate relationship, I've had to shift a lot of the things that I do. We're a "we" now, rather than a him and me. That's a wonderful thing and feeling; knowing that we will always have each other's backs. But there's the flip side. Social encounters often mean eating engagements. And trust me, I've eaten.
I never completely lost focus on what could be lost from my life if I let food get out of control, and truthfully, Eric has been more than accomodating in helping me. We tend to go to smaller restaurants, or those that can accomodate my need for lower calorie fare. But as Richard says, and Lucy too... going out for meals is a ticket to weight gain. In order to keep going, I needed to make adjustments in other areas.
The first and most obvious area I could change was my exercise. But that is not so easy. Matters of health keep popping up, forcing me back into either a chair or on a complete hiatus from movement. It was clear that I needed to change my eating habits. But that was a tough nut to crack. I had only been keeping sporadic food journals since last December... hmmmm - a one on one correlation to not wanting to deal with the issue.
Still, I never completely turned away from the issue. And it appears to finally be paying off in dividends. Several things have happened in the past few weeks that have made a significant change. I finally opened up enough to try the meal replacements at HMR. I only take in two a day; not as a substitution for meals but to use as snacks. Truthfully, my Crohns doctor is the one who finally forced this issue because I was not processing real food properly and I was going downhill. Fast. When I started taking them, I got a big surprise. The MRs are nutritionally balanced, and I suddenly was getting vitimans and nutrients that were not being absorbed from real food. I felt better and didn't feel the compulsion to eat so much. As the total calories in the MRs I take in combined are only 200, I know the loss is not because I've turned away from food. Trust me, I'm eating. But there's a physical component that has shifted.
They also had me double up on my daily vitiman. That helped too.
But then there was a very important turning point. Two weeks ago, Richard was holding another of his chats in his clubhouse. He talked about a student at Slimmons who had been struggling. (No, I honestly don't know who this student is.) They were parked next to each other one evening and after class, he saw what she had in the passenger compartment of her car. All sorts of junk food!
At that point, he stopped her and together, they made a written list of her top 10 trigger foods. He had her keep the list and told her to avoid buying anything on it. And she kept her promise and she lost weight.
So I thought about this story and decided that it was worth a try. I decided to list my trigger foods.
1.) Chili Encrusted Dried Mango
2.) Dried Cranberries
3.) Crackers
4.) Bread (if not kept in the freezer)
5.) Hard Candy (I had taken it up as a breath freshener since getting sick)
6.) Protein bars from HMR
I looked at the list. This was all I could come up with! And I realized that my eating habits had changed so fundamentally that I no longer crave cookies and candy and cakes and whatnot. No wonder that my gain had been so slow! What was on the list was just not such a big deal.
I decided to apply Richard's idea along with the other two components that I had added into my life. And remarkably, have lost 5 of the 9 pounds.
I know that this is not the end of the story. But it has been a lesson that is not lost on me. I know in my head and heart that the most important thing I can to to ensure my long-term success is always be willing to look at myself with a rational - not condeming - mind. To be willing to acknowledge not only my successes but my challenges too. (Not failures... just issues.) To be willing to change things up, to experiment, until something clicks into place that works.
My life circumstances are a constant evolution. I need to be sure that my mind evolves along with them.
Once you hit maintenance, it is a different kind of pressure. At best, you can maintain. At worst, you can gain weight and fail. I maintained for well over 18 months, then over the last holiday season, I let it go and I gained 9 pounds. I've been struggling with those nine since then.
One of the biggest indicators of permanent weight gain, from my view, is to stop looking at the issue. In my former life, the whole point was to hide from the numbers... I would not get on the scale when I gained. I would not buy clothes to fit my expanding body, and when I was forced to, I made it the larger numbers on the clothes the fault of the clothing manufacturers. Smaller cuts... shrinking fabric.
This time, I decided to handle the issue differently. It's been frustrating, maddening, painful. Despite the gain, I got on the scale each and every day. I wrote to Richard about the issue, letting him know early on that I had a serious problem. I discussed it with Lucy too. My friends knew about it, as did Eric. Family too. They were all very supportive of me in my struggles, but I never expected them to come up with an answer. The problem was mine to deal with.
I don't think that weight gain has as much to do with food as commonly believed. Rather, it has everything to do with changing lifestyles and inability to look at what continues to work and what behaviors are no longer productive in our lives. The obese tend to want to isolate themselves (we have reason... trust me on that), and live in a world of denial where if we don't acknowledge our failures. If they don't exist, we don't feel quite as badly about ourselves.
