About five years ago Brennis and I lost our sweet, lovable dog Abby to cushing's disease. I will be honest: I don't think I was ever so heartbroken in my entire life. I cried and cried and thought I would never stop. We didn't go to work for two days. I have never felt such an overwhelming sadness for anything or anyone before. I told Brennis I didn't want to get another dog because I couldn't stand to go through that kind of pain again.
The thing about being part of a couple is that sometimes you have to compromise. Soon after Abby died Brennis was on the Dog Pound's website looking at pictures of dogs who looked like Abby or dogs that he thought would fit into our home. I was upset because he wasn't honoring my wish not to have another dog though I understood why he was doing what he was doing. I hoped that it was just a stage in his grieving process.
A few weeks later we got an email from friends of ours who volunteer at the pound and also rescue dogs. Attached was a picture of a cream colored Llaso Apso that bore more than a slight resemblance to our deceased black Shih Tzu, Abby. This scruffy unnamed dog was about to be destroyed by the pound because he had not been placed and because he was "overly agressive". He needed to find a home right away or he was not going to live. I hated being pressured like this, especially after I had tried to make myself clear about how I felt about getting another dog but I agreed to go down to the pound and look at him. I somehow knew that I was going to end up coming home with a dog that day but I still tried to keep an open mind.
When we got to the pound we were taken to the cages where "our" dog was being held. Our friend removed him from the cage and placed him on the ground near us. Without hesitation and with absolutely no indication of aggression this sweet boy jumped up onto us as though he knew we were there to save him. It was one of those moments when you realize that there is a magical element to life that you can never plan for. As the workers at the pound stood open-mouthed and watched as our aggressive dog jumped up onto our knees and kissed our hands we told them that we would be taking our dog home. It was obvious to both Brennis and me that this was meant to be and clearly it was obvious to Chance, our new dog, as well.
Earlier this year when I began my medical tests I tried to find some kind of peace and told myself that whatever the outcome might be it was "meant to be". Of course it's not so easy to really convince yourself of that when you're in the midst of it. I was somewhat numb, somewhat terrified, somewhat resigned to whatever might happen. I vacillated generally between panic and calm most of the time for the six weeks it took to get through all of the testing and the results. I knew that there was nothing I could do at this point to alter the results of the tests so I had to just accept the results as I got them. I was hardly ready for really bad news but I knew after what I went through last year with Brennis I (we) would be able to handle whatever life handed us.
I will spare you the details of the tests since they are not particularly interesting and quite frankly both of the major tests are embarrassing and gross. The first was the colonoscopy which was the one I was particularly worried about since I had had some intestinal problems when I was in my 20's. Thankfully, that test came out perfectly. I had nothing wrong that they could see and there wasn't even any need to take any biopsies. That was a huge relief.
The first test down, I had to wait three weeks for the second test. The prostate biopsy was the worst of all the tests and even the best case scenario meant I had to wait two weeks for the results. I was at the end of my rope emotionally. I had been worried now for weeks and I just wanted to know the answer. I wanted to know what I needed to do to make things better....but all I could do was wait.
So I made it through the test. If you can make it thorough your entire life without ever having a prostate biopsy try to do that. If you have to have one it's not the absolute worst thing in the world but I can think of 74 million things I would rather do. As it turned out my biopsy was on Brennis' birthday. I'm sure he was thrilled to spend his special day in a waiting room waiting for me. (If you can manage to schedule your prostate biopsy on a day other than your spouse's birthday do that too......the presents after that just seem insignificant and petty and nobody's really in the mood for cake).
I don't remember that the two weeks after the biopsy seemed to go particularly fast or slow. I did kind of expect someone to call me and tell me the results early but nobody ever did. I have a particularly annoying habit of trying to read things into the behavior of medical professionals (if they call it means.... If they don't call it means......). It turns out that generally you will find things out when they want to tell you. Not surprisingly, I found out my results in two weeks as they had originally told me.
Brennis went with me for the "results" appointment. He wasn't allowed to go back with me but he wanted to be with me just in case. They called me back at the time of my appointment (a rare thing as you know) and I went back to one of the exam rooms and waited. I waited. And waited. And waited. I think it must have been over twenty minutes that I sat in that room waiting for them to tell me the results of my test. I'm not exactly sure what caused the holdup but during that time I thought about everything that they could tell me about my biopsy. I planned for every possible outcome, my reaction, what I was going to tell Brennis, what I was going to tell my family, everything. I processed the moment that hadn't yet happened over and over again in my mind so much that when the doctor finally entered the room I was fairly calm. She could have told me anything and I would have known what to do. I had readied myself for anything.
The results were negative. They took twelve samples from my prostate and none of them had any signs of cancer. I was numb. In the preceding four months I had had blood work, a chest x-ray, a stress test, a colonoscopy and a prostate biopsy. Nothing was wrong. I couldn't imagine anything else that they could have tested for to find that anything could be wrong. Yes, I was still having the original symptoms that brought me to the doctor in the first place but it was clear to me now that there was nothing serious causing them. There was nothing that was so huge or so scary that it was showing up on any test. I could live with that and it was becoming clear to me now that I was indeed going to live.....and quite possibly for a long time.
That was the moment it happened. That was the moment I knew that everything that I had been through had all happened for a reason. It was meant to be and I knew it. I had to go through all of this to appreciate my life....to really appreciate being alive. I had spent so much of my life assuming that I wasn't going to live to a ripe old age and now.....now it was possible that I might just do that. I think I felt a little bit like Chance felt that day at the pound. I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be and going through exactly what I was supposed to be going through for a reason. I wasn't sure what the reason was....I just knew that this moment was supposed to happen so I could find peace....just like Chance was able to find peace when he saw us for the first time. What was to happen next I didn't know. What I did know for certain was that every step I took after this day was going to be with a different purpose. I needed to start living and start honoring the life I had been given. It was no longer enough to just be in my life....I needed to be active in creating my life moment by moment.
