Well, I’ve lost my first 5 pounds on Weight Watchers. Yes, its been slow. One pound a week. That is slower than I’ve ever gone before with losing weight! But wait a minute! What am I saying? That obviously means that this isn’t my first time trying to accomplish this feat. No. Many times I have endeavored! Many! What has it gotten me? A lot of yoyo dieting and I ended up being heavier than I’ve ever been! It stops here!
For years I’ve been trying to lose weight, just hopping on the latest bandwagon diet. I loved the ones where I could see a lot of weight lost right away! Those were my favorites! But I’d quickly hop off once the weight loss slowed down. After all, I need instant gratification if I’m going around denying myself of the one thing I love more than life…food.
Wow, more than life? Let’s think about that for a minute.
Here’s my life fat: Tired. Ashamed. Introverted. Boring. Sick. Yeah, nice life. That’s not what I want for myself! That’s not what my family deserves of me either! What my kids must think of their mother! No! I don’t love food more than life! I want it all: energy, confidence, health, strength, amazing self-esteem! How could I be fooled into thinking that I would love food more than that, and settle for the fat life just so I could have my vanilla cake (and milkshake to go with it?) Really? How ashamed I am of myself! That’s not God’s plan for me!
So, slow progress. OK. That’s OK! I didn’t get this size in a couple of months and I shouldn’t expect it to just fall off of me either! I gained that weight because of the choices I made over time, and I’m going to have to lose it with different choices over time again. I can’t change my life in a day! One step at a time, my dear! That’s the way it’s going to have to go! And it will go! Even if I have to fight tooth and nail for every pound I lose every day from now until I reach my goal, that’s what I’ll do. I want my life back.
So: 5 pounds! I feel incredible!
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Monday, December 14, 2009
What Did He Just Say!!??
This will be a very difficult post to write. Not because I have sad news or anything. Just because I have to come to terms with something…and I thought that writing it down might make it more concrete for me. After all, the first step in a recovery program is admitting your problem, right? (Don’t worry, I’m not an alcoholic.)
Let me start by telling a little story. The night I was admitted to the hospital with my asthma attack, the on-call hospitalist came in to see me. He called from behind the curtain in his thick German or Scandinavian accent, “How are you do-eenk? Is eet OK for me to come in?” A short, stout, jolly man came peeking through the curtain. “Yes.” I gasped out.
He examined me and talked to me about my present condition, listened to my lungs, and asked me about my health history. That was all to be expected. Then it happened.
“Vat iss your BMI?” he asked as he scratched notes on his lap.
“I don’t know.” I answered shaking my head. Why in the world would I know my BMI off the top of my head? What a weird question. Especially since it was obvious I couldn’t breathe. Is that really a priority at this moment?
“I guess I vill haf to compute it myself,” he said under his breath. “How tall are you?...Vat iss your veight?” I begrudgingly answered him. He scratched more on his pad and poked at his pocket calculator. “Ah, yesss! You are obese.” And he left the room.
“Excuse me? What did he just call me?” I thought, quite put out. “Obese? That’s rediculous! I’m not obese!!! Not even close!” and then I thought about it more. “Oh Lord, how could this happen?...I’m…obese?”
I won’t exhaust you by telling about what happened next. You can read about it from my previous post. But when I got home I looked it up, calculated it myself, and looked it up again. Sure enough, it’s true. I’m in the obese category…according to somebody who made up this chart! OK…it’s time for me to be honest with myself.
I’m unhealthy! That’s probably the underlying reason I got sick! I’m “obese,” I don’t get enough sleep, I don’t eat very well, I don’t exercise, I’m stressed out…and now, I got sick because of it all. Something has to be done! My kids and my husband don’t deserve this from me. I don’t deserve this from me! This is not God’s will for me!