My lifestyle has changed radically over the last year. Eric came into it and with an intimate relationship, I've had to shift a lot of the things that I do. We're a "we" now, rather than a him and me. That's a wonderful thing and feeling; knowing that we will always have each other's backs. But there's the flip side. Social encounters often mean eating engagements. And trust me, I've eaten.
I never completely lost focus on what could be lost from my life if I let food get out of control, and truthfully, Eric has been more than accomodating in helping me. We tend to go to smaller restaurants, or those that can accomodate my need for lower calorie fare. But as Richard says, and Lucy too... going out for meals is a ticket to weight gain. In order to keep going, I needed to make adjustments in other areas.
The first and most obvious area I could change was my exercise. But that is not so easy. Matters of health keep popping up, forcing me back into either a chair or on a complete hiatus from movement. It was clear that I needed to change my eating habits. But that was a tough nut to crack. I had only been keeping sporadic food journals since last December... hmmmm - a one on one correlation to not wanting to deal with the issue.
Still, I never completely turned away from the issue. And it appears to finally be paying off in dividends. Several things have happened in the past few weeks that have made a significant change. I finally opened up enough to try the meal replacements at HMR. I only take in two a day; not as a substitution for meals but to use as snacks. Truthfully, my Crohns doctor is the one who finally forced this issue because I was not processing real food properly and I was going downhill. Fast. When I started taking them, I got a big surprise. The MRs are nutritionally balanced, and I suddenly was getting vitimans and nutrients that were not being absorbed from real food. I felt better and didn't feel the compulsion to eat so much. As the total calories in the MRs I take in combined are only 200, I know the loss is not because I've turned away from food. Trust me, I'm eating. But there's a physical component that has shifted.
They also had me double up on my daily vitiman. That helped too.
But then there was a very important turning point. Two weeks ago, Richard was holding another of his chats in his clubhouse. He talked about a student at Slimmons who had been struggling. (No, I honestly don't know who this student is.) They were parked next to each other one evening and after class, he saw what she had in the passenger compartment of her car. All sorts of junk food!
At that point, he stopped her and together, they made a written list of her top 10 trigger foods. He had her keep the list and told her to avoid buying anything on it. And she kept her promise and she lost weight.
So I thought about this story and decided that it was worth a try. I decided to list my trigger foods.
1.) Chili Encrusted Dried Mango
2.) Dried Cranberries
3.) Crackers
4.) Bread (if not kept in the freezer)
5.) Hard Candy (I had taken it up as a breath freshener since getting sick)
6.) Protein bars from HMR
I looked at the list. This was all I could come up with! And I realized that my eating habits had changed so fundamentally that I no longer crave cookies and candy and cakes and whatnot. No wonder that my gain had been so slow! What was on the list was just not such a big deal.
I decided to apply Richard's idea along with the other two components that I had added into my life. And remarkably, have lost 5 of the 9 pounds.
I know that this is not the end of the story. But it has been a lesson that is not lost on me. I know in my head and heart that the most important thing I can to to ensure my long-term success is always be willing to look at myself with a rational - not condeming - mind. To be willing to acknowledge not only my successes but my challenges too. (Not failures... just issues.) To be willing to change things up, to experiment, until something clicks into place that works.
My life circumstances are a constant evolution. I need to be sure that my mind evolves along with them.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Dogs Rule
Both of my dogs are getting up there in years. Given that, like grumpy old men, they are getting really set in their ways. Especially Cosmos.
He has certain - ahem - rituals that must be adhered to. Breakfast at 7. Biscuit at 10. Dinner at 5. And it's time to go to bed prompty at 9:30pm. His bed, which he kindly allows me to share.
When it's time to put him into the bed, he comes to me. Aggitated. Insistant. Crying like a squeaky wheel. And when I ask him if he would like me to put him into the bed, he reacts clearly. A very relieved expression on his face at a minimum. Often he will get up and run in little circles in anticipation. And sometimes I get the impatient bark. "Ok, get on with it. Help me jump in."
When we're by ourselves, I can put him into the bed (he requires assistance these days because he's too arthritic to jump in on his own) and then go on about my own business. But when Eric is over, he needs to monitor the situation. Be sure that Eric is aware that I belong to him. So on those Friday nights that we decide to stay in, we will typically go into the studio and watch TV, Cozie on the floor. And when it's time for him to go to bed, he can still hear what is going on.
This evening was different, though. We decided, ah - around 10pm, that it would be nice to have a cup of tea. I went up into the kitchen to prepare it while Eric stayed behind on my computer. Later joining me at the kitchen table, Cosmos at our feet.
Cozie was clearly aggitated. Not connecting the time with his distress, I initially thought he was looking for a biscuit. I admonished him, telling him that it was just too late to eat and that he would have to do without. But after a little while, it dawned on me that he was ready for bed and it was not acceptable that we should populate the front of the condominium at a time like that.