Just like Chance leaving the pound that day with his new owners, I left the exam room that day uncertain of what future lay before me. I walked out the door into the waiting room to see Brennis' worried face and I was able to mouth to him, "I'm okay." That was my first moment of being alive again. It felt good. I planned on making a lot more moments like that happen in the future.
As it turns out we don't really need to go through some traumatic life event to figure out that we are alive and need to start acting that way. Once I was let out of my cage I ran and jumped and started loving and playing again. I was free and nobody could stop me ever again....not even myself. I didn't care if I lived a week or another hundred years. If I was going to be alive then I was going to live. There was never any reason not to and I had wasted too much time already.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
Moving On
After passing my stress test I was absolutely thrilled. I finally had the answer to the question that had been hanging over my head for my adult life: I did not have coronary artery disease! After that sank in I was looking forward to going back to my doctor for my stress test follow up.
When I got there we went over my stress test results and I not only passed but passed with flying colors. My heart was as healthy as a 45 year old heart should be. They even gave me a copy of the results which I read later (not that I knew more than 10% of what I was reading but I was certain that it was all just riveting for some medical tech.)
So I was healthy. The doctor said so. That lasted for about 45 seconds.
Then the nurse came in with the results of my lab work. I had blood in my fecal occult blood test (blood in my stool) and my PSA (prostate test) level was elevated and my prostate was enlarged. I was going to have to go for more tests.....a colonsocopy and a prostate biopsy. They were testing for cancer. Suddenly my miraculous stress test seemed much less important.
I sat on the paper covered plastic table and wanted to cry. I didn't. I don't think the nurse would have gotten why I was crying. She was pleasant enough but she didn't seem particularly invested in my emotional well being.
I left the doctor's office and drove back to work. I had gone to the appointment alone and now felt very alone. I got back to work and told Brennis the news. We both realized that there was probably nothing to be worried about but because I was having symptoms and because they were testing me for not one but two cancers we were more than a little concerned.
It was December, just before Christmas. I wouldn't be able to get in for the tests until after the New Year so I just decided I wasn't going to let it ruin my holiday. There was nothing I could do about it anyway and worrying wasn't going to make anything any better so I just tried to put it out of my mind.
Brennis and I always had wonderful arrangements with our families around the holidays. Christmas was no exception. We always spent Christmas Eve with my family and Christmas Day with his family. Both days were so much fun at both places and I always loved being able to spend time with everyone. This year my parents were in the process of selling our family home.....the house I grew up in.....so we knew that this would be our last Christmas there. Strangely enough I wasn't feeling at all emotional about it. Now, I get emotional when someone walking down the sidewalk gets the "Don't Walk" sign so I wasn't sure why this monumental life event wasn't registering on my emotional radar.
The more I thought about it I realized that during Brennis' hospitalization I became much less attached to things. The second we stepped into the emergency room that day I stopped caring about my house, my car, my business. All of my attention was on doing anything in my power to get Brennis better. All of my earthly attachments disappeared. Now, six months later, I think I was still feeling some of that energy. I still had my family and I was still able to spend time with them while I knew that many of my friends were not. The place where we celebrated our holidays together was not as important as the fact that we were all still able to celebrate them together. The house was just a house. Sure it was a wonderful home and we all have some wonderful memories of growing up there and many milestones achieved while we were there but it was not the memory....it was merely the stage. I still had my memories and thankfully I still had my family. Soon, hopefully another family will be able to live there and create new memories of their own.
I looked around the house that Christmas Eve trying to conjure up some kind of false nostalgia and was unable. I realized that every moment I tried to feel badly about not being in the house again was taking me away from time with the very real people who I loved so much. I was trying to create an emptiness in the midst of fullness. With my own medical issues hanging over my head I knew how fleeting our time together can be. I felt fine but I knew it could be our last Christmas together as a family. Any one of us might not be here next year. Brennis' heart attack taught me that. I decided to experience what was happening rather than wonder about how I was supposed to feel about something that was going to happen. It felt a lot like living.
Christmas with my family is always magical. Sure there are stresses and sometimes we have conflicts like every family has but there is something so beautiful about the tradition and the love and the thoughtfulness that I am able to experience when we are together at Christmas. As we've all gotten older some traditions have faded away and others have taken their place. We adapt and we adjust but the undercurrent of the love that we all feel for each other brings a sense of continuity that is joyful and profound for me.
I knew that being in a new place next year would just be another one of those adjustments. Being in the old house this year just made it more special to me and it was a reminder to always, always appreciate the amazing, beautiful things that happen in your life. We don't get them as often as we would like and they are fleeting when we do get them. Hold on to them before they vanish. Pay attention to them and allow them to linger if you are able. Close your eyes and let them fill you. These are the moments we live for.
It was the last Christmas in my family home. It might be my last Christmas before I knew I had cancer. It might be my last Christmas with my family. Wondering about what was to come for me was useless. Worrying was even more futile. In two months I would know the answers to my questions and I would deal with those answers and move on. It's what we do. Allowing the past to keep us from moving forward to our future is just as foolish as allowing our futures to keep us from living in the present. I had no idea what I would find out At that moment it wasn't up to me.....so I just lived.
It turned out it was one of the best Christmas Eves of my life. I didn't have to be sad that this was our last Christmas in this house. I didn't have to be anxious that I might be ill. I just had to be there and because I was there I remember it so vividly and I am now able to re-live that Christmas Eve over and over again. That, it turns out, was my favorite gift last year. Whatever might happen next was for another year.....and I wasn't there yet.
When I got there we went over my stress test results and I not only passed but passed with flying colors. My heart was as healthy as a 45 year old heart should be. They even gave me a copy of the results which I read later (not that I knew more than 10% of what I was reading but I was certain that it was all just riveting for some medical tech.)
So I was healthy. The doctor said so. That lasted for about 45 seconds.
