Listening To My Life

Anew: What I got from taking the easy way

Sitting in a cold exam room, I scanned the numbers on the printout lying on the sheet-covered table. Seeing that my A1C was below 5, I asked my endocrinologist when, if ever, I could actually say I’d beaten diabetes and am no longer diabetic. She smiled and said, “Now.”

This is why I had surgery. This is why I took the path of ease (and that some called a radical path). I’d eaten my way into diabetes, and I was determined to eat my way back out. I did it to save my life. I did it to be healthy. I did it because I didn't want this disease to render me blind, or numb, or without a digit or an appendage. I did it because of all the things that I absolutely can't do anything about, I had a way to do something about this. And I took that easy way. Beating diabetes was always the end game--my audacious goal.

And I’ve done what I set out to do. I can’t even begin to tell you what this feels like. It’s absolutely on par with learning, last summer, that I have a super-healthy heart. This news today was so big and I was so very giddy, that I almost missed the fact that all my other labs were wonderfully normal, too.

As for why I asked that question, it was because I’d heard this--that one actually never beats it. I’d heard that it’s always just over there somewhere, waiting to come back. I’d heard that it’s much the same as the belief (held by many people in the world of addiction), that addicts can never be free of the addiction—but will always be "in recovery."

I know it can come back, the diabetes. But in the same way that I can get a cold, get well, and not spend the rest of my life calling myself a “recovering cold-haver,” I can get on with my life and only call myself diabetic if I get the disease again.

If. Not when. A lovely distinction, that.

For now, and possibly the rest of my life*, I’m free.

*I'm thinking uber positively about this!

Saying hello to me

This has been a fairly surreal couple of days.

Yesterday, I got my hair cut--it's still mainly the same, only shorter for summer, and, I think, it's a bit more flirty (some have said "sassy").

I decided to take a pic of myself to share the new do with far-flung friends (it's up there in the right-hand corner of the blog). In doing so, I posted it to Facebook. When I did, I could then see it, very near to the old picture I've been using. As crazy as it may sound, it was really the first time I'd SEEN how much different I look today, than I did when that pic was taken.

I think the thing is that, for me, this journey has been lived second by second. And while the numbers in my dress size have reduced, in looking at myself in the mirror, I hadn't really noticed the changes. And, not one to love having my picture taken, it's not as if I've had gobs of evidence along the way to tell me the truth of things.

But there it was, in a way I couldn't deny. And what happened next? I had something akin to an anxiety attack. I couldn't breathe well. I paced like a caged animal. I called E and cried piteously. I felt like I wanted to climb out of my skin.

It didn't last terribly long (thank goodness!), although I'm still processing the changes I'm now seeing, and trying to get a grasp on what made me so anxious (the best I can do at the moment is say that in posting the new pic, I feel like I did a sort of "unveiling" of myself that I'd not done before, and that, for some reason, that felt huge and scary right then).

Since then, being committed to what is, as I am, I've changed my photo everywhere I know it to be (except my site--but that's coming), so that I can't either forget, deny where I am today, or pooh-pooh the immenseness of the journey I've been on and what I've accomplished to date.

And to make it even more "real" to me, I decided to compare, side by side, a photo taken of me this month last year, and the pic I snapped yesterday. Not that it's my nature, anyway, but truly, there's just no way to hide from the truth of things.

I think it's time to step more fully into who I've become, and in every respect where it makes sense, let go of who I was. I'm not longer hiding...and although still oddly a bit uncomfortable, I know it's good to say hello to THIS me.

Anew: Tonight, I'm pissed

This isn't something I've written about with any depth, and as I begin this post, I'm not sure how deeply I'm going to go now.  But here's what started things: I was clearning, and found a Polaroid taken of my (then) BFF Erica and me on the occasion of her ring dance in the fall of '81. I was 17.

I took a snap of said Polaroid (which accounts for the crappy image) and here it is--I'm on the right.

