Writing up the Leftie

Although yesterday morning I started out with a normal temperature, it didn't take long for it to climb to 102.7 degrees. Indeed, that seems to be a daily process over the last six weeks. I've talked to doctors, I've visited doctors, I've complained - in person and via e-mail - at doctors, but nobody seems willing or able to give me a diagnosis at present.

But in addition to the persistent fever, I hit a point of dehydration in the afternoon that could no longer be ignored. Frankly, I knew I was approaching it for several days, but hoped it would go away. (I do that every time... stupid! as I hit myself upside the head.) Or that I could hold out until next week when I could make arrangements with Dr. V- for rehydration in Cedars Sinai's Procedure room rather than the alternative visit to ER. But I realized that it was not going to wait. I was experiencing the traditional short circuit of the brain along with other symptoms, and off I went.

For a Saturday night, the ER was not bad. My wait to be seen was only a little over an hour, and I actually got an honest-to-gawd room. A conference with the ER doc, and I was quickly hooked up to the first of two bags of fluid which I would be given.

I slept pretty-much through the first bag and the first half of the 2nd bag. Then, as is typical when I am receiving much-needed fluids, I suddenly woke up, brain engaged. Took a good look around the room. And noticed this:

Be Sure You Have
The Five Rights (of patient care)

Patient
Time
Route
Dose
Drug

Well, it was a good idea. Really it was. But what was wrong with this picture is that the five rights are written on a left hand!

When 'Omar' came in to check on me, he knew immediately that I was improving becuase I pointed out the issue to him. He was quite amused, even as I protested that surely I wasn't the first to have noticed. (I have a feeling that maybe I was, or at least the first to mention it.) He managed to twist his right hand around against the picture in a contorted manner with a big grin on his face to prove that they had the hand correct, but I then pointed out to him that it was clearly a handprint on the page and no, it was a left hand for sure.

Well, I asked and received permission to take a picture of that sign and make fun of it. And so I did. But on the trip home from the hospital, I realized one fact that was bigger than the issue of righty or lefty.

Cedars Sinai is a Jewish Hospital. In keeping with the tradition, the five rights had been written correctly. They read from right to left. Even as they used the wrong hand to illustrate their point, the got the bigger picture right.

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And now, the conclusion of the Brownie Dilema.

Out of four responses, I received two actionable requests for where those brownies should go. Janel wanted them to go to Russell's Mom who is well deserving indeed.

Adele wanted me to send them to Diane and Grace who recently lost their home to the fires in Northern Los Angeles. Also very deserving.

Well, because I was in the hospital last night instead of attending the party that I was supposed to go to, the original brownies are still in the back of Eric's car. And so there is not even a choice to be made.

I will send the new box out to Russell's Mom as soon as I get shipping information from Janel. I will send the original box (only a few days old) on to Diane and Grace as soon as I find out from Adele where their temporary living location is at.

And I will do my best to keep my commitment to Claudia to eat mostly healthy this trying month of December. At this point, the only real party I was scheduled to attend has passed, and there's only Christmas Day (and maybe New Year's Eve) to worry about. Since I intend to make a lasagna for Christmas in advance and freeze it in deference to the Cimzia Injections that I will be getting on December 24, Christmas should not be a problem. (I'll ask Eric's family to provide a salad, and maybe get Mom to do dessert.) Nothing is yet planned for New Years, so I'll just see how it goes.

Yes, I gained weight as a result of the fluids received yesterday. And also the Hershey Bar they brought me when I complained that I had been there for hours and hours and was getting hungry. Sorry Claudia. It was all they had to offer me in ER and I was really REALLY hungry. It was 310 calories in all. And when did a Hershey Bar turn into such positively awful chocolate? O.M.G! I will go hungry the next time rather than accept it.

Brownies, Resolved

When I last left you, I was dying. There were brownies in the living room with my name stamped on each and every one of them. Oy. I wanted to eat those brownies, I knew that I wanted to eat those brownies, and I even almost did.

I received quite a bit of feedback (pun intended) on this subject; it was interesting not only for the varying opinions, but also who said what given each person's background and philosophy as I know it. Opinions ranged from freezing them or putting them in places I wouldn't go to (like that exists - lol!) to eating one and giving the rest away or giving them all away immediately, to dumping them in the garbage. In the end, though, I ended up going a different route.

I am still dealing with significant illness, some of it from my initial disease, and just as much because I am immune suppressed. I have been running fevers - high fevers - almost daily now, with a bunch of diffuse symptoms that seem to mostly go away when I take Tylenol. (The fever goes away too... Tylenol is magic!) The day after I did my post, I was suffering from one of those fevers, and rather than dealing with it right away, I forgot that there was Tylenol on my bedstand and put up with the symptoms for hours and hours. Sometimes I just forget in all of my misery. Without fail, I prefer crying to eating during these times, and the brownies were out of my mind.