Then the nurse came in with the results of my lab work. I had blood in my fecal occult blood test (blood in my stool) and my PSA (prostate test) level was elevated and my prostate was enlarged. I was going to have to go for more tests.....a colonsocopy and a prostate biopsy. They were testing for cancer. Suddenly my miraculous stress test seemed much less important.
I sat on the paper covered plastic table and wanted to cry. I didn't. I don't think the nurse would have gotten why I was crying. She was pleasant enough but she didn't seem particularly invested in my emotional well being.
I left the doctor's office and drove back to work. I had gone to the appointment alone and now felt very alone. I got back to work and told Brennis the news. We both realized that there was probably nothing to be worried about but because I was having symptoms and because they were testing me for not one but two cancers we were more than a little concerned.
It was December, just before Christmas. I wouldn't be able to get in for the tests until after the New Year so I just decided I wasn't going to let it ruin my holiday. There was nothing I could do about it anyway and worrying wasn't going to make anything any better so I just tried to put it out of my mind.
Brennis and I always had wonderful arrangements with our families around the holidays. Christmas was no exception. We always spent Christmas Eve with my family and Christmas Day with his family. Both days were so much fun at both places and I always loved being able to spend time with everyone. This year my parents were in the process of selling our family home.....the house I grew up in.....so we knew that this would be our last Christmas there. Strangely enough I wasn't feeling at all emotional about it. Now, I get emotional when someone walking down the sidewalk gets the "Don't Walk" sign so I wasn't sure why this monumental life event wasn't registering on my emotional radar.
The more I thought about it I realized that during Brennis' hospitalization I became much less attached to things. The second we stepped into the emergency room that day I stopped caring about my house, my car, my business. All of my attention was on doing anything in my power to get Brennis better. All of my earthly attachments disappeared. Now, six months later, I think I was still feeling some of that energy. I still had my family and I was still able to spend time with them while I knew that many of my friends were not. The place where we celebrated our holidays together was not as important as the fact that we were all still able to celebrate them together. The house was just a house. Sure it was a wonderful home and we all have some wonderful memories of growing up there and many milestones achieved while we were there but it was not the memory....it was merely the stage. I still had my memories and thankfully I still had my family. Soon, hopefully another family will be able to live there and create new memories of their own.
I looked around the house that Christmas Eve trying to conjure up some kind of false nostalgia and was unable. I realized that every moment I tried to feel badly about not being in the house again was taking me away from time with the very real people who I loved so much. I was trying to create an emptiness in the midst of fullness. With my own medical issues hanging over my head I knew how fleeting our time together can be. I felt fine but I knew it could be our last Christmas together as a family. Any one of us might not be here next year. Brennis' heart attack taught me that. I decided to experience what was happening rather than wonder about how I was supposed to feel about something that was going to happen. It felt a lot like living.
Christmas with my family is always magical. Sure there are stresses and sometimes we have conflicts like every family has but there is something so beautiful about the tradition and the love and the thoughtfulness that I am able to experience when we are together at Christmas. As we've all gotten older some traditions have faded away and others have taken their place. We adapt and we adjust but the undercurrent of the love that we all feel for each other brings a sense of continuity that is joyful and profound for me.
I knew that being in a new place next year would just be another one of those adjustments. Being in the old house this year just made it more special to me and it was a reminder to always, always appreciate the amazing, beautiful things that happen in your life. We don't get them as often as we would like and they are fleeting when we do get them. Hold on to them before they vanish. Pay attention to them and allow them to linger if you are able. Close your eyes and let them fill you. These are the moments we live for.
It was the last Christmas in my family home. It might be my last Christmas before I knew I had cancer. It might be my last Christmas with my family. Wondering about what was to come for me was useless. Worrying was even more futile. In two months I would know the answers to my questions and I would deal with those answers and move on. It's what we do. Allowing the past to keep us from moving forward to our future is just as foolish as allowing our futures to keep us from living in the present. I had no idea what I would find out At that moment it wasn't up to me.....so I just lived.
It turned out it was one of the best Christmas Eves of my life. I didn't have to be sad that this was our last Christmas in this house. I didn't have to be anxious that I might be ill. I just had to be there and because I was there I remember it so vividly and I am now able to re-live that Christmas Eve over and over again. That, it turns out, was my favorite gift last year. Whatever might happen next was for another year.....and I wasn't there yet.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
The Right Size
I'll be honest. I don't know exactly when I became this person. I used to eat Chef Boyardee Spaghetti right out of the can and now I am buying organic whole wheat flour and agave nectar. The transition, in fact, happened so gradually that I hardly even noticed it. It was, however, a huge transition....a transition I am glad I made but one that evolved over time based on many factors.
I have been on some kind of a "diet" almost all of my life (except for the frequent, random binges of things like Chef Boyardee Spaghetti right out of the can). While I haven't always been overweight I have always struggled with my weight and my eating habits. Being a compulsive over eater I am constantly battling the part of me that wants to binge on food until I am literally sick. Compulsive over eating is difficult to understand. While there is the euphoria and satisfaction initially during binge eating there is always..always a feeling of sickness afterward both mental and physical. There is, of course, the stomach ache and a whole host of other unpleasant physical symptoms (think post Thanksgiving dinner times ten) but there is also always the self hatred and disappointment that accompanies those physical pains. "You're a failure". "Well, you did it again!" "You'll never be thin." It certainly doesn't follow the Pavlovian pattern of doing things because they cause us pleasure but it happened regularly nonetheless.
I don't need to get into why this is an issue for me. To be honest I don't really care. It might be psychological or it might be physical....whatever the causation it is real and I have it. That's really all I need to know. I have it and I don't want it. So how do I go about stopping it?
For me it was about controlling what I eat and when I eat. It was about limiting or eliminating foods that I found triggered my binge eating (sugar and salt for me) and eating smaller, more frequent meals so I never felt that I was depriving myself. It was also about being more active. When you're sitting on the couch watching TV it's easy to get up and grab a bag of chips to snack on. It's not so easy to do that when you're out taking a walk or working on your favorite hobby. Part of my problem is that one of my favorite things to do is cook and bake. Running my own business I rarely get to experience the joy of a task that has a beginning and end. Everything about running a business is about the process. In cooking and baking there is a beginning and an end....and the end is also rewarding which is another reason why I love it.
