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Weight: 192.0 lbs.
Yikes! I got up later than I should have this morning, and now have little time to blog. I have a long day scheduled at work, as it is “end of the month” Friday when all the stats and what-not are due.
Unfortunately, this will put a crimp in my garage saling! But alas, one must make money to have for such things down the line.
I woke up feeling sad and upset and off balance this morning, as I dreamt worrisome and upsetting things about Callie right up until I woke. There is no worse feeling than that of seeing someone you love suffer, and needing you, and feeling impotent to help or heal. This is the kind of stuff I dreamt.
I am actually glad to get out of the house and off to somewhere where maybe what I do does matter, and focus on things I am good at. I think that this will be especially therapeutic for me today.
Last night Janet was over until late, and we enjoyed a nice dinner and some tv and talk together. This was nice, but I think talk of Callie may have stirred the pot for me, and I went to bed a little bluer than I have been. Janet almost “made me” go get ice cream with her as she was craving it and hungry, but fortunately she relented, as we all know that I likely wouldn’t have had the will to say no to a nice dish or cone at this point in things. I am still way weaker willed than I wish to be, although find that by simply keeping “bad” foods out of reach, this minimizes the damage some. I am just not good enough at resisting things that are within my vicinity or awareness, and need to not have them at home or work or anywhere in my community!
I do hope to bump up my inner resolve so that ultimately this is less of a problem as it used to be.
But, for now, keeping busy with things like work and fruitful endeavors, is where I am at.
And given this, I’d better run!
Weight: 192.3 lbs.
After work yesterday, Tom and I ran several errands, including a trip to the grocery store where we bought our pre-cooked dinners of roasted chicken.
Before I settled in to eat, I dressed for an evening in, and weighed myself. I was 191.5 before dinner. I felt that this might be shooting distance to get back near 190, where I then could focus on getting lower than ever and into my 180’s finally.
I ate some of the chicken and some spring mix cooked veggies that come in a bag. I drank several glasses of no-calorie “kool-aid” later, and went to bed pretty early because I have a long day today.
And weigh 192.3 this morning.
I was thinking that I might be on my way back down, given that I thought that I did well diet wise, and ate only moderately. Before dinner, I had my usual egg/cheese breakfast, and desk cashews and 2 cheese sticks and a pear for snacks at work.
Why did I go up? I seriously get confused about such things at times, as I seem to go up when I think I should go down, and vice versa. Almost as if there is no rhyme or reason…or I am very sensitive to sodium and fluid. But if so, wouldn’t a few good pees get me back down? Or maybe they are.
I know that I must be diligent and can’t hang my hat in any direction on just one days worth of weigh-ins, but I do admit that it is puzzling and it would help if I understood what worked best so I could aim better in that direction.
Although I am sure that many of you are screaming the answer to this right now…something about sticking to it, exercise, moderation and low carb. you say. Hmmm….
What a novel concept!!!
Weight: 192.1 lbs.
I suddenly feel as if I can think for the first time in a while. I believe that with the insidious stress of Callie’s lingering health problems and ultimate death combined with impending blood work and other summer stressors, that I have been in dread and auto pilot mode for a long time. Yesterday I was surprised how “clean” I felt, meaning that I didn’t have to think about too much more than whatever tasks I had at hand both at home and at work, and was more focused and less anxious as a result.
I have been thinking more about my goals and bariatric journey, becasue I can, and can begin to face the fact that I haven’t lost weight in ages, and that the 190’s is likely my end weight if I don’t do things differently. Or, worse yet, I feel at risk to gain back at least some of what I have lost. Although I feel ok at my current weight and can easily rest on past accomplishments, I would be selling myself short, and never experience what a lesser weight may feel and look like.
Admittedly I am often torn between this and immediate gratification in the form of eating more of what I like now, and have still not resolved this one. But, as the fog clears, I can at least say that a part of me wants and can be motivated towards, continued weight loss and fitness. And that if I can push to activate this aspect of myself, there is hope that I can acheive more goals. Such as reaching the low 80’s where I was, last I remember dieting back in the 1990’s. For starters, anyway. I can’t even begin to think in terms much lower than this yet, as even a loss of 10 more lbs. at this rate, will likely take extraordinary will and work on my part. In case you haven’t noticed, it has taken me like 6 months to drop the last 10 lbs.