I asked him if he would like me to put him into the bed. An immediate sharp bark of approval. I got up and he spun in circles so fast that he was hardly even a blur. We walked back, I helped him in, and then I went out front to rejoin Eric.
Within five minutes, I heard a thud in the bedroom, and then Cosmos appeared from out of the hall. Clearly irritated. Tired. Not prepared to put up with this nonsense. He came to us, gave me a pointed stare of disgust, and then proceeded to cry. Loudly.
I looked at Eric helplessly. Asked him if he would mind joining us in the back room. Being the consumate good sport, he immediately agreed.
And so it came to be that the dog hijacked our date night. I put Cozie into the bed, I joined him, and Eric joined us on the other side. We both pet Cosmos although he made it quite clear that only I was important. He pointedly looked away from Eric and rested his head on my waist. And then, to seal the deal, he insisted that I move between him and Eric and he (we) napped, Cosmos pressing up against my back.
Yes, I was the meat-in-the-sandwich. The only thing that would have made it "perfect" was if 'Torn between two lovers' had been softly playing on the radio.
He has certain - ahem - rituals that must be adhered to. Breakfast at 7. Biscuit at 10. Dinner at 5. And it's time to go to bed prompty at 9:30pm. His bed, which he kindly allows me to share.
When it's time to put him into the bed, he comes to me. Aggitated. Insistant. Crying like a squeaky wheel. And when I ask him if he would like me to put him into the bed, he reacts clearly. A very relieved expression on his face at a minimum. Often he will get up and run in little circles in anticipation. And sometimes I get the impatient bark. "Ok, get on with it. Help me jump in."
When we're by ourselves, I can put him into the bed (he requires assistance these days because he's too arthritic to jump in on his own) and then go on about my own business. But when Eric is over, he needs to monitor the situation. Be sure that Eric is aware that I belong to him. So on those Friday nights that we decide to stay in, we will typically go into the studio and watch TV, Cozie on the floor. And when it's time for him to go to bed, he can still hear what is going on.
This evening was different, though. We decided, ah - around 10pm, that it would be nice to have a cup of tea. I went up into the kitchen to prepare it while Eric stayed behind on my computer. Later joining me at the kitchen table, Cosmos at our feet.
Cozie was clearly aggitated. Not connecting the time with his distress, I initially thought he was looking for a biscuit. I admonished him, telling him that it was just too late to eat and that he would have to do without. But after a little while, it dawned on me that he was ready for bed and it was not acceptable that we should populate the front of the condominium at a time like that.
I asked him if he would like me to put him into the bed. An immediate sharp bark of approval. I got up and he spun in circles so fast that he was hardly even a blur. We walked back, I helped him in, and then I went out front to rejoin Eric.
Within five minutes, I heard a thud in the bedroom, and then Cosmos appeared from out of the hall. Clearly irritated. Tired. Not prepared to put up with this nonsense. He came to us, gave me a pointed stare of disgust, and then proceeded to cry. Loudly.
I looked at Eric helplessly. Asked him if he would mind joining us in the back room. Being the consumate good sport, he immediately agreed.
And so it came to be that the dog hijacked our date night. I put Cozie into the bed, I joined him, and Eric joined us on the other side. We both pet Cosmos although he made it quite clear that only I was important. He pointedly looked away from Eric and rested his head on my waist. And then, to seal the deal, he insisted that I move between him and Eric and he (we) napped, Cosmos pressing up against my back.
Yes, I was the meat-in-the-sandwich. The only thing that would have made it "perfect" was if 'Torn between two lovers' had been softly playing on the radio.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Nuttin' Honey
I'm back. Having not only survived the Carotid Artery scan, I have been declared "as clear as a bell." The tech was impressed, stating that he rarely saw people in our age group with absolutely no plaque build up. This, right before he came on to me.
Yup. Yet another pass in a hospital setting. I officially know that he prefers "thin, pretty, and unencumbered by children." Oy. Me thinks I'm really good at putting on make-up or the man needs glasses. Likely both.
The results of the test is a good-news-bad-news scenario, of course. The good news is that I do not have Carotid Artery Disease. That would be a very serious diagnosis. The bad news is that we're still befuddled about what's happening to me.
After I finished up with the test, I stopped by my Cardiologist's office where I received this:
That's right. It's a permission slip to return to exercise class. Hand written and signed by the man himself.
Now it's up to me to decide what I want to do. I have to figure out if I am brave enough to go again after my recent record of failing, or stay at home.
I am vascilating, but I'm starting to lean towards a return.