The problematic side-effect of having cooking and baking as your hobby is all of the tempting food that is there when you are done. My old philosophy on cooking was: "If it doesn't taste good enough add butter or top it with sour cream". Not surprisingly, that worked. It also, probably played a part in causing Brennis' choked arteries. I didn't really feel that I would ever again be comfortable baking and cooking for our household. I felt like I had been negligent with our health because I was trying to please everyone by making delicious but unhealthy food. Sometimes I joked that my cooking almost killed Brennis. Sometimes I didn't think it was a joke. Most of the time I didn't think it was funny.
Turning my hobby into something positive was part of the battle. Making great tasting healthy food isn't difficult really. It just required me to un-learn many of the things I thought I knew about food. Of course adding butter (or salt or sugar) and topping it with sour cream (or whipped cream or cheese) makes food taste better....these are great tasting things and believe it or not I still eat them occasionally. Making things taste great without these things (and a whole host of other ingredients) has been a challenge I have enjoyed taking on and has made my "hobby" of cooking much more fun. Now it is about the challenge and about the physical activity of cooking and baking...not just about slapping icing on something. I love to cook now because it's exciting and keeps me busy and away from the cheap, unhealthy snacks. It exercises my mind and my body.
It takes energy to cook delicious, healthy foods and that's a good thing. I understand that we are all living busy over scheduled lives and that a lot of us have kids or other people that we take care of and it's just too difficult sometimes to think about chopping vegetables or dragging out the food processor. It happens....sometimes life gets away from us. Take a look at your life. When do you overeat? What are your triggers? Do you have a block of time during the week when you can cook ahead and have healthy food already prepared? Are the people around you supportive of you? You have to start from a place of strength and having an understanding of your issues to give you that strength.
Understanding where you are at this moment....what has caused you to be overweight (or to struggle with your weight) in the first place....is the best starting point. Really analyzing your relationship with food and your relationship with exercise is the first step. You don't have to go through years of analysis to figure it out. You already know the answer. Make the sacrifices you are willing to make. Change the things about your life that don't give you pleasure. Be kind to yourself and be honest with yourself. Until you are able to do these things, honestly, you will not be able to lose weight and keep it off.
There is no "one size fits all" approach to losing weight. Every person is going to do it differently but everyone needs to start by trying to determine what is right for them and it's likely that the process of figuring that out is going to evolve over time (I am still tweaking my diet every time I find something that isn't working for me). This is not a task, it's a journey...a journey that likely will last the rest of your life. It doesn't end when you lose the weight but it does get better as you begin to really understand and appreciate your relationship with food. No matter how you got to where you are now the road forward is not and should not be one that is unfamiliar. You don't have to make big changes overnight. Let go of the unhealthy things slowly and that will allow you to bring more healthy things into your life. Learn from your past mistakes but don't let them derail your progress. You can choose to go back at any time but it won't get you to your destination. Just because you pause on your path doesn't mean the road is closed.
Losing weight is hard for a lot of people. It's never impossible. Losing weight and keeping it off is even harder...but it is worth it.
I'm not sure exactly when I became this person but I'm glad I did. I wouldn't change me for all of the canned spaghetti in the world.
I have been on some kind of a "diet" almost all of my life (except for the frequent, random binges of things like Chef Boyardee Spaghetti right out of the can). While I haven't always been overweight I have always struggled with my weight and my eating habits. Being a compulsive over eater I am constantly battling the part of me that wants to binge on food until I am literally sick. Compulsive over eating is difficult to understand. While there is the euphoria and satisfaction initially during binge eating there is always..always a feeling of sickness afterward both mental and physical. There is, of course, the stomach ache and a whole host of other unpleasant physical symptoms (think post Thanksgiving dinner times ten) but there is also always the self hatred and disappointment that accompanies those physical pains. "You're a failure". "Well, you did it again!" "You'll never be thin." It certainly doesn't follow the Pavlovian pattern of doing things because they cause us pleasure but it happened regularly nonetheless.
I don't need to get into why this is an issue for me. To be honest I don't really care. It might be psychological or it might be physical....whatever the causation it is real and I have it. That's really all I need to know. I have it and I don't want it. So how do I go about stopping it?
For me it was about controlling what I eat and when I eat. It was about limiting or eliminating foods that I found triggered my binge eating (sugar and salt for me) and eating smaller, more frequent meals so I never felt that I was depriving myself. It was also about being more active. When you're sitting on the couch watching TV it's easy to get up and grab a bag of chips to snack on. It's not so easy to do that when you're out taking a walk or working on your favorite hobby. Part of my problem is that one of my favorite things to do is cook and bake. Running my own business I rarely get to experience the joy of a task that has a beginning and end. Everything about running a business is about the process. In cooking and baking there is a beginning and an end....and the end is also rewarding which is another reason why I love it.
The problematic side-effect of having cooking and baking as your hobby is all of the tempting food that is there when you are done. My old philosophy on cooking was: "If it doesn't taste good enough add butter or top it with sour cream". Not surprisingly, that worked. It also, probably played a part in causing Brennis' choked arteries. I didn't really feel that I would ever again be comfortable baking and cooking for our household. I felt like I had been negligent with our health because I was trying to please everyone by making delicious but unhealthy food. Sometimes I joked that my cooking almost killed Brennis. Sometimes I didn't think it was a joke. Most of the time I didn't think it was funny.
Turning my hobby into something positive was part of the battle. Making great tasting healthy food isn't difficult really. It just required me to un-learn many of the things I thought I knew about food. Of course adding butter (or salt or sugar) and topping it with sour cream (or whipped cream or cheese) makes food taste better....these are great tasting things and believe it or not I still eat them occasionally. Making things taste great without these things (and a whole host of other ingredients) has been a challenge I have enjoyed taking on and has made my "hobby" of cooking much more fun. Now it is about the challenge and about the physical activity of cooking and baking...not just about slapping icing on something. I love to cook now because it's exciting and keeps me busy and away from the cheap, unhealthy snacks. It exercises my mind and my body.
