Yesterday was the 7th of February. Which means one month ago I was going under the knife (technically 5 weeks ago).
I would say that this 5 weeks has been one of THE longest 5 weeks of my life. I should really go back and read my entries from surgery the first time around and I'd bet they weren't much different. But that feels like so long ago.
This surgery was not the easiest for me. I've had a lot of downs during the healing process. Not having to do with food or what I can eat, but mentally this has been a rough time. And a few physical things too. Every little twinge I have, I jump to the worst case scenario...and most of the time it's been nothing. I'm still trying to figure out what is going on with me that is making me react like this all of a sudden.
I've had a lot more "What if I didn't make the right decision?" this time around. I think because the recovery has been slower. I still haven't been able to get into the gym yet because of this abdominal muscle strain. I was in pain from the surgery but then last week slipped on the ice and really tweaked it good. Today is the first day it feels pretty good...I was able to actually bend over with minimal pain today. You never realize how much you actually use your abdominal muscles until they cause you pain...something as simple as getting off the couch or putting pants on was excrutiating this past week. I am hopeful I am on the upswing. I definitely don't want to reinjure it, so, although I am dying to hit the treadmill, I think I'm going to give myself at least one more week, if not two. It's going to be so hard, but I know in the long run, I will be better off.
In other news, I will tell you that what has gotten me through these past 5 weeks is my friends...people who listen to my crazy rantings and tell me logically why I'm not thinking clearly and talk me off the ledge. The other, and more important thing, is that I've really found my spirituality again. I'm normally not one to preach religion to others. Religion, to me, is a very special and private thing. I don't like to talk about it with many people because of that. I talk about it with my friend Tony and of course with Angie who is nice enough to spend every Sunday at church with me. Other than that, I really keep it to myself. But, I wouldn't have gotten through these 5 weeks without God. I've been praying to Him daily. Sometimes multiple times a day...just for health and for strength. I heard a sermon in the past couple weeks about the parable of Jesus walking on water to His disciples. And it says He walked on water towards them, in the middle of the rough storms, and He got in the boat, and all was calm. And the Pastor said we need to remember that no matter how rough the storms Jesus is always in our boat.
And that right there...is peace.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
The sleeve and me
In some ways, it feels like it's been a month instead of just over a week. That's been mostly due to the panic that has come along for the ride on this journey. For as prepared as I thought I was, I wasn't prepared for this. That