The very first thing that hits me when I see pics of me as a teenager is that I was NOT fat. Tall? You bet. Big-boned? Absolutely. Healthy? Completely. Fat? Not even remotely.

In fact, on seeing this pic tonight, E said, "God, you were a HOTTIE." Yeah.. I was. Blonde, blue-eyed, tall, stacked, really smart, I could SING (seriously sing, I tell ya), and, as I remarked before, I was healthy.

Yet if you'd asked me back then, I'd have told you that the message I'd been given for about as long as I could remember was that I was fat and had to lose weight. Not just a few pounds, either, but a SIGNIFICANT amount of weight. That message came from my mother, and from my teachers at the exclusive prep school I attended. At the time of this photo, my mother had me doing Nutrisystem; 30 years later, I can still conjure the smell of the powdered scrambled egg yech I had to eat every morning.

I don't honestly know what any of them were thinking. Ok, that's not true. My mother was probably thinking that I was imperfect and reflecting less well on her than I could. But my teachers? I still don't get that one. But it sure pisses me off that none of them could see the truth of me, and that I believed their lies. I know my friend Leslie would tell a very similar story (same teachers, even!), and I guarantee there are countless women (and men) in the world today who were told similar things (maybe you, even?).

Not too very long ago, a good friend and his wife (and I believe a teacher or two) were convinced that their pre-teen daughter was fat. And they were trying to get her to lose weight without making her self-conscious. I had a near violent reaction (projection, I'm sure, but it prompted me to open my yap--something I wish someone had done for me when I was young). "Just leave her alone," I said. "Let her grow into herself."  That's pretty much what they ended up doing (not because I said something), and she has, and continues to, grow into herself--not fat.

I know that parents mean well. I believe doctors do, too. They do the best they can with what they have, and they really often create more problems than they try to prevent--at least as it applies to overweight kids. 

So from this pissed-off place, I beg you to leave your kids alone. They're people...not shrubs to prune and shape into some effed-up image of perfection. Teach them good eating habits. Find them activities they love and yearn to do. Be active with them. Then let them run and play and be who they are. And let their bodies grow naturally. If there's a genuine problem, you'll know soon enough. But please, don't create one where one simply doesn't exist.

On behalf of "fat" kids everywhere...thank you for reading this. :)

Anew: Slowing it all down

Back when I started this whole escapade, I wrote a post about how I felt certain that there were more things afoot that had people gain back lost weight than simply not making appropriate life changes.

As I stare down a current loss of nearly 100lbs, I realize that I've slowed my loss. It's been delightful in some ways, all the changes I've experienced, and really freaky in others. For instance, my innards are still playing a sort of WTF song as they wonder what I've done to myself, and work to catch up. Another? Ok -- seeing bones peeking out of me that I've never seen and didn't know people had is delightful, till the first (or 30th) time I've banged them because, in some ways, I'm unaware of how my body fits in the world, and I move the wrong way, or too fast, or SOMETHING that causes a bump or bang to a newly exposed bit o'me.  

There's a lot of change, and it's all really showed up superfast...and I'm finding it a bit difficult to keep up with it all. And I have 50-ish more pounds to go.

Add to that that I'm thinking I'm probably going to have to have some plastic surgery. I made peace with that possibility before I decided to go on this journey. But I swear, seeing some of the changes in my body where once there were only imaginings--that's hard.

So I've slowed things down. I've eaten less protein than I "should." I'm not walking as much as I "should." All in an attempt to let me catch my breath, and get with the program.

I'm not there yet. But I just wanted to share that I'm really trying to get there, and that I'm absolutely no where near wanting to reverse and head back where I came from.

Anew: 13 MORE??

So here's a mind eff of huge magnitude.

D says to me, "I think our scale is off. I'm sure of it, actually."

Since there's no way to calibrate it, we got a new one. On it, I weight 13 lbs more than I did on the old one. THIRFREAKINTEEN!