It takes energy to cook delicious, healthy foods and that's a good thing. I understand that we are all living busy over scheduled lives and that a lot of us have kids or other people that we take care of and it's just too difficult sometimes to think about chopping vegetables or dragging out the food processor. It happens....sometimes life gets away from us. Take a look at your life. When do you overeat? What are your triggers? Do you have a block of time during the week when you can cook ahead and have healthy food already prepared? Are the people around you supportive of you? You have to start from a place of strength and having an understanding of your issues to give you that strength.
Understanding where you are at this moment....what has caused you to be overweight (or to struggle with your weight) in the first place....is the best starting point. Really analyzing your relationship with food and your relationship with exercise is the first step. You don't have to go through years of analysis to figure it out. You already know the answer. Make the sacrifices you are willing to make. Change the things about your life that don't give you pleasure. Be kind to yourself and be honest with yourself. Until you are able to do these things, honestly, you will not be able to lose weight and keep it off.
There is no "one size fits all" approach to losing weight. Every person is going to do it differently but everyone needs to start by trying to determine what is right for them and it's likely that the process of figuring that out is going to evolve over time (I am still tweaking my diet every time I find something that isn't working for me). This is not a task, it's a journey...a journey that likely will last the rest of your life. It doesn't end when you lose the weight but it does get better as you begin to really understand and appreciate your relationship with food. No matter how you got to where you are now the road forward is not and should not be one that is unfamiliar. You don't have to make big changes overnight. Let go of the unhealthy things slowly and that will allow you to bring more healthy things into your life. Learn from your past mistakes but don't let them derail your progress. You can choose to go back at any time but it won't get you to your destination. Just because you pause on your path doesn't mean the road is closed.
Losing weight is hard for a lot of people. It's never impossible. Losing weight and keeping it off is even harder...but it is worth it.
I'm not sure exactly when I became this person but I'm glad I did. I wouldn't change me for all of the canned spaghetti in the world.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
The Other Shoe
Summer was over. We had begun to settle into a nice calm autumn. It was a quiet time at work as we began to think about gearing up for the holiday season and Brennis was getting outstanding reports from all of his doctors and surgeons. We were happy. I, however, had a secret that was keeping me up at night.
About two years before Brennis' heart attack I had started having chest pains. They weren't the crushing chest pains that people describe when they are having a heart attack but they were burning, tightening sensations in my chest that almost always radiated down my left arm and up into my jaw. Before Brennis' incident I had always thought that heart attacks are either very dramatic or fatal. I didn't know they could be subtle like Brennis'. He never even had chest pain, after all. His heart attack manifested itself as a pain in his back. I had these pains fairly regularly at least once every other week. Every time it happened I waited for them to get worse but they never reached a point where I thought I should go to the hospital.
I know now that I should have gone to the hospital after the very first pain. Heart attacks can take many forms and have any number of specific or non-specific symptoms. I know that now. I didn't know that then and I didn't have insurance so I waited it out. I didn't die so I thought I was okay. That's not a particularly good plan but thankfully it worked for me for a while.
The pains continued throughout Brennis' time in the hospital and through his recovery. He was aware of them but we both quietly tried to ignore them as much as we could because we were afraid of what might happen if we went to the hospital. Neither one of us was prepared to go through this all over again. This is what denial feels like.
In October I began to have other symptoms. I was getting up to go the the bathroom five to six times a night and was going to the bathroom up to twenty times a day. I was in my mid forties and I knew that this is the time men start having problems with their health and between the chest pains and the frequent trips to the bathroom I knew that it was my turn to grow up and go to the doctor.
I made an appointment and three weeks later I went to the doctor. I was assuming that it would be simple...an enlarged prostate, bladder infection, heartburn....something I could take care of....something temporary and treatable. Within about ten minutes I knew I was wrong.
The doctor was concerned about my chest pains and my blood pressure was high. Because of my symptoms and my family history the doctor prescribed a stress test for me. I was numb. I was afraid. I would be going back to the hospital that Brennis just left. I was certain that they were going to find something wrong. I wasn't sure how I had managed to avoid any serious health problems up until that point but I knew now that it was my day of reckoning.
The doctor also made an appointment for me at a urologist since my prostate was slightly enlarged and that might have been causing my frequent trips to the bathroom. I was falling apart, obviously.
The first test was the stress test. It was scheduled for early the following week. I think I must have spent those few days in a fog. There were many possibilities. I could have a successful test and go home, they might send me home and find something wrong as they read the test results in the following days or I might have some indication during the test that something might be wrong. I was so afraid and so certain that there was going to be something wrong....not because I like to worry (although I do) but because of my symptoms, my family history and my previously less than stellar diet, exercise and smoking habits.
Quietly I got my life in order. I hated that Brennis was going to have to be the one to go with me for this test after everything he had gone through a few months before. I wish it didn't have to happen but I was thankful that I was going to find out what was wrong with me before something more serious happened. In the days before the test I made sure I was caught up on all of the bills, the laundry and even made extra dinners for Brennis in case I wasn't able to be there for some reason. I even made a list of all of our accounts and passwords and put it in my wallet in case the worst happened so Brennis could take care of things after I was gone.
This was all very dramatic, I know....but I had just been through Brennis' open heart surgery so I was fairly well primed for drama. I also, honestly, wanted to be prepared. The surprise of Brennis' heart attack has never left me. I am constantly on guard for what might happen next. I don't let it rule my life but I am always ready in case I need to be.
The day of the test came and I passed the test successfully. In the days following I waited for a call from the hospital telling me that something was wrong. They never called. I finally called my doctor's office for the results and they told me everything was normal. I was shocked. I can't even say I was necessarily relieved since I had never even entertained the possibility that nothing would be wrong. After that news sank in I realized that I was being given another chance. I had abused my body in many ways throughout the years and yet whatever I had done had not yet damaged my body enough to require repairs.