Yup. Yet another pass in a hospital setting. I officially know that he prefers "thin, pretty, and unencumbered by children." Oy. Me thinks I'm really good at putting on make-up or the man needs glasses. Likely both.
The results of the test is a good-news-bad-news scenario, of course. The good news is that I do not have Carotid Artery Disease. That would be a very serious diagnosis. The bad news is that we're still befuddled about what's happening to me.
After I finished up with the test, I stopped by my Cardiologist's office where I received this:
That's right. It's a permission slip to return to exercise class. Hand written and signed by the man himself.
Now it's up to me to decide what I want to do. I have to figure out if I am brave enough to go again after my recent record of failing, or stay at home.
I am vascilating, but I'm starting to lean towards a return.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Picking Up the Marbles
On Tuesday, I saw my new Podiatrist for the first time. My old one, Dr. B-, seemingly could not make an appointment without changing it... from afternoon to morning, from morning to afternoon... from week to week. We finally hit a point when I could not accomodate his schedule. After we had a 3:30pm appointment for 3 weeks out, I got a call from the office in which he practiced. At 4:30pm the day before. He wanted to change it to 10:45. AM.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, that conflicted with my Physical Therapy appointment. I complained to the staff. Explained to them - and they already knew it - that I had been more than accomodating to his shifting-like-the-sands-of-the-desert schedule without complaint for months now, and this time I couldn't do it. What were we to do?
Dr. B- only practices at that location on Wednesday afternoon, and when queried, they couldn't guarantee that if I made an appointment with him for the following week, he wouldn't change it again. So that was a no-go. Then they suggested that I see the other Podiatrist who was still practicing in their office (and I assume will be taking a larger role with Dr. B-'s eminent departure to another location). After a brief discussion about finances because I did not want to have to pay for another doctor because the first doctor that worked in their office left me hanging post op, we agreed that they would pick up the charges and we made the appointment. For last Tuesday.
I liked her immediately. Dr. K- did not change my appointment, and in fact was right on time. We briefly discussed my surgery and the aftermath; she was surprised at how painful it still was (I hadn't realized it until she gave it a good squeeze which made me jump and yelp) and how weak the toe was. She showed me an exercise in which I was to pick up a pencil from the floor with my toes for the next two weeks ("at least 10 times a day") and she would see me again then. When she would be prepared to make me orthotics for my exercise shoes so that the bones that were clearly shifting in my foot might be contained and we just might delay the onset of yet another Neuroma. Like I said, I liked her.
I told Rocky at Physical Therapy about her. He has been aware of my ongoing concern over Dr. B- and was happy to see that I was better suited. We've agreed that my last rehab appointment for my knee will be tomorrow. Truthfully, there might have been some merit to me continuing for another week or two, but my finances after four-plus-years on disability just won't sustain it so I'll have to make due on my own. I've made a remarkable recovery already, especially for me.
Anyway, Rocky decided to have another exercise added to my routine. It was one in which they spread marbles on the floor and I was to pick them up with my toes and drop them in a little cup. After 15 minutes, I had not yet completed the task. As I said, my toes are really weak.
Not being able to do such simple things is very frustrating, and an analogy for my whole life. I would like to be normal. Well, maybe not normal because that's pretty boring, but it would be nice to have a life where my body was not constantly failing me.
I am currently struggling with a number of medical issues. My left knee and toe are recovering nicely, but I'm sure that my right knee has a torn meniscus (damaged the week before the left knee surgery) and I had an MRI yesterday so that we can confirm it. My Crohns is flaring and, although it's not escalated the past couple of weeks, it was advancing at an alarming rate up until then. I have not got a lot of faith that the newest medication - something that I have to inject myself with weekly - is going to help, but I have no choice in the matter. I'm giving myself the shots and hoping for the best.
In the meantime, the fainting issue also returned about two weeks ago with a vengence. I don't even necessarily have to be doing anything taxing to bring it on. I can just be standing there talking to somebody and boom! I'm on the floor. But of course, I hate it the most when it happens at Slimmons and it did twice in one week in two successive visits. The second one in which I never progressed past the front desk.
I've seen my Internist for it a week ago - I think/hope he is taking the situation seriously - and also the Cardiologist. Wouldn't you know it, Dr. G- gave me an Event Monitor (again) and sent me on my way until May when I will have a stress test done in his office. And the last faint before seeing him happened two days prior. I've had some vague dizzy spells since then, but in all honestly, I've kept my butt planted in a chair and I never go down when I am sitting. I can feel kind of bad sometimes, but not to the point of a faint.