But, the point is that I must do thigs differently and harder and better than before if I really hope to get and stay on better track. Resuming my old exercise routine would be a start - and I haven’t even gotten back into this yet.
I haven’t forgotten any of this, the lessons learned here through others comments, all my research and teachings, and basic concepts of bariatric success.
I just need to activate them, is all…. And get started once more on a path for success.
Which sounds so simple, doesn’t it?!
Weight: 191.4 lbs.
I never thought that I’d say it, but I am glad that it is Tuesday! I am so glad that my bloodwork is over that I could puke!
So yesterday we left out early, with a hot compress on my arm shaped like a kitty cat (one of those microwaveable cat shaped neck snugglies), a bottle of flavored water, my contraband (valium) and my 2 scripts. I wasn’t sure when to take the valium so that it would peak at just the right time, but decided to take it enroute and keep my fingers crossed.
We arrived at a nearly empty Quest waiting room - a rarity for an early blood draw. But, there was no one tending the window either, despite our best efforts to announce our arrival and ensure that they knew that it was ME. Not that I am a narcissist who must have immediate attention or anything, but typically when Tom scopes a place out for me beforehand, one of the criteria is that the staff can be flexible to the best of their ability, and take me either before or after my set time, according to how groggy the pills are making me. Plus, I like to greet and remind them about my special “issues” beforehand.
But, there was no one to be found, and I was starting to get as woozy as a herion addict. I learned that 2 valium is absolutely enough after all, possibly as I have lost weight, or as I absorb things differently now. (Just like a small glass of wine can floor me!)
Anyway, I was finally called back cold cocked, and the lady was not only as unfriendly and businesslike as could be, but was dismissive, aloof, and if I asked things, answered me as briefly as could be humanly possible. For instance, in an attempt to connect and engender some human emotion and awareness from her, I asked: “Do you deal with people with needle phobias here?” Her answer: “No”.
Not really what would serve to inspire and reassure me.
So, I did what any self respecting phobic who was feeling that much more vulnerable and anxious would do. (No, not leave, although I did think about it!)
I started crying in my draw chair. Then I asked quietly if I could go get my husband. For which her answer was a shrug, and an “I don’t care.”
Now usually I ask Tom to stay OUT, as he both is pummeled by me and this is unfair to him, and because in some wierd way he actually can make me feel MORE nervous.
But, this time I buried my head in his shirt while he rubbed my back and talked to me (seeing as I couldn’t get bland, rude draw lady to say a word or give a flying s***).
It turns out that another lady I was hardly aware of came in and actually was the one who did the draw, while apathy woman busied herself labeling tubes and such. I guess. Because I was busy sobbing quietly into Tom’s shirt, and missed the whole thing.
But, the punch line, is that I was stuck in the crook of my right arm once, they successfully drew several vials and my vein didn’t shut off or roll away as it often does, and with Tom’s rallies and cheers, I made it through. With just ONE hole and in about 10 minutes! A new record, I think!
Then when I tried to compliment and thank bland woman (the other one had already scooted and I was still unaware that she had anything to do with it), she was equally as yucky accepting compliments as she was in providing a supportive environment.
But, I guess I could have had Attila the Hun do me if it meant this degree of efficiency and success…and the moral of the story is that I’ll take competent over warm and fuzzy, if given the choice, from now on.
Besides, warm and fuzzy is what Tom is for!
And, in other good news, I lost back the pre-draw fluid bloat, and I can now think and see clearly into the new week to strengthen my resolve and do better, I hope. Callie is no longer suffering before us and we are starting to heal from losing her, my period and bloodwork are over, school and therefore Tom are about to resume, and hopefully, no more extraordinary events or stressors are on the horizon at the moment.
And for all this, I breathe a huge sigh of relief and take a better step forward for health and integrity sake.
And the next chapter is that of getting back the results…. But, no matter what, this should be easier than getting them out of me!