I think in many ways I had given up on myself. I had always had horrible eating habits and I began smoking when I was 18. I think I assumed that I was heading down the same road as my grandfather and father and was just destined to have heart disease at an early age. I never thought I would live to a ripe old age. That was not even a consideration of mine. I spent most of my forties wondering when I would have a heart attack.....not if I was going to have a heart attack.
Now I know that that is no way to live your life. It was foolish and that kind of thinking caused me to waste a lot of time and to make a lot of bad decisions about my health and those decisions affected everything about my life. When I realized that I was alright everything about my life and the way I thought about my life changed. This was probably, in the long run, an even more important event for me than the shock of Brennis' heart attack. Everything I had assumed about my life was wrong. Now to go about the business of changing it all...making amends and moving forward.
Your life is exactly what you think it is....but it doesn't have to be. All it takes is changing your perspective. Thinking that my life was going to be short made me live my life a certain way. Now that I know that it will likely be longer than I thought I live in a different way. Nothing really changed about me but my perception of my life.
The same is true of every aspect of your life. The way you think about something is the way it is for you. The way you think about your spouse is they way they are. The way you think about your job is the way it is. If you can simply change the way you think about these things they can become different things for you. You are never trapped by anything or anyone except yourself. There is nothing stopping you right now from getting up out of your seat, walking out the door and away from the life you are currently living. Is there? Why do you stay?
There are reasons you are in the life you are living. Find the power within yourself to make it the life you imagine it can be. If you want it to be tomorrow can be different....and nothing has to change but you.
About two years before Brennis' heart attack I had started having chest pains. They weren't the crushing chest pains that people describe when they are having a heart attack but they were burning, tightening sensations in my chest that almost always radiated down my left arm and up into my jaw. Before Brennis' incident I had always thought that heart attacks are either very dramatic or fatal. I didn't know they could be subtle like Brennis'. He never even had chest pain, after all. His heart attack manifested itself as a pain in his back. I had these pains fairly regularly at least once every other week. Every time it happened I waited for them to get worse but they never reached a point where I thought I should go to the hospital.
I know now that I should have gone to the hospital after the very first pain. Heart attacks can take many forms and have any number of specific or non-specific symptoms. I know that now. I didn't know that then and I didn't have insurance so I waited it out. I didn't die so I thought I was okay. That's not a particularly good plan but thankfully it worked for me for a while.
The pains continued throughout Brennis' time in the hospital and through his recovery. He was aware of them but we both quietly tried to ignore them as much as we could because we were afraid of what might happen if we went to the hospital. Neither one of us was prepared to go through this all over again. This is what denial feels like.
In October I began to have other symptoms. I was getting up to go the the bathroom five to six times a night and was going to the bathroom up to twenty times a day. I was in my mid forties and I knew that this is the time men start having problems with their health and between the chest pains and the frequent trips to the bathroom I knew that it was my turn to grow up and go to the doctor.
I made an appointment and three weeks later I went to the doctor. I was assuming that it would be simple...an enlarged prostate, bladder infection, heartburn....something I could take care of....something temporary and treatable. Within about ten minutes I knew I was wrong.
The doctor was concerned about my chest pains and my blood pressure was high. Because of my symptoms and my family history the doctor prescribed a stress test for me. I was numb. I was afraid. I would be going back to the hospital that Brennis just left. I was certain that they were going to find something wrong. I wasn't sure how I had managed to avoid any serious health problems up until that point but I knew now that it was my day of reckoning.
The doctor also made an appointment for me at a urologist since my prostate was slightly enlarged and that might have been causing my frequent trips to the bathroom. I was falling apart, obviously.
The first test was the stress test. It was scheduled for early the following week. I think I must have spent those few days in a fog. There were many possibilities. I could have a successful test and go home, they might send me home and find something wrong as they read the test results in the following days or I might have some indication during the test that something might be wrong. I was so afraid and so certain that there was going to be something wrong....not because I like to worry (although I do) but because of my symptoms, my family history and my previously less than stellar diet, exercise and smoking habits.
Quietly I got my life in order. I hated that Brennis was going to have to be the one to go with me for this test after everything he had gone through a few months before. I wish it didn't have to happen but I was thankful that I was going to find out what was wrong with me before something more serious happened. In the days before the test I made sure I was caught up on all of the bills, the laundry and even made extra dinners for Brennis in case I wasn't able to be there for some reason. I even made a list of all of our accounts and passwords and put it in my wallet in case the worst happened so Brennis could take care of things after I was gone.
This was all very dramatic, I know....but I had just been through Brennis' open heart surgery so I was fairly well primed for drama. I also, honestly, wanted to be prepared. The surprise of Brennis' heart attack has never left me. I am constantly on guard for what might happen next. I don't let it rule my life but I am always ready in case I need to be.
The day of the test came and I passed the test successfully. In the days following I waited for a call from the hospital telling me that something was wrong. They never called. I finally called my doctor's office for the results and they told me everything was normal. I was shocked. I can't even say I was necessarily relieved since I had never even entertained the possibility that nothing would be wrong. After that news sank in I realized that I was being given another chance. I had abused my body in many ways throughout the years and yet whatever I had done had not yet damaged my body enough to require repairs.
I think in many ways I had given up on myself. I had always had horrible eating habits and I began smoking when I was 18. I think I assumed that I was heading down the same road as my grandfather and father and was just destined to have heart disease at an early age. I never thought I would live to a ripe old age. That was not even a consideration of mine. I spent most of my forties wondering when I would have a heart attack.....not if I was going to have a heart attack.
Now I know that that is no way to live your life. It was foolish and that kind of thinking caused me to waste a lot of time and to make a lot of bad decisions about my health and those decisions affected everything about my life. When I realized that I was alright everything about my life and the way I thought about my life changed. This was probably, in the long run, an even more important event for me than the shock of Brennis' heart attack. Everything I had assumed about my life was wrong. Now to go about the business of changing it all...making amends and moving forward.