OK, so I have to make some changes. I have…(gulp)…to go on a diet. Weight Watchers (www.weightwatchers.com) is a good one, I guess. But I have to ask, and mourn a little bit: how will I…someone who loves cooking and baking as much as I do…give up wonderful, delicious food…which I believe is one of the many gifts God gave us to enjoy! This will take a lot of prayer.
So, I will keep you updated. My goal is to lose at least a pound per week until I’m in the middle of the “normal weight” category (a weight which I haven’t weighed since highschool.) I have been successful so far since I was discharged from the hospital, (even more than that) but the first few pounds are the easiest. If anyone has any encouragement or suggestions for me, please post comments! (Because I doubt I'm the only one who has this problem! I think a lot of my readers could benefit.)
So, here I go!... It will be a learning process.
Let me start by telling a little story. The night I was admitted to the hospital with my asthma attack, the on-call hospitalist came in to see me. He called from behind the curtain in his thick German or Scandinavian accent, “How are you do-eenk? Is eet OK for me to come in?” A short, stout, jolly man came peeking through the curtain. “Yes.” I gasped out.
He examined me and talked to me about my present condition, listened to my lungs, and asked me about my health history. That was all to be expected. Then it happened.
“Vat iss your BMI?” he asked as he scratched notes on his lap.
“I don’t know.” I answered shaking my head. Why in the world would I know my BMI off the top of my head? What a weird question. Especially since it was obvious I couldn’t breathe. Is that really a priority at this moment?
“I guess I vill haf to compute it myself,” he said under his breath. “How tall are you?...Vat iss your veight?” I begrudgingly answered him. He scratched more on his pad and poked at his pocket calculator. “Ah, yesss! You are obese.” And he left the room.
“Excuse me? What did he just call me?” I thought, quite put out. “Obese? That’s rediculous! I’m not obese!!! Not even close!” and then I thought about it more. “Oh Lord, how could this happen?...I’m…obese?”
I won’t exhaust you by telling about what happened next. You can read about it from my previous post. But when I got home I looked it up, calculated it myself, and looked it up again. Sure enough, it’s true. I’m in the obese category…according to somebody who made up this chart! OK…it’s time for me to be honest with myself.
I’m unhealthy! That’s probably the underlying reason I got sick! I’m “obese,” I don’t get enough sleep, I don’t eat very well, I don’t exercise, I’m stressed out…and now, I got sick because of it all. Something has to be done! My kids and my husband don’t deserve this from me. I don’t deserve this from me! This is not God’s will for me!
OK, so I have to make some changes. I have…(gulp)…to go on a diet. Weight Watchers (www.weightwatchers.com) is a good one, I guess. But I have to ask, and mourn a little bit: how will I…someone who loves cooking and baking as much as I do…give up wonderful, delicious food…which I believe is one of the many gifts God gave us to enjoy! This will take a lot of prayer.
So, I will keep you updated. My goal is to lose at least a pound per week until I’m in the middle of the “normal weight” category (a weight which I haven’t weighed since highschool.) I have been successful so far since I was discharged from the hospital, (even more than that) but the first few pounds are the easiest. If anyone has any encouragement or suggestions for me, please post comments! (Because I doubt I'm the only one who has this problem! I think a lot of my readers could benefit.)
So, here I go!... It will be a learning process.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Flu Gone WAY Wrong?
I daresay a touch of drama thrown into my life over the past weeks was necessary…especially to give me blog-writing material…but mostly to throw a blatant detour into what I thought was the rut of my life. Holy cow! Have I come to some awakenings! Many of my friends have graciously come to my aid, and have asked for an explanation of what happened to me so I’ll try to sum it up.