I freaked up one side of the street and right down the other. I did. I ordered him to go to work (he works in a hospital) and hop on a scale to see which one was right (or even most right). He called today to say the new scale is spot on.

Seriously dude? SERIOUSLY?

He tried to soothe me by saying that I probably had lost as much weight as I'd believed I had; that, in truth, I would have always weighed 13 lbs more on the new scale. I was having none of it, and just gave him some serious stink eye.

'Cause even if that's true, it changes EVERYTHING. I now can no longer say that I weigh less than at any other time in my adult life. I now can't say that I only have X lbs left to lose. I now can't FEEL what I've been feeling recently specifically with regard to the loss. I've believed, from day one, that that scale was telling me the truth, and was, somehow, my ally in this journey of mine. Now, I feel deceived.

I get that, in the grand scheme of things, 13 lbs is just a drop in the bucket to what I've accomplished and will continue to accomplish. But right now? It's got me up at 230am writing about it.

As always, thanks for listening :)

Anew: Lessons learned from old pjs

Remember back when I posted about ditching 100+ items of clothing that no longer fit?

I didn't ditch my pjs. I reasoned that pjs that were extra roomy could only be pjs that were extra comfy.

But then tonight, I put on a pair of old, big, comfy pjs, clipped my Blackberry to the waist band of my bottoms, took two steps, and the pjs literally fell off my ass. I guess the combo--pjs that were too big, plus the couple of ounces of weight of the Blackberry and holster--were just too much.

And the lesson? Don't hang on to stuff you've outgrown. ANY stuff you've outgrown. There's a reason it's been outgrown, and holding on to it only postpones the inevitable...that of getting the new stuff you so richly deserve, and that fits you perfectly!

Anew: Buh-bye Doc

So I got news that my surgeon, Alex Gandsas (handsome, ain't he?) is leaving Baltimore for somewhere in NJ. Good for folks in NJ, and not so good for me and those of us here who think he's the bomb, and wish he were going to be continuing our care.

Not sure why he's going (I haven't asked him), but other people I've talked with suspect that where he is now isn't treating him like the rockstar he is...and the new place has promised to. Heck, if that's the case, I'd go, too.

His partner will be taking over my care. And I like her well enough, and I trust her. She's just not the guy, yanno? No, you couldn't possibly, cause you're not me! He's the guy who said "yes" to my request for the surgery, the guy who said the magic thing that got me to believe that this could be the right path for me--before he ever met me, the guy who has always treated me super-well, even as other people have told me what a prick he is.The guy who did a VSG through one hole (not mine, but heck... that's impressive!). The guy who tweeted a bypass. He's THAT guy.

I don't like docs much. Those I do I really do. He's one of those. And I'll miss him. And I wish he were going to be around to see me when I'm done.

Btw...71 as of today. :)

Anew: Back from Minneapolis

I shipped most of the protein (I know you're wondering!), and what I took with me, no one even bothered with. Guess I just don't fit the profile of someone trying to smuggle blow through security.

Minneapolis was flat out wonderful in every possible context of that word. I spent time with new friends and old friends (including one I'd not seen in more than 20 years!), did very good work, and fell in love with a pair of cities I never expected to love.

I didn't lose any weight, but I gained none, either--a very good outcome considering how many times I ate in restaurants. The good news is that since returning home, I've lost five pounds. Gotta love that!

While I was away, I really only had one culinary adventure (without E). TJ, who is eating raw, had brought with her some dehydrated veggies. If you've ever eaten dehydrated veggies, you know that they aren't moist in the least (hence the DEhydrated part of the show), and they take a bit of work to actually eat. However, they caused me no difficulty, which is why, I suppose, I thought I could eat Terra Chips (now forever to be called Terror Chips).

I've eaten Terra Chips many times over the years, since about 1997 when Cheryl introduce me to them during one of my visits. I've never had a problem with them. But THIS time, in addition to bringing them back up, I had some odd allergic reaction. Let's just say that my face looked like it was covered in red war paint.