Your life is exactly what you think it is....but it doesn't have to be. All it takes is changing your perspective. Thinking that my life was going to be short made me live my life a certain way. Now that I know that it will likely be longer than I thought I live in a different way. Nothing really changed about me but my perception of my life.
The same is true of every aspect of your life. The way you think about something is the way it is for you. The way you think about your spouse is they way they are. The way you think about your job is the way it is. If you can simply change the way you think about these things they can become different things for you. You are never trapped by anything or anyone except yourself. There is nothing stopping you right now from getting up out of your seat, walking out the door and away from the life you are currently living. Is there? Why do you stay?
There are reasons you are in the life you are living. Find the power within yourself to make it the life you imagine it can be. If you want it to be tomorrow can be different....and nothing has to change but you.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Corn Tortillas
Once upon a time one of my biggest weaknesses was chips. Potato chips, tortilla chips and my favorite....Doritos. I was intimate with the chip.
As we all know, the problem with most chips is the fat added when we fry them in oil. As usual I have tried to replace the chip with something healthy that I can make myself so I know what is in them. Turns out I didn't have to look very far.
Corn tortillas have two ingredients. Masa Harina (corn flour) and Water. I like to add a third ingredient, baking soda, to give them a bit of a lift but that is optional. Masa Harina can be found in most large grocery stores in the mexican food section. The really tricky part for making homemade tortillas is finding a tortilla press. I looked in about a dozen stores (including larg kitchen and bath chain stores) and was disappointed. Finally a friend of mine bought me one in Cleveland at Sur La Table. You can easily get one online and save your gas money. If you pay more than $20.00 you've paid too much. Mine is a perfectly wonderful cast iron press that will literally last forever and it only cost $19.95.
Without a tortilla press you can roll out the tortilla dough between two sheets of wax paper but the tortilla press makes this effortless. I cut a large zipper plastic bag in half and press my tortillas in between the sheets of plastic in the press and they never stick.
Click HERE for the recipe....I just one with a layer of Slow Cooker Refried Beans topped with Black Eyed Pea Relish......Can't be beat!
Without a tortilla press you can roll out the tortilla dough between two sheets of wax paper but the tortilla press makes this effortless. I cut a large zipper plastic bag in half and press my tortillas in between the sheets of plastic in the press and they never stick.
Click HERE for the recipe....I just one with a layer of Slow Cooker Refried Beans topped with Black Eyed Pea Relish......Can't be beat!
Monday, July 9, 2012
Fat
I lost weight for a lot of reasons. I wanted to look good, I wanted to feel better, I wanted to be able to buy clothes in a regular store, I wanted to be able to see my feet. Simple things....but if you are overweight, getting to the place you want to be can certainly be a huge struggle.
One unintended consequence of losing weight, however, made me very concerned. I realized very early on after losing the weight that people actually treated the "thin" me better than they had treated the "fat" me. It wasn't that I was feeling more confident and people reacted to that. People just plain treated me better. They smiled at me, had conversations with me, treated me like I was.....one of them! I won't lie. It felt good but it was mostly very upsetting.
I began to look at the way I treat overweight people versus the way I treat thin people and I began to realize that I was somewhat guilty of the same treatment. Why? What makes us want to relate more with people who are thin than people who are overweight? Why were people treating thin Todd better than fat Todd?
I won't pretend that I know all of the reasons but it did give me some food for thought. We are all aware of racism. We understand that it is based on a false premise that people of certain races are fundamentally different from us. We understand that it is wrong but on some level we are all guilty from time to time of having a racist thought run through our minds. Part of the reason racism exists is because of fear. We tend to like to be around people who are like us so we feel comfortable and familiar. It's just easier and so it becomes our norm.
I think there is something similar going on with the way people sometimes treat overweight people. In this case, however, it is not so much about wanting to associate with people like us but rather associating with people who we want to be like. When I was overweight I felt like a failure. I felt like I was out of control and weak. Every time I saw a commercial for a new weight loss plan I got a knot in my stomach and quietly hated myself for not being thin. It's a horrible thing we do to ourselves. Other people can be cruel but sometimes we can be our own worst enemies. When I looked at other people who were overweight I identified with them but not in a good way. Seeing them reminded me of myself and it made me remember how much I disliked myself. It's not a rational or kind reaction but it was an honest one unfortunately.
It's not that I treated overweight people poorly. I certainly would never have done that. I guess, however, that I did judge them just as I judged myself. Being reminded of my own shortcomings was not something that I welcomed.
On the other hand I think I admired thin people so much that I probably treated them better. I wrongly assumed that if they could keep their weight "normal" they must be better than me.
Keep in mind that all of this was, of course, subconscious. I never actually had those thoughts but looking back it seems that this was the unspoken dialogue that affected how I treated other people.
Now being able to experience this from both sides I am shocked. I love that people treat me better but I am sad that being thin has become so important in our society that it affects how we treat people. I remember when a good friend of mine was talking to me about quitting drinking years ago. He kept asking me if I thought he was an alcoholic. I didn't know how to answer the question. How was I supposed to know? I told him that if he thought he was an alcoholic then he probably was. Only he could define what that meant to him. If he thought he had a problem then he had a problem. I was in no position to know what was going on in his head.
We have no way of knowing what is going on in peoples' lives unless they tell us (and even then we probably really don't know and probably shouldn't). If someone is sad and troubled about their weight and they ask us for help we should be there for them. Otherwise it's none of our concern. I am in no position to judge anyone for their weight any more than I should be judging them for the color of their skin or the kind of car they drive.
I was only able to begin the process of losing weight because I was able to accept and love myself the way I was. Starting from a place where you love yourself makes it so much easier to go about the business of loving and respecting your body enough to treat it the way it deserves to be treated. If we continue to judge people based on their weight we are not helping them to love themselves....we are perpetuating the stereotypes that made them hate themselves in the first place.