On October 8, I suddenly came down with a very high fever...which was not so uncommon in the middle of a mass-media exposed frenzied flu season with everyone believing that one cough is a sign of doom from dreaded H1N1. It’s the flu, right? It’s all just the flu, just like any other season. So we’ll just get over it. And I did. Sort of. The fever lasted a couple of days, and then I had an annoying cough…that wouldn’t go away. But again, typical for the flu. I was working and carrying out my responsibilities just fine…but the cough persisted and was getting worse. My husband told me to go to the doctor. My friends at work were no doubt annoyed by my hacking all the time. But, any day I expected to wake up and find myself well. I have an immune system of steel. I even got the H1N1 vaccine after the fact (even though I really wasn’t feeling very well. Probably not the best of plans.)
Finally, October 27, the cough got bad enough that I heeded my husband’s word, threw in the towel, and went to see Dr. Zoglo. “You look a little short of breath,” he noted. “Yes,” I agreed, really coming to that admission only just that instant. “You’re really wheezy…even in the front,” he noted as he listened to my lungs. OK….so antibiotics and an inhaler. Done. Get on with life. Unfortunately, it persisted, and I found myself counting the minutes until I could use the inhaler again, and again. I got a lot of comments like: “Janette are you OK?” “Janette you sound horrible!” I would have violent coughing fits at work and miss responsibilities. I became forgetful and out of focus. But I went to choir practice anyway on November 4, and left coughing worse than ever…in my life. Back to the doctor on November 5.
I sat on the exam table breathing like I just ran up the stairs. Wheezing. Exhausted. My pulse 115. “OK, I think let’s take you off work for a couple of days and start some Prednisone. “ He changed my antibiotic. But the Prednisone got my attention. That’s pretty major medication for a healthy young woman to have to take. I knew of my father-in-law’s struggles with it and it scared me. But somewhat relieved by the excuse to rest, I called into work, and went to bed. But I couldn’t lay down without gasping for air or having another violent coughing fit. All I could do was sit up on the couch and cough, and gasp. I couldn’t speak a full sentence without getting winded. But still in denial, I told my husband to bring me a load of laundry to fold on the bed. With just the activity of moving my arms back and forth, I went into a full-blown asthma attack. The inhaler only worked for minutes. My breathing sounded like a saw on wood. At just after midnight, I gasped to my husband that I was driving myself to the hospital. (OK, he didn’t let me drive myself.) We woke a friend to stay with the kids, and left with me insisting he drive me to the hospital where I worked even though it was further away than another one…but really…it was worth the extra 10 minutes.
“What are they going to do for you?” my husband asked not knowing what to expect. “They’ll probably just give me a nebulizer treatment and send me home.” Well, wrong. They admitted me immediately. I was shocked.
They ran tests for everything from H1N1 to Pertussis; from chest X-rays for Pneumonia to CT Scans for sinus issues and lung masses. They tested me for blood clots in my lungs because my blood tests came up positive for the possibility. (They scared my husband to death!) All turned out negative. The question: Why would an otherwise healthy woman have such a marked reaction to having the flu? The answer: inconclusive unfortunately. It took me four days of IV steroids and constant nebulizer treatments to turn the corner, and another day and a half to convert to medications by mouth. I was shockingly weakened (to my own eyes at least.) I was…..(ugh….)….incontinent from the forceful cough (don’t act so surprised…it’s a gift of remembrance for many a postpartum mothers.) I couldn’t believe that…I…a healthy nurse for crying out loud…was in that position! It was fantastically surreal.
And now, a week after being discharged, I have been amazed and frustrated at how long it has taken me to gain my strength back. But nevertheless, I have made improvement enough that I can do some things around the house…and sit here and write. I still do not have the clearance from my doctor to go back to work…which I’m sure is hard for my co-workers to understand…it’s hard for me to understand…and I leave them working short.
I have a lot of other thoughts and things to mention that I will write in separate posts. I’ve learned some things from this. I’m anticipating some changes from all this. I have been blessed by my friends and family and owe a huge thank-you to all of them because of all this. So be expecting more to come.