An hour later, I was fine, and on my way to an evening event.

But no more Terror Chips. And still no eggs. And bread doesn't work as well as I would like--even toasted, which is supposed to be easier than untoasted. Certainly nothing I can't live without, but still.

Somewhere along the way I said I was going to get a bike in September. Not gonna happen. BUT, I'm sitting in on a yoga class in a few days, with an eye toward starting classes. D wants to take them with me, so I think it would be fun. I need to get stronger.

Anew: Catching up

I've been missing. Only because I'm about to head to Minneapolis for about 10 days of work, and there's much to be done before I go. Included in that is how to get my protein powder past airport security without their thinking I'm smuggling blow to Minneapolis. I mean, it smells like chocolate, and it tastes like whey protein, but you never know about those TSA folks. And I have to find nice, silk-lined presentation boxes for crystal awards I'm giving at a ceremony. Why? Because the company we bought the awards from said they came with preso boxes, but they didn't bother to tell us that the preso boxes were thin...more like shirt boxes, or that they would fall apart when picked up. Can't give an award to someone in a box that's falling apart as it's being handled. Don't ever use Awarding You for your award needs. Really. I mean it. They genuinely aren't about taking care of people, and their tag line, "Our quality is crystal clear" is a buncha hooey.

So, to catch up... when last you saw me (about two weeks ago), I was annoyed about not having lost more weight, and was trying to remind myself about ease and enjoying the ride.

It ended up being a simple thing (surprisingly) to get back into ease, and to trust that my body is doing exactly what it is supposed to be doing, as I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing.

And then I went for a visit with my lovely nutritionist, and found out that at this point, post op, the average loss is 19-21% of the excess weight . I've lost 33%. Yeah. Blew my mind, that. So I'm shutting up about weight loss. Again--I'm going to just trust that my body is doing what it's supposed to be doing. Nuff said.

I've had no new culinary adventures, although I think I'm about to, thanks to this fabulous blog. I had no idea I could use my beloved protein powder to make cakes and ice cream...and may have to try some of that to see what it's like.

Eating isn't any easier. And what works today may not work tomorrow (quite literally). But I know that this is all part of the process and it will get easier.

Prior to surgery, one of the questions everyone on the medical and psych sides of things ask is about whether you'll be ready for the changes that will come after surgery. Back then, I said I didn't know. I felt certain that wasn't the answer THEY wanted, but it was the truth. I mean, I thought I would be, but how can anyone know that about something she's never done before? I really had to get here first, and find out what the reality of it would be. And now, knowing what I know, and experiencing what I'm experiencing, I can absolutely say that it's all doable. And I would do it all again.

Diving into the unknown isn't always as scary as it seems. Just sayin'.

Anew: Enjoying the ride

Ease--remember? That's what this year, and my life, are about now.

And it wasn't until I read this morning's Note From the Universe, that I realized that there's something about this journey I have blocked. The Note read:

One of the trickiest things about life is that, at times, it happens so slowly.

Yet... if... it... happened... any... faster... you'd... already... have... everything... you... ever... wanted... without... learning... to... enjoy... the... ride.

I've been annoyed that I'm not losing more weight. I've been annoyed a lot more than I've actually been delighted. I haven't, really, been enjoying the ride--even as I've taken the time to notice what's happening (as I mentioned in my last post).

Still, I've been in a hurry. I've been impatient. I've not been especially grateful. In fact, I'm a bit resentful, and in a WTF kinda place. This bit of things--basically stalled with the weight loss--shouldn't be happening (in my mind, at least). I didn't have 80% of my stomach hacked off to not lose weight--I was doing that just fine all by myself.

I keep being pulled back to this video with Abraham (click on the video you'll see when the page opens), and this morning, the Note, plus another viewing of the video got me to realize that I'm still paddling upstream with this. I'm still working hard. I'm still struggling. And I need to find a way to stop it, and to just go with the flow and trust that my body will do what it needs to do to be healthy.