Once again, as with many things, this is about being conscious in your life and treating each moment, each interaction as a unique opportunity to learn and grow as human beings. If you are open to learning about the people you encounter during your day you will understand that everyone on this journey called life has their own story to tell....they have their reasons for doing things the way they do and they have their own faults and heartaches too. That's not just a fat person sitting across the table from you. That's someone who fears and loves and tries and is imperfect just like you. Give them the credit that you want for yourself. They deserve it and so do you.
One unintended consequence of losing weight, however, made me very concerned. I realized very early on after losing the weight that people actually treated the "thin" me better than they had treated the "fat" me. It wasn't that I was feeling more confident and people reacted to that. People just plain treated me better. They smiled at me, had conversations with me, treated me like I was.....one of them! I won't lie. It felt good but it was mostly very upsetting.
I began to look at the way I treat overweight people versus the way I treat thin people and I began to realize that I was somewhat guilty of the same treatment. Why? What makes us want to relate more with people who are thin than people who are overweight? Why were people treating thin Todd better than fat Todd?
I won't pretend that I know all of the reasons but it did give me some food for thought. We are all aware of racism. We understand that it is based on a false premise that people of certain races are fundamentally different from us. We understand that it is wrong but on some level we are all guilty from time to time of having a racist thought run through our minds. Part of the reason racism exists is because of fear. We tend to like to be around people who are like us so we feel comfortable and familiar. It's just easier and so it becomes our norm.
I think there is something similar going on with the way people sometimes treat overweight people. In this case, however, it is not so much about wanting to associate with people like us but rather associating with people who we want to be like. When I was overweight I felt like a failure. I felt like I was out of control and weak. Every time I saw a commercial for a new weight loss plan I got a knot in my stomach and quietly hated myself for not being thin. It's a horrible thing we do to ourselves. Other people can be cruel but sometimes we can be our own worst enemies. When I looked at other people who were overweight I identified with them but not in a good way. Seeing them reminded me of myself and it made me remember how much I disliked myself. It's not a rational or kind reaction but it was an honest one unfortunately.
It's not that I treated overweight people poorly. I certainly would never have done that. I guess, however, that I did judge them just as I judged myself. Being reminded of my own shortcomings was not something that I welcomed.
On the other hand I think I admired thin people so much that I probably treated them better. I wrongly assumed that if they could keep their weight "normal" they must be better than me.
Keep in mind that all of this was, of course, subconscious. I never actually had those thoughts but looking back it seems that this was the unspoken dialogue that affected how I treated other people.
Now being able to experience this from both sides I am shocked. I love that people treat me better but I am sad that being thin has become so important in our society that it affects how we treat people. I remember when a good friend of mine was talking to me about quitting drinking years ago. He kept asking me if I thought he was an alcoholic. I didn't know how to answer the question. How was I supposed to know? I told him that if he thought he was an alcoholic then he probably was. Only he could define what that meant to him. If he thought he had a problem then he had a problem. I was in no position to know what was going on in his head.
We have no way of knowing what is going on in peoples' lives unless they tell us (and even then we probably really don't know and probably shouldn't). If someone is sad and troubled about their weight and they ask us for help we should be there for them. Otherwise it's none of our concern. I am in no position to judge anyone for their weight any more than I should be judging them for the color of their skin or the kind of car they drive.
I was only able to begin the process of losing weight because I was able to accept and love myself the way I was. Starting from a place where you love yourself makes it so much easier to go about the business of loving and respecting your body enough to treat it the way it deserves to be treated. If we continue to judge people based on their weight we are not helping them to love themselves....we are perpetuating the stereotypes that made them hate themselves in the first place.
Once again, as with many things, this is about being conscious in your life and treating each moment, each interaction as a unique opportunity to learn and grow as human beings. If you are open to learning about the people you encounter during your day you will understand that everyone on this journey called life has their own story to tell....they have their reasons for doing things the way they do and they have their own faults and heartaches too. That's not just a fat person sitting across the table from you. That's someone who fears and loves and tries and is imperfect just like you. Give them the credit that you want for yourself. They deserve it and so do you.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Grilled Spaghetti Squash
I love grilling. There is something about the taste of food from the grill that appeals to me. Just because I don't eat meat doesn't mean that I can't still enjoy some great grilled foods.
About a month ago I was at the local health food store and bought an organic spaghetti squash because I knew Brennis loves the spaghetti squash my mom makes at Thanksgiving. I had probably prepared spaghetti squash years ago with lots of butter and salt but as I regarded this large yellow rock in my basket at The Raisin Rack I really had no idea what I was going to do with it.
It was a beautiful day so I thought I would grill it. I'll never make it any other way.
This one is so easy anyone can do it.
First I heated the grill (I used a gas grill and warmed it up to about 400 degrees.....you can use a charcoal grill and grill this at any temperature but cooking times will be different)
I halved the squash lengthwise and removed all of the seeds. The first time I grilled this I brushed the surface with olive oil but for today's squash I just left it alone and I didn't notice any difference in the taste.
Place the squash face down on the top rack of the grill (if you have one...if not just keep a close eye that it doesn't cook too fast on the surface)
Cover the grill and check it after about a half hour and then about every ten minutes afterward to see if it's done. The squash is done when you can easily puncture the outside skin with a fork (the fork will go in like you were poking the soft skin of a peach)
My squash took about 40 minutes.
When it's done it should look something like this.
Remove the squash from the grill and allow it to cool enough to be able to handle it.
With a fork, scoop out the inside of the squash (it will come out easily in long strands like spaghetti).
I eat it as a side dish with a bit of black pepper on top but it's also great as a main dish with your favorite tomato sauce.
This is extremely healthy and doesn't take a lot of effort. I was grilling zucchini and eggplant at the same time that the squash was cooking so the whole grill was filled with vegetables that I was using in recipes for the week so I wasn't wasting any propane just for one squash.
Try it before Summer's over!
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