Hard

This week has been hard; there's no two ways about it.  I've been feeling stressed, so my psoriasis is flared up (and I keep scratching it), and even my stomach has been hurting.  I've cried several times at work (mostly Monday and Tuesday) due to frustrations with my job and the person to whom I report (I don't do well when given contradicting instructions).

I feel like I'm running out of money; I have a deep-seated, never-before-admitted fear that purchasing the "penthouse" (my condo) was a mistake, that it was more than I can handle financially.  My sister was denied her disability by the judge, and the lawyer we hired (who only gets paid if my sister gets paid, BTW) has basically said that was her best chance.  So I really, really need her to get a job.  STAT.  But she doesn't really do anything "stat."  And that's going to be a problem as I continue to stress out.

I'm back to having hard mornings -- where it's hard to feel good about anything, where I feel like I generally hate everything.  Sure the season/lack of light doesn't help, but we're through the worst of it already, so I'm not sure that's entirely to blame.  But I miss those days when I was like, "Is this what it's like to feel happy?"

News and photos out of Australia are incredibly upsetting.  I've joined some crafting groups to make things to send for the animals, but between shipping costs, confusion over drop-off sites, regulations on what materials to use, and I think the Aussies have put a two-week hold on accepting donations, it just doesn't seem worth it right now.  They'd be better off with a monetary donation (which I don't really have).

I felt a surge of relief yesterday when I realized that it was actually Thursday.  I was somehow stuck in a Wednesday loop, that this hard week was lasting forever.  I was grateful it was Thursday.  But then Thursday itself lasted forever.  By 1 p.m. I couldn't believe it was only 1 p.m. as I had clearly had three full workdays in that time.  Time is a social construct.

As I get stressed, I find it hard to keep up with everyday things.  I haven't been logging my meals or steps in my fitness tracker; my weight is going back up.  I've barely remembered to log things in my ovulation tracker, which is all over the place as my body isn't sure what the fuck it's doing since I had my IUD removed.  Which could also explain some mood things, too.

In other words, it's Friday, it's not a payday, it's pouring down rain, and I really, really want to not do adult things for the next 24-72 hours.  Who's ready to hire a professional napper?  Because I am ready and available.

Losing Leonard

A Story About Shrinking

(Meaning We're Talking about Weight Loss Stuff)

So I started a new weight loss/get healthy(er) program the other week.  Thanks to things like age and the fact that I don't walk across a campus and teach all day anymore, I was weighing more than I ever have before in my life.  I'm five-foot-three-and-a-half, people!  (And with a "small frame" if you believe those BMI chart thingies.)  I should not have the same "ideal" weight as a six-foot-tall man.

People said I "still looked great" when I would casually mention this and while I mostly believe them, the important thing for me was that my clothes were starting to not fit or be tight or uncomfortable or (worse yet) fairly unflattering.  And I simply don't have the budget to buy a whole new wardrobe to fit my expanding belly and booty and boobs (and other body parts that don't start with the letter "b").  And some of my current clothes are really cute, dammit!  I don't want to get rid of them.

And my previous ideas of using MyFitnessPal to log my meals and trying to work out wasn't cutting it.  Frankly, because I wasn't doing it (especially the "working out" part).  And this new program promised to help me build healthy, long-lasting habits which are (apparently) key to not only losing weight, but keeping it off.

One of the big things with this program is to celebrate my wins/successes/whatever.  That's not easy for me.  I mean, I will definitely toot my own horn about my awesomeness in other arenas, but talking about these goals/wins, especially since some of them are so tiny, feels weird for me.  It may be in part because I've never struggled with my weight before; I've never had to worry about what I eat.  I've always been curvy (read:  "BOOBS, I have 'em"), but I've also always been slender/properly proportioned.  But you know the old story:  you hit 30 or 35 and your metabolism suddenly says, "Well, that was fun!" and packs its bags, abandoning you mid-snack-break.

So this is me, trying to celebrate some "wins" and healthy habits.  For example:  I've been eating apples -- grabbing one on the way out the door to have as a mid-morning snack, having one as a side with my lunch instead of chips or bread.

And let me tell you, that is a BIG DEAL because I love me some crunchy, savory, salty, delicious carbs.  Keep your sweets, your desserts, your chocolate and cakes and ice cream.  Hand me a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine, and I'll be a happy camper.  

Don't mistake me; this program doesn't say to cut anything out entirely or to deny yourself things.  It's more about moderation; "moderation in all things," as Aristotle taught us.  So, y'know, I'm not supposed to eat just the bread, or ALL the bread ALL the time.

Today I ordered my lunch (before walking the 0.6 miles, roundtrip, to pick it up and come back to the office), and I hesitated.  I almost picked that delicious side of French baguette to go with my turkey chili.  I really, really wanted it.  And I can have it, remember!  Just not all the time.  And then I remembered that I'm planning on making pot roast with potatoes and carrots and gravy for dinner this evening, so maybe I should save some of my carbs and calories for that and holy shit another healthy habit just happened!

Planning ahead, also filed under "Shit I'm Not Good At."  

I don't plan ahead (food-wise).  I don't "meal prep."  I haven't been looking ahead at my calorie allotment for the day and planning accordingly -- or planning at all. 

But look at that!  Up there!  I just did it!  Go me!

So I ordered my apple and was a little proud of myself.  And I walked to the restaurant (0.3 miles, per Google Maps) to pick it up and then walked back to my office again (0.6 miles total because math).  And I opened my bag to get out my bowl of turkey chili and there was my apple, happy to see me.  But what's that?  The bag is still heavy?  I look inside, and the restaurant also gave me the chunk of French baguette (equally happy to see me).

Curse you, and your accidental carbohydrate generosity, restaurant!