On October 8, I suddenly came down with a very high fever...which was not so uncommon in the middle of a mass-media exposed frenzied flu season with everyone believing that one cough is a sign of doom from dreaded H1N1. It’s the flu, right? It’s all just the flu, just like any other season. So we’ll just get over it. And I did. Sort of. The fever lasted a couple of days, and then I had an annoying cough…that wouldn’t go away. But again, typical for the flu. I was working and carrying out my responsibilities just fine…but the cough persisted and was getting worse. My husband told me to go to the doctor. My friends at work were no doubt annoyed by my hacking all the time. But, any day I expected to wake up and find myself well. I have an immune system of steel. I even got the H1N1 vaccine after the fact (even though I really wasn’t feeling very well. Probably not the best of plans.)
Finally, October 27, the cough got bad enough that I heeded my husband’s word, threw in the towel, and went to see Dr. Zoglo. “You look a little short of breath,” he noted. “Yes,” I agreed, really coming to that admission only just that instant. “You’re really wheezy…even in the front,” he noted as he listened to my lungs. OK….so antibiotics and an inhaler. Done. Get on with life. Unfortunately, it persisted, and I found myself counting the minutes until I could use the inhaler again, and again. I got a lot of comments like: “Janette are you OK?” “Janette you sound horrible!” I would have violent coughing fits at work and miss responsibilities. I became forgetful and out of focus. But I went to choir practice anyway on November 4, and left coughing worse than ever…in my life. Back to the doctor on November 5.
I sat on the exam table breathing like I just ran up the stairs. Wheezing. Exhausted. My pulse 115. “OK, I think let’s take you off work for a couple of days and start some Prednisone. “ He changed my antibiotic. But the Prednisone got my attention. That’s pretty major medication for a healthy young woman to have to take. I knew of my father-in-law’s struggles with it and it scared me. But somewhat relieved by the excuse to rest, I called into work, and went to bed. But I couldn’t lay down without gasping for air or having another violent coughing fit. All I could do was sit up on the couch and cough, and gasp. I couldn’t speak a full sentence without getting winded. But still in denial, I told my husband to bring me a load of laundry to fold on the bed. With just the activity of moving my arms back and forth, I went into a full-blown asthma attack. The inhaler only worked for minutes. My breathing sounded like a saw on wood. At just after midnight, I gasped to my husband that I was driving myself to the hospital. (OK, he didn’t let me drive myself.) We woke a friend to stay with the kids, and left with me insisting he drive me to the hospital where I worked even though it was further away than another one…but really…it was worth the extra 10 minutes.
“What are they going to do for you?” my husband asked not knowing what to expect. “They’ll probably just give me a nebulizer treatment and send me home.” Well, wrong. They admitted me immediately. I was shocked.
They ran tests for everything from H1N1 to Pertussis; from chest X-rays for Pneumonia to CT Scans for sinus issues and lung masses. They tested me for blood clots in my lungs because my blood tests came up positive for the possibility. (They scared my husband to death!) All turned out negative. The question: Why would an otherwise healthy woman have such a marked reaction to having the flu? The answer: inconclusive unfortunately. It took me four days of IV steroids and constant nebulizer treatments to turn the corner, and another day and a half to convert to medications by mouth. I was shockingly weakened (to my own eyes at least.) I was…..(ugh….)….incontinent from the forceful cough (don’t act so surprised…it’s a gift of remembrance for many a postpartum mothers.) I couldn’t believe that…I…a healthy nurse for crying out loud…was in that position! It was fantastically surreal.
And now, a week after being discharged, I have been amazed and frustrated at how long it has taken me to gain my strength back. But nevertheless, I have made improvement enough that I can do some things around the house…and sit here and write. I still do not have the clearance from my doctor to go back to work…which I’m sure is hard for my co-workers to understand…it’s hard for me to understand…and I leave them working short.
I have a lot of other thoughts and things to mention that I will write in separate posts. I’ve learned some things from this. I’m anticipating some changes from all this. I have been blessed by my friends and family and owe a huge thank-you to all of them because of all this. So be expecting more to come.
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