Then, yesterday, I was at my therapy appointment and discussing my frustration about the whole thing with Dr. M-. Especially that I would be responsible for pushing the button on the monitor when something starts to go wrong. One of the unfortunate things about the big episodes is that I seem to have an intellectual disconnect before I go down. I don't have a lot of time when my body is signaling distress, but I usually think "Oh my God I'm about to faint" and if I acted on it right away, I could probably avoid it by getting to a chair. But that's where things go awry. I don't seem to be able to act on the thought and if somebody asks me if I'm ok (I am often very flushed too), if I'm able to answer at all, I say "yes." Not the right answer but all I can get out. And I'm supposed to be able to push the button?
"That sounds like oxygen deprivation to your brain," Dr. M- said. And we discussed the pressure that I always feel in my neck before such episodes. Carotid Artery Disease was his immediate suggestion. A build up of Plaque in the Carotid Arteries.
I looked the ailment up on the internet this morning. There I found a lot of my symptoms. Transient ischemic attacks. Weakness, numbness, tingling, or paralysis of arm, leg, face, on one side of your body. (I had a neurological work up about this complaint almost two years ago with no identification of the issue.) Blurry eyesight. Dizziness, confusion, fainting, or coma. Sudden severe headache with no known cause.
But then there are the risk factors. Hi levels of low-density lipoprotin cholesterol and triglicerides in the blood. Nope. High Blood Pressure; Diabetes. Used to have both, but they went away years ago along with the weight. Smoking. Obesity. Lack of exercise. No three times over. The only risk factor that I currently have is a family history of coronary artery disease.
Dr. R- scheduled the test for it tomorrow. He told me point blank that he did not think that this is what is wrong with me. And I appreciate his point of view. But I am desperate at this point to have some kind of diagnosis. Anything. Even something as serious as what we will be testing for.
I intend to grill the tech about the results during and after the test. I don't expect to have them fully revealed to me, but I will phrase the question in such a way that he will be hard-pressed not to give me some kind of response. Something along the lines of "I intend to return to exercise class on Saturday as my Cardiologist said I could. Are you seeing anything on your screen that would suggest that this would be a bad idea?"
And then, since Eric & I had a long discussion about it last night, if there is no reason that the tech can give me not to attend, I will return.
I don't know what will happen when I arrive. I know that they all care about me at Slimmons, but how long are they to be expected to put up with my medical issues before they finally pull the plug on me? It's been years going there, with regular issues of health predominating my appearances. I'm always fearful of the day that they will finally tell me that they've had it with me and ask me to leave.
And if I do attend on Saturday, what will happen in class? I'm really scared of that too. If I go, I intend to participate fully. After all, my doctor said I could. And if, by participating I provoke another spell? That might not be a completely bad thing. Because I'm practicing now, telling myself to "Push the button." "Push the button." "Push the button."
Maybe if I rehearse it enough, when I have the issue again, hopefully while I"m wearing the monitor, I'd like to think I'll have the presence of mind to push the button before I go down. Get a recording of what is happening with my heart at that moment.
I'm desperately trying to pick up one of the marbles in my life.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, that conflicted with my Physical Therapy appointment. I complained to the staff. Explained to them - and they already knew it - that I had been more than accomodating to his shifting-like-the-sands-of-the-desert schedule without complaint for months now, and this time I couldn't do it. What were we to do?
Dr. B- only practices at that location on Wednesday afternoon, and when queried, they couldn't guarantee that if I made an appointment with him for the following week, he wouldn't change it again. So that was a no-go. Then they suggested that I see the other Podiatrist who was still practicing in their office (and I assume will be taking a larger role with Dr. B-'s eminent departure to another location). After a brief discussion about finances because I did not want to have to pay for another doctor because the first doctor that worked in their office left me hanging post op, we agreed that they would pick up the charges and we made the appointment. For last Tuesday.
I liked her immediately. Dr. K- did not change my appointment, and in fact was right on time. We briefly discussed my surgery and the aftermath; she was surprised at how painful it still was (I hadn't realized it until she gave it a good squeeze which made me jump and yelp) and how weak the toe was. She showed me an exercise in which I was to pick up a pencil from the floor with my toes for the next two weeks ("at least 10 times a day") and she would see me again then. When she would be prepared to make me orthotics for my exercise shoes so that the bones that were clearly shifting in my foot might be contained and we just might delay the onset of yet another Neuroma. Like I said, I liked her.
I told Rocky at Physical Therapy about her. He has been aware of my ongoing concern over Dr. B- and was happy to see that I was better suited. We've agreed that my last rehab appointment for my knee will be tomorrow. Truthfully, there might have been some merit to me continuing for another week or two, but my finances after four-plus-years on disability just won't sustain it so I'll have to make due on my own. I've made a remarkable recovery already, especially for me.