I won't be eating either item anytime soon as I'm thankfully I'm stuffed from lunch -- well, not "thankfully."  The goal is to feel satisfied, not "stuffed" or uncomfortably full.

Today's Pro-Tip:  if you're also getting a smoothie, you probably only need a cup of soup rather than a bowl.

So now the apple and the bread are both just sitting on my desk, staring at me, possibly judging me.  #SuspiciousStillLife

Please note:  this post is not a request for tips or advice, nor is it an advertisement for said program.  If you want info on it, just message me directly.

Cysts, Cancers, and Colons

This week's post is brought to you by the letter "C"!  And yes, it is all about bodily functions, so consider this your TMI warning.

 I know I have written about my battle with chronic pain and ovarian cysts before, but there's more:  almost two years ago, I went to the doctor because, in the course of approximately two months, I had lost 13% of my total body weight, unintentionally.  And while it was fun for a bit that some clothes I hadn't worn in a decade suddenly fit again, any medical provider will tell you that losing even 5% of your body weight in under a year (unintentionally) is cause for alarm and, at the very least, a doctor's visit.  And it became less fun when the majority of my clothes literally fell off me.  So I went to the doctor.  And she began a series of tests after checking me physically for lesions and asking about my family medical history because, hey, unexplained weight loss is often a sign of cancer.

What followed were several blood tests, an X-ray of my chest, and a combination endoscopy and colonoscopy, among other things.  Leonard did not have cancer of the colon or even polyps, as originally suspected.  But the pain and bloating were increasing.  So we moved on to other parts of the body -- namely, the female parts.  Leonard's cysts were back in action, one ovary was larger than the other, and there was that pesky polyp (named "Ted") still hanging out.

The new OB/GYN conducted more ultrasounds, and a new (to me) procedure called a hysterosonography, and did I mention that Leonard was doing a show throughout all of this?  A showing  on a moving fucking bus??  So yeah, that hurt.  A lot.

Then Leonard had surgery to remove "Ted" (and his previously unnoticed roommate), check for endometriosis, and look for interstitial cystitis (cysts in the bladder).  There were no ovarian cysts at the time of surgery (they had probably burst or been reabsorbed), and surprisingly, no endometriosis.  My bladder was "okay but not great."  I was just barely at the standard level for number of mL my bladder could hold.  The photos taken showed lots of teeny tiny broken blood vessels, but nothing bad enough for an "official" diagnosis (just something to watch).  She did notice that my sigmoid colon "seemed enlarged," which can happen if one is often constipated.

Removing Ted & Co. made a huge difference in my quality of life.  I no longer have to call off of work because of my period and the pain it causes.  I no longer throw huge, dollar-sized clots or have to change a tampon at least once (sometimes twice) during the middle of the night because of the amount of blood I'm hemorrhaging.

After the couple of weeks it took me to fully recover from outpatient surgery, I felt good.  Really good.  I don't think I had realized how much pain I had been in until it wasn't there anymore.  I would put off certain chores like cleaning the litterboxes and taking out the trash not just because they're gross, but because they would exhaust me.  I could do them (and other things) now without feeling completely spent afterwards; I could bend and move without pain.

A few months after that, some of the pains came back.  And the bloating.  OH THE BLOATING.  Painful bloating where Leonard's clothes couldn't fit.  Pain and bloating associated with (painful) ovulation shouldn't last more than a day (often not even that).  The OB/GYN suggested a new GI doctor.  The OB/GYN also pointed out that a clean colonoscopy just means there aren't polyps in my colon; it doesn't necessarily mean my colon is working correctly or any number of other things.

After a series of three tests, the GI doctor diagnosed Leonard with SIBO:  Small Intestine Bacterial Overgrowth.  We've since learned that it's not all that uncommon.  2 weeks of antibiotics, 4 weeks of probiotics.  She also gave me a list of the "low FODMAPS diet."  (Don't ask Leonard what "fodmaps" stands for; I have no idea.)  The GI doctor cautioned that said diet must be followed strictly for at least four weeks in order to see if it's helping (it doesn't always help everyone).  As this was now November 2015, she recommended waiting until after the New Year so I didn't "ruin my holidays."  (Without even telling her, she seemed to know that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday just due to the food.)  Funnily enough, many of the low fodmaps foods are things I already eat, so I didn't have high hopes for that.

Fast forward to just last week:  the pains (on the left side) are back.  I'm not ovulating.  Maybe I'm just constipated?  I'm a little constipated?  Why would constipation cause a pain in that particular spot?  I wondered.  And then I remembered what the OB/GYN had said about my sigmoid colon.  So I did a quick Google search of female anatomy:  where is the sigmoid colon in relation to the ovaries?

Copyright Amicus Visual Solutions

Jesus fucking Christ, it's right there!  LOOK AT IT!!  The pain I've been having, on and off, for the greater part of three years may have been caused by needing to poop.

Okay, I'm sure there have been other factors; the OB/GYN was sure to point out that because so many things have similar symptoms and overlap (sometimes literally physically), that we have to peel back the layers one by one, dealing with each issue singularly.  But FUCK!  Couldn't someone have searched like I did and said, "Hey, look at that!  Those two organs are touching.  That probably hurts!"

A dear friend, in response to something else, recently said, "That's why they call it 'practicing medicine.'"  Indeed.

So those are my bodily functions for the past 18+ months in a nutshell.  I have gained back all of the weight I lost due to exhaustion and surgery, and I'm not happy about it.  Exhaustion is setting in again, and it may be time to reevaluate my schedule of back-to-back-to-back shows/projects in addition to a 40-hour work week.  But I won't be able to do that until my schedule is free again....at the end of September 2016.