Weight:193.9
One of these days, I just know that this is what I am going to yell when the poor phlebotomist assigned to me comes at me for the draw. Perhaps today will be the day. I am apprehensive as I write this, as I am due there in just an hour or so, and I am about to take my few measly valium in hopes of some sedation, but have little expectation that they will do much to quell my growing anxiety. You’d think I was going off to war or something.
God, how I wish it not only was over already, but that I could feel the profound relief of it having gone successfully so I won’t have to do this again for a while. I am terrified that they will fail, and like so many times before, I will leave devastated, miserable, horrified and full of holes. With the awareness that I will have to try it all again because I still need my blood drawn.
With all of modern technology today, you’d think that they would have either invented something to address phobias more successfully, or a way to install a faucet or something onto one’s body so that you could just tap into it to spill out however much blood was needed. Wouldn’t that be grand?! Although I guess the closest thing to this would probably be the in-dwelling catheter thingy I did have put in for surgery, and that they were able to draw out of for the weeks following it before it was removed. Grossly and painfully, I might add. Not quite a solution, I suppose.
I do plan to do all of the things I can to make my veins more prominent, and have been drinking since early yesterday to the degree that I had to pee all night and have gained even more weight. On the other hand, we went metal detecting in like 100 degree heat yesterday, so you would think that I sweat as much off as I consumed. But if this is so, than I am even more screwed weight wise than I have been, and my veins risk not being nearly plumped up enough to produce.
I did have high hopes though that the physical nature of detecting would counteract the calories I have been consuming. Even though all we found was one quarter and an old bottle.I did look the green bottle up on line last night though, and see that it is from 1865, and sold for $140 at a bottle auction recently! Too bad that mine is broken at the top. And too bad that the miles of territory I walked, the holes I dug and the heat I endured didn’t otherwise rev my metabolism or whip me into an exercising frenzy.
But, I am hoping that the act of walking around with a 10 lb. machine attached to my right arm for hours on end may also have helped to “loosen up” my arm veins, giving me that much more of an edge today.
And if this works, I can advertise even more virtues of metal detecting, beyond the “fun and profit” it proposes to offer! Hey, compared with things like drinking another 9 gallons of fluids or tying off my arms, this would be the most fun and user friendly method of preparing for the task ahead.
Now, lets see if any of this works!
Weight: 192.8 lbs.
Soon, Janet and Debbie and Pete are due over for a brunch that I partly make, and Debbie partly brings. We are having eggs and sausage and ham and home fries and bagels and spreads. It all would sound better if I weren’t still gaining and fat and struggling and HUNGRY all the time. And very bad at resisting temptation still.
Afterwards Tom and I are joining up with friends Kathy and Joe, and metal detecting together on my supervisor’s old farm. Hopefully this will burn a few calories off, especially as it is promising to be very warm today, and we will likely sweat buckets as detecting (digging) can be hard work.
On the other hand, I do know that this is not enough to constitute exercise or get me back on track. I am entertaining the idea of doing the pouch test again, after my dreaded bloodwork tomorrow or perhaps starting on Tuesday. If I can muster the will and the stamina and the chutpah to challenge myself in such a way.
But, I do know that something must be done…reworded, I MUST DO SOMETHING. Soon. Now? Sometime. Tomorrow?!
Some day on a Sunday.
Sigh.
Weight: 192.6 lbs.
I weighed myself before bed last night, and weighed one ounce LESS than what I do this morning! How is this possible?
We never did go to the Compeer picnic last night, sparing me the free for all with hot dogs, hamburgers, endless desserts and the like. Although this was a good thing (although this is not why we didn’t go!), we lazied around at home instead, and I ate about 20 shrimp with cocktail sauce for dinner. This was all - but I wonder if the sodium in the shrimp did me in? Or, the glass of wine I had a few hours later. Or the snack foods (chex mix, which I do know is a no no for carb sensitive me!) we had while out detecting earlier in the day.
It turns out that I didn’t (need to) go to work after all, so Tom and I made the whole day up as we went along, including the evening as this turned out to be free too when his Compeer friend decided to bag on him/us at the last minute. So, we headed to the park to detect, got in a little exerciwe and sunshine, found a few coins, and ate salty, carby snacks.