Anyway, Rocky decided to have another exercise added to my routine. It was one in which they spread marbles on the floor and I was to pick them up with my toes and drop them in a little cup. After 15 minutes, I had not yet completed the task. As I said, my toes are really weak.
Not being able to do such simple things is very frustrating, and an analogy for my whole life. I would like to be normal. Well, maybe not normal because that's pretty boring, but it would be nice to have a life where my body was not constantly failing me.
I am currently struggling with a number of medical issues. My left knee and toe are recovering nicely, but I'm sure that my right knee has a torn meniscus (damaged the week before the left knee surgery) and I had an MRI yesterday so that we can confirm it. My Crohns is flaring and, although it's not escalated the past couple of weeks, it was advancing at an alarming rate up until then. I have not got a lot of faith that the newest medication - something that I have to inject myself with weekly - is going to help, but I have no choice in the matter. I'm giving myself the shots and hoping for the best.
In the meantime, the fainting issue also returned about two weeks ago with a vengence. I don't even necessarily have to be doing anything taxing to bring it on. I can just be standing there talking to somebody and boom! I'm on the floor. But of course, I hate it the most when it happens at Slimmons and it did twice in one week in two successive visits. The second one in which I never progressed past the front desk.
I've seen my Internist for it a week ago - I think/hope he is taking the situation seriously - and also the Cardiologist. Wouldn't you know it, Dr. G- gave me an Event Monitor (again) and sent me on my way until May when I will have a stress test done in his office. And the last faint before seeing him happened two days prior. I've had some vague dizzy spells since then, but in all honestly, I've kept my butt planted in a chair and I never go down when I am sitting. I can feel kind of bad sometimes, but not to the point of a faint.
Then, yesterday, I was at my therapy appointment and discussing my frustration about the whole thing with Dr. M-. Especially that I would be responsible for pushing the button on the monitor when something starts to go wrong. One of the unfortunate things about the big episodes is that I seem to have an intellectual disconnect before I go down. I don't have a lot of time when my body is signaling distress, but I usually think "Oh my God I'm about to faint" and if I acted on it right away, I could probably avoid it by getting to a chair. But that's where things go awry. I don't seem to be able to act on the thought and if somebody asks me if I'm ok (I am often very flushed too), if I'm able to answer at all, I say "yes." Not the right answer but all I can get out. And I'm supposed to be able to push the button?
"That sounds like oxygen deprivation to your brain," Dr. M- said. And we discussed the pressure that I always feel in my neck before such episodes. Carotid Artery Disease was his immediate suggestion. A build up of Plaque in the Carotid Arteries.
I looked the ailment up on the internet this morning. There I found a lot of my symptoms. Transient ischemic attacks. Weakness, numbness, tingling, or paralysis of arm, leg, face, on one side of your body. (I had a neurological work up about this complaint almost two years ago with no identification of the issue.) Blurry eyesight. Dizziness, confusion, fainting, or coma. Sudden severe headache with no known cause.
But then there are the risk factors. Hi levels of low-density lipoprotin cholesterol and triglicerides in the blood. Nope. High Blood Pressure; Diabetes. Used to have both, but they went away years ago along with the weight. Smoking. Obesity. Lack of exercise. No three times over. The only risk factor that I currently have is a family history of coronary artery disease.
Dr. R- scheduled the test for it tomorrow. He told me point blank that he did not think that this is what is wrong with me. And I appreciate his point of view. But I am desperate at this point to have some kind of diagnosis. Anything. Even something as serious as what we will be testing for.
I intend to grill the tech about the results during and after the test. I don't expect to have them fully revealed to me, but I will phrase the question in such a way that he will be hard-pressed not to give me some kind of response. Something along the lines of "I intend to return to exercise class on Saturday as my Cardiologist said I could. Are you seeing anything on your screen that would suggest that this would be a bad idea?"
And then, since Eric & I had a long discussion about it last night, if there is no reason that the tech can give me not to attend, I will return.
I don't know what will happen when I arrive. I know that they all care about me at Slimmons, but how long are they to be expected to put up with my medical issues before they finally pull the plug on me? It's been years going there, with regular issues of health predominating my appearances. I'm always fearful of the day that they will finally tell me that they've had it with me and ask me to leave.
And if I do attend on Saturday, what will happen in class? I'm really scared of that too. If I go, I intend to participate fully. After all, my doctor said I could. And if, by participating I provoke another spell? That might not be a completely bad thing. Because I'm practicing now, telling myself to "Push the button." "Push the button." "Push the button."
Maybe if I rehearse it enough, when I have the issue again, hopefully while I"m wearing the monitor, I'd like to think I'll have the presence of mind to push the button before I go down. Get a recording of what is happening with my heart at that moment.