I was so sick and upset that Eric volunteered to come over. He did, reminded me that I had Tylenol, and then proceeded to entertain himself on my computer while waiting for my attitude to improve. Part of his self-entertainment system includes e-bay, but he always stops by my blog.

Even when I am saying things that are not meant to be funny, he seems to get a chuckle out of them. He was quietly laughing when I asked him "What?! What's so funny?" Apparently my frank admission that I had other official motives for ordering those brownies, but what I really wanted was to eat them tickled his funny bone. Then he turned to me and said "You know, brownies just don't do much for me at all. I can put them in the trunk of my car until Saturday when we go to that party where you intended to use them as a hostess gift."

My internal reaction was ambivilent. Yippee! They will be out of my house, and the dilema will be solved. Oy! They will be out of my house and the option of eating them will be removed.

I countered by asking him if it was really fair to expose them to him for that amount of time. Eric struggles with weight as I do. But he assured me that if they were potato chips, it would be one matter, but brownies were nothing that he was interested in. 'Come on!" he said. "It takes care of all your problems at once, and I'm going to drive us to the party on Saturday anyway." And so I reluctantly agreed.

When he left a couple of hours later, my heart was in my throat. I was hoping that he might forget. After all, once the brownies were removed from the scene, the option of eating them was also removed. But No. He remembered. He stopped by my coffee table in the living room (the one where I could not fail but to see them whenever I went into the kitchen, walked down my hall, used the guest bathroom, walked in and out of the condo), packed them into their shipping carton again, and tucked them under his arm. I feigned gratitude and happiness. "Thank goodness that you're taking them out of here." I whispered with love in my eyes and a giant ice cube encasing my heart.

As he closed the front door, exited my patio (it was cold that day so I didn't go to the gate to kiss him goodbye), I was thinking "Damn you! Damn you to hell!" Because I knew that the brownies were gone and I was going to have no choice now but to use them for the altruistic purpose that I originally purported to want them for.

Of course, since 48 hours have passed, now I am extremely grateful to him. I did not need those extra calories; I did not need the diabetic response that I would certainly have had in response to eating them. I did need a hostess gift for Saturday. And my cravings for them are 100% gone. But I have another issue.

When sent the first box of brownies, I was also awarded enough points to receive a second box. Sherrie stipulated that they were for me to send to a friend, not to bring into my own home. (I'm sure that has to do with advertising for her Send Out Cardswebsite, which is a dandy one indeed!) OF course I"m pretty sure that if I ordered them for my home with some kind of story that I'm going to give them away, she would be fine with that, but if I order them for here, I will be setting myself up to want to eat them again, and damn! It was hard enough to resist them the first time. Trust me, they were amazing. I can still smell them in the window of my mind. No way would I even admit their arrival, let alone their demise, the second time around.

So that brings me to you. Would anybody like a box of brownies delivered to their front door? Or their office? Or to a friend? Anywhere you would like them to go, I can have them sent.

If so, please leave your comment after this post. Like contests in other blogs before this one, if there is more than one response, I will award them (on Sunday) via random number generator. I will place my order to be shipped directly to wherever you would like them received. (A friend? An enemy?) Of course that means that I have to be able to reach you via e-mail or you need to watch this blog enough to respond if announce you as the winner.

If nobody wants the brownies, I will then order them for Mom. But frankly, her home is already a cornicopia for sweet stuff, so if they can go elsewhere, it's better.

I think that the ordering house stipulates continental US only, so please nothing out of the lower 48.

Thank you. Looking forward to seeing who responds.

The Brownie Dilema

In November, I signed up for Nablopomo, aka National Blog Posting Month, a challenge where I was expected to post each and every day in the month of November. Thirty posts in thirty days, weekends included. I don't know why I signed up, except to see if I could do it. After all, this year has not been what I would have wanted for reasons of health, and to complete any challenge set forth would be a good thing.

I was successful, learning a little more about my blog service, encouraging my regular readers to check in a little more frequently, and even improving my writing skills just a little. It was a good month.

When I signed up for Nablopomo, I looked at one of the rewards of the challenge with a slight sense of disbelief. They offered prizes for some of us who were successful in their endeavours. Individuals and small businesses donated, and there were around 50 in all. Books, jewelry, soaps... the offerings ran the gambit. But I did not relate; after all, except for a very brief winning streak in the early 90s, I have rarely-to-never brought home a prize. And I can also say in all honesty that I took on the challenge simply to see if it could be done. It could.

At the end of the month, I quickly gave the prize page of the Nablopomo web site another quick perusal, more out of curiosity than anything else. It seemed that somewhere around 90% of the people who signed up were successful in posting. The prizes would be doled out via a random number generator. You can accept the prize awarded to you or turn it down, but you could not convert it into another prize. OK then.

So I considered briefly taking on the challenge once again in December, but decided that my time this month was too precious and I didn't want to make the commitment. So I left Nablopomo behind me, figuring I'd think about it again for January. Then, lo and behold, an e-mail came to my in box. It seems that I was lucky prize winner # 37! Home made brownies, generously donated by Sherrie at Send Out Cards.com. Oy!

Well, anyone who has lost a great deal of weight knows that the struggle is really intense, and it never ends. I thought about turning the prize down. I knew that it would be a bad thing to have sweets delivered to my home. Yet I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'd say that it was because it was MY prize, and indeed, that's one of the things I told myself when I answered the e-mail to set the delivery up. But that is a lie. Brownies were being put into my line of sight and I know that deep down, my motivation was that I wanted to eat them.

The e-mail interaction with Sherrie was very pleasant, the transaction at Send Out Cards was as easy as pie, and last night, the brownies were delivered to my doorstep by UPS. Oy.



Now, I had discussed those brownies with Eric before they arrived. "What was I thinking?" I asked him! "Am I an idiot, bringing them into my home?" And I admit that reading Claudia's Blog and seeing that she's written over several days now how she's honoring our conversation of last week and eating healthy in December (damn that conversation!) is making the situation so much harder. I told Eric that I can't eat the stupid things. That we were going to attend a holiday party this weekend and they would make the perfect hostess gift, and it would be a great way for me to divest myself of the contraband.

Of course, when the brownies showed up, I had to open the box. Inside was not what I imagined. I don't know what I was thinking, but I assumed that they would be loose brownies like those that I make, cut up, and put on a plate for pot lucks that I've gone to in the past. What I found were four giant brownies, individually wrapped, and set side-by-side on their sides. The smell, even through the wrappings, was delicious.



To torture myself more, I took one of the brownies out of the gift box. Lovingly raised it to my nose and took a long whiff. Oy. Did it smell amazing.



And then I turned it over to review the nutrition information. 440 calories for one. 200 calories of which came from fat.



My mind immediately went to work. "Well," I thought. "I can cut each of them into quarters, then I'd only be getting 105 calories at a time. But who am I kidding? I'm not going to eat 1/4 of the brownie and then leave the rest for another day! And even if I did, the bottom line is that the total calories for the box (1760) is the total calories for the box, and whether I ate them in one sitting or spread out over time, it would still amount to weight gained.

I'm still struggling with the weight that I allowed myself to gain last holiday season. I swear that if I had known what was in store for me, I would never have eaten what I did that lead to the gain. But of course, that would have meant that I am psychic, and I"m just not going there. The bottom line is that I am eight pounds over what I was at the beginning of last holiday season right now, seven of which could be accounted for on January 1. And I don't seem to have the capacity to lose them.

So here's the quandary. Do I try to hold onto these brownies until this Saturday when I will pawn them off onto somebody else? Do I just eat them now? After all, last Saturday was my birthday and I didn't go to Sprinkles in Beverly Hills to celebrate as I had planned for over a month prior. Around the same calorie commitment, I would think. Do I put them into the garbage dumpsters right this very minute and waste not only the brownies, but the kindness and shipping dollars of Sherrie? I don't know!

What I do know is that this has been a devastating year. I've been terribly sick, which has prevented me from doing very much physical activity. I've been terrified at gaining weight, and while things are slightly better here at the end of 2008, the key word is slightly. I'm not up to a whole lot.

Additionally, I've watched friends, both near-and-dear to me and those not so close, gain a tremendous amount of the weight that they've lost in the past over the course of the last 12 months. 30 pounds, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80... the general theme of all of them is that "it doesn't matter" or "I'm still a good person" or "I don't know why I"m gaining since I don't eat that much." Of the three statements, the second is universally true. The others? Bullshit. It DOES matter. And even if we may be in denial, deep down we know why we are gaining that much weight. Because we're bringing food into our lives like the brownies and we don't let them go.

I'm scared. I don't know what I'm going to do.

My inclination is to go with the 'give-them-as-a-hostess-gift' plan and if I can be successful at keeping them through Saturday, I know I can give them away. But there's the quandary. Can I not eat them for that long?

But the perpetual question that is already answered is also on the table. Can I live with myself if I gain over 200 pounds back? Can I, knowing what I know now about both myself and how the world works, deal with it? The answer is unequivocally NO!

I wonder how you-all would handle this?
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I could survive for 28 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor

Created by Bunk Beds.net

On a different subject, I could survive for 28 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor. How long could you survive?