I clearly have not learned or at least am not practicing good control or bariatric sense. I also clearly am not losing at all, and am at risk of regaining. I more clearly have still not embraced the crisp sense of mission and purpose that those like Debra (who used to comment here but probably ultimately ran screaming in the other direction out of futility over trying to deal with the likes of me!). I continue to live as if the concept of cause and effect did not exist, and in a way that is more about what I desire in the short term, than what I need to do for the rest of my life and my health. I clearly either don’t get this, or keep succumbing to underlying forces, beliefs and temptations that serve to sabotage and undermine. And justify.
So while I am posting about things like Callie’s passing, our hobbies, my job and other aspects of everyday life, however true and meaningful, I am not posting about or putting emphasis on my “failures” as a bariatric patient. I am quietly going nowhere, resigned to this to some degree, and silently at greater risk for complete failure than I probably know or care to admit.
And truly, I am still not even sure what to say or do about this despite all the best information at my disposal, a somewhat intelligent brain, support here and at obesityhelp.com, and opportunity like everyone else.
Instead, I continue epitomizing the concept of “insanity” as “doing the same things over and over again yet expecting different results.”
And it is excrutiatingly obvious that this remains where I am stuck and why I still weigh so much over my goal and eat crap at times and don’t really have a plan or live consistently by solemn standards.
Excrutiatingly obvious, yet as unclear and murky and confusing as can be.
Weight: 192.4 lbs.
I seem to be stuck at a new higher weight, and can’t even get back down to where I was at my lowest. Although admittedly I am not trying that hard where I was say that I am a bariatric wonder or anything. But, I am trying to eat sensibly, cut back where I can, and limit carbs. Yesterday I also ensured that I had more frequent snacks at work, including a cheese stick, a protein bar, and later a pear from our friends pear tree. I don’t think that my blood sugar dropped as low as it had the day before, although it is hard to tell at times when I am perpetually tired and stressed anyway.
I remain a little mopey, but am plugging away at finding things I enjoy to distract and entertain me. I am hoping for news soon about the possiblility of metal detecting some old farm land, and think if allowed, this could be just what the doctor ordered. It would allow us a nice, natural day outdoors with the prospect of buried treasure and the thrill of the hunt.
I AM glad today to have wrapped up some loose ends about my imminent blood draw, as I talked to the nurse at my center yesterday, and after some to do, was permitted to get another script that included the 6 extra values I was told should be included. I admitted that I only heard of these values from “research” and my bariatric “buddies”, and initially she was skeptical and a little rude, I thought. But, in all fairness, she said that she’d ask the doctor about adding them although they usually don’t test for such things, and got back to me to leave a message that a new script was waiting for me at the front desk. Tom went and picked it up for me, and it had all 6 things on it. These are vitamin A, K, E, zinc, selenium and TSH. She said that the magnesium level that I wanted checked, is already included in the standard panel.
Also, Tom scoped out a new Quest site for me, when the one I usually use was rude to him and said that the two phlebotomists I usually trust no longer worked there, and they could otherwise make no special concessions for me. He found another site where they were nice and accomodating, less busy, and said that they were great with “difficult draws”. Please leep your fingers crossed on this one! Monday at 8:30 am is the dreaded time for me, and I am so worried that they will fail, as this has happened many times before, and all I come home with is several punctures, a tear stained face, a valium low, and the misery of knowing I must do it all over again another day. I really don’t think I could handle it if this happened on Monday. I plan to drink mucho fluid, use hot compresses as Barb suggested, time the two valium I have just so, and exercise every anti-phobic strategy I have learned to the best of my ability. And pray!!
And for once, I can’t wait until Tuesday….
Weight: 192.2 lbs.