I'm desperately trying to pick up one of the marbles in my life.
Body Worlds
Last Sunday, Eric & I decided to go to the California Science Center in downtown Los Angeles to see the Body Worlds exhibit. For the uninitiated, they display real bodies, and parts thereof, so that the public can learn how they work.
It was a fascinating exhibit. The lines were lengthy, but because of my ongoing intermitant health issues, we were able to bypass them and get right in. It was very crowded; the people were polite and interested. And many of the exhibits were - ahem - life sized.
The displays were startling. They have a process by which they plasticize the parts - and the whole - so that they're perfectly preserved. The Body Worlds link that I've provided has a separate embeded link within it that will explain the process if you are interested. They had whole skeletons with the muscles, tendons, or "whatever" attached. Glass eyes would look upon us as we would stare at them. But the weirdest part was the poses that the bodies were in. Olympic poses. Like they were playing the Olympic games. I'm serious. A Javelin Thrower, a pair of Ice Skaters... and many others.
Eric was a little bit nervous about the exhibit in advance. "I heard that most of the bodies are Chinese." he muttered. But I was not concerned. Nor was I "grossed out". He couldn't claim the same, however. He confided that it made him a bit nauseous, and that he was likely to have nightmares.
I grew up in a physician's home. My father would often initiate blood-and-guts conversation at the dinner table, and it was not unusual that we would have blood draws from various patients with chemicals added percolating in our refrigerator at home next to the food. In fact, I had a conversation with my sister when I was just entering my 40s. I was startled because I had just realized that when people asked me not to discuss certain topics related to the body at the dinner table "because we're eating," that they actually MEANT it. She had not come to the same conclusion yet.
So I was not disturbed at the museum. Rather, I was impressed by the many displays and could hardly get my fill. I was sorry that I was tired towards the end... they were just getting to the part where they were showing the effects of a fatty and poor diet. There was a cross-section, the long way, of a human where you could see at least 3" of fat between the organs/skeleton and the skin, all the way around. There were veins and arteries coated in plaque. I, of course, have a special interest in that given where I come from. But fatigue set in and rather than examining this part in depth, we decided to head on home.
I started asking questions about the bodies later. Did they really all originate in China? And if they did, is there an ethical dilema? Although I was assured by friends that they didn't, I was not reassured.
The bigger question I had, though, who were these people in life. They were posed in olympian stances... were displayed as fit and true. In life, were these people athletes? Were they young? Or were they old and then "lifted" and the poses they are in were the ultimate joke? How, exactly, did these people die?
When you donate your body to science, you take a chance on what happens to it. But if the people knew of their end, would they approve?
I strongly agree, in principle, to the exhibit. Not only do I recommend going to it if you're lucky enough to have one come to your geographical area, but I plan to take Vennie to it when she comes to California later this month.
But I'm still left with the disquieting feeling that everything is not quite right about the origins of the displays. I guess that means that I am not quite as calloused as I formerly thought.
It was a fascinating exhibit. The lines were lengthy, but because of my ongoing intermitant health issues, we were able to bypass them and get right in. It was very crowded; the people were polite and interested. And many of the exhibits were - ahem - life sized.
The displays were startling. They have a process by which they plasticize the parts - and the whole - so that they're perfectly preserved. The Body Worlds link that I've provided has a separate embeded link within it that will explain the process if you are interested. They had whole skeletons with the muscles, tendons, or "whatever" attached. Glass eyes would look upon us as we would stare at them. But the weirdest part was the poses that the bodies were in. Olympic poses. Like they were playing the Olympic games. I'm serious. A Javelin Thrower, a pair of Ice Skaters... and many others.
Eric was a little bit nervous about the exhibit in advance. "I heard that most of the bodies are Chinese." he muttered. But I was not concerned. Nor was I "grossed out". He couldn't claim the same, however. He confided that it made him a bit nauseous, and that he was likely to have nightmares.
I grew up in a physician's home. My father would often initiate blood-and-guts conversation at the dinner table, and it was not unusual that we would have blood draws from various patients with chemicals added percolating in our refrigerator at home next to the food. In fact, I had a conversation with my sister when I was just entering my 40s. I was startled because I had just realized that when people asked me not to discuss certain topics related to the body at the dinner table "because we're eating," that they actually MEANT it. She had not come to the same conclusion yet.
So I was not disturbed at the museum. Rather, I was impressed by the many displays and could hardly get my fill. I was sorry that I was tired towards the end... they were just getting to the part where they were showing the effects of a fatty and poor diet. There was a cross-section, the long way, of a human where you could see at least 3" of fat between the organs/skeleton and the skin, all the way around. There were veins and arteries coated in plaque. I, of course, have a special interest in that given where I come from. But fatigue set in and rather than examining this part in depth, we decided to head on home.
I started asking questions about the bodies later. Did they really all originate in China? And if they did, is there an ethical dilema? Although I was assured by friends that they didn't, I was not reassured.
The bigger question I had, though, who were these people in life. They were posed in olympian stances... were displayed as fit and true. In life, were these people athletes? Were they young? Or were they old and then "lifted" and the poses they are in were the ultimate joke? How, exactly, did these people die?
When you donate your body to science, you take a chance on what happens to it. But if the people knew of their end, would they approve?
I strongly agree, in principle, to the exhibit. Not only do I recommend going to it if you're lucky enough to have one come to your geographical area, but I plan to take Vennie to it when she comes to California later this month.
But I'm still left with the disquieting feeling that everything is not quite right about the origins of the displays. I guess that means that I am not quite as calloused as I formerly thought.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Mount Fuji - Part 2
The saga of the brojen Fuji Finepix continues.
I made the call to Fuji Repair today and got a woman named "Christine" from the repair department. I was very calm and collected, and told her that there must be some kind of mistake. The camera was not dented when I sent it to them. She asked me to hold while she pulled the camera.
When she returned to the phone, she calmly told me that there was a very extensive dent on the bottom "by the port." Since I know in my heart of hearts that the camera was not dropped or dented in any way when I sent it to them, I asked her if she had any idea how it happened. "It couldn't have happened in shipping" she said. "If it had, then there would have been a report."
I calmly explained to her that if it hadn't happened in shipping, then somebody on her side must have dropped the camera. She wouldn't budge on her postion, but when I explained to her that the camera had only been back with me for a couple of weeks after the last repair, she said that if I had the previous repair center fax a copy of the repair report along to her, she would take it - with their notes of any damage on it - to her supervisor. Since there was no damage, I had no problem with that.
I called the last repair center:
Advance Camera Repair
7441 Garden Grove Blvd.
Suite J
Garden Grove CA 92841
Phone: 714-799-6175
Fax: 714-799-6145
and spoke to Harold. He was lovely and helpful, pulling the paperwork and noting that there were no notes of significant damage to the camera on it. He is having "Lisa," his secretary, fax a copy of the report on to Christine later this afternoon.
Meanwhile, I looked up Fuji Repair on the internet. There are a whole host of complaint reviews about them telling the exact same story. New cameras, older cameras, cameras that never worked right from being taken out of the box new. All of the cameras were sent to them under warranty for repair; all of the owners who swore that there was no impact, received a bill exactly like mine, requesting $80 to repair the camera due to "impact damage."
So the saga continues. Will they fix my camera? Will I ever be able to post real pictures to my blog again? Will Fuji do the right thing?
Or will I be forced to buy a new camera because Fuji does not honor their warranty agreement?
Only time will tell.
I made the call to Fuji Repair today and got a woman named "Christine" from the repair department. I was very calm and collected, and told her that there must be some kind of mistake. The camera was not dented when I sent it to them. She asked me to hold while she pulled the camera.
When she returned to the phone, she calmly told me that there was a very extensive dent on the bottom "by the port." Since I know in my heart of hearts that the camera was not dropped or dented in any way when I sent it to them, I asked her if she had any idea how it happened. "It couldn't have happened in shipping" she said. "If it had, then there would have been a report."
I calmly explained to her that if it hadn't happened in shipping, then somebody on her side must have dropped the camera. She wouldn't budge on her postion, but when I explained to her that the camera had only been back with me for a couple of weeks after the last repair, she said that if I had the previous repair center fax a copy of the repair report along to her, she would take it - with their notes of any damage on it - to her supervisor. Since there was no damage, I had no problem with that.
I called the last repair center:
Advance Camera Repair
7441 Garden Grove Blvd.
Suite J
Garden Grove CA 92841
Phone: 714-799-6175
Fax: 714-799-6145
and spoke to Harold. He was lovely and helpful, pulling the paperwork and noting that there were no notes of significant damage to the camera on it. He is having "Lisa," his secretary, fax a copy of the report on to Christine later this afternoon.
Meanwhile, I looked up Fuji Repair on the internet. There are a whole host of complaint reviews about them telling the exact same story. New cameras, older cameras, cameras that never worked right from being taken out of the box new. All of the cameras were sent to them under warranty for repair; all of the owners who swore that there was no impact, received a bill exactly like mine, requesting $80 to repair the camera due to "impact damage."
So the saga continues. Will they fix my camera? Will I ever be able to post real pictures to my blog again? Will Fuji do the right thing?
Or will I be forced to buy a new camera because Fuji does not honor their warranty agreement?
Only time will tell.
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