I remain down and am trying to think of creative ways to feel better…alcohol and food aside. I did have a long phone conversation with my friend Rose last night, and I daresay that this helped some on two accounts. We did talk cat, and in sharing her own stories of grief and guilt, and attempting to give her support and comfort, I too somehow ended up feeling a little better. She had a situation where she feels guilty for having done too much when her cat had cancer, and now feels badly that she put her through so much and had to euthanize her anyway just a few weeks later due to both the trauma of the surgery and treatments, and the disease itself. In the scheme of things, although we may not have opted to do everything to heal Callie, at least we did not put her through possibly useless and invasive treatments, and cause even more suffering. I think the moral is that there is really no good or right or wrong options, and each one probably brings its own regret and questions and guilt in the face of such a ravaging illness.
In addition to having such talks like this with myself, I am trying hard to focus on other aspects of balance. The other good thing that came from talking with Rose, is that she wants to join Tom and I metal detecting in the park on Saturday, and now we have bumped this up to picnic status, and it is giving me a little something to look forward to. Something decently healthy, natural and good for the soul, that is.
Also, tomorrow night is the Compeer picnic, and Sunday we have friends due over for brunch. I think I need to keep such a recreational/social pace, and look forward to cheering myself up in such ways.
I do feel as if I am fighting underlying forces that want to bring me down, and this worries me some as historically I am prone to depression. I hope that with such efforts and conscious vigilance, I can head off a crash. I may need to be even more creative if this weekends events and the end of my period don’t do the trick, however.
The other thing I am starting to worry about and that is creating some havoc for my mood and functioning, is my blood sugar levels. I left work in a fog a little early yesterday because I was so “fuzzy” I couldn’t think and finish off. I drove home in a blur, feeling messed up and shaky, and was stupid to not recognize what was going on sooner. But, when I came in the house, terribly irritable and immediately intent on doing more computer research on bloodwork (to formulate my strategy to talk with the bariatric nurse today), I could hardly even see, let alone think. I was shaking badly, and felt nauseous and weak. I called Tom in to test my blood, as it dawned on me that this could explain everything. And it was “57″.
And, I had eaten just a few hours earlier at my desk - in fact, frantically as I was famished and could hardly shovel food in my mouth fast enough as I felt hypoglycemic even then. I had handfuls of nuts and raisins (gorp), thinking this was the perfect pick me up.
But instead I think it almost killed me! Now I am not sure what is the best quick desk snack for when I get this way, plus I need to be more mindful of my symptoms, as driving with levels so low could be very dangerous. And I do feel as if I run low a lot - more often than not, in fact. I plan to discuss this with my center on my upcoming visit, but am seeing that it can be a relatively common and persistant problem for post gastric bypassers. And, can worsen in time and wreak havoc. And that although there may be strategies (like limiting carbs even more) to help, many people find that nothing works 100%, and they must learn to compensate and deal.
I’m not happy at this prospect, especially as I already feel rather overwhelmed and “gruncy” about everything.
I think I have my work cut out for me…but do hope that more work isn’t assigned before I get this stuff “right”!
Weight: 192.7
My weight has crept up a lot since just yesterday, I feel like perpetual crap, and I have taken to drinking wine at night. Really.
I have never cared about nor drank before, except on special occassions and if “fun” drinks like pina coladas were on the house and there was cause to enjoy.
At the cottage recently, we brought some old wine we’d had forever, and did drink while watching the sunsets and into the evenings - but strictly with friends.
Now I have started drinking these same wines at home…Tom too, while watching evening tv. I think we did this the last 3 or 4 nights, and I am coming to look forward to the buzz.
This can’t be a good thing, regardless of what they say about a little wine at night. It can’t be good for my diet, for my sugar intake, for my tendency to become addicted to everything pleasurable, for my morale.
But, I am in a strange emotional state called “I don’t give a flying S*** lately, and feeling sorely down and funked out enough that I’d probably drink arsenic too if it tasted good.
Yesterday I was especially frustrated with work, as well as getting no where yet with my blood work adventures. I will have to continue to see what I can do about this today, and still dread the prospect of questioning my center as well as having the blood itself drawn. At this rate, it will come out Zinfandel…and I don’t even care.
If this keeps up, I’ll either need therapy, an intervention, or a lobotomy. Or all three.
Whatever….
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September 3rd, 2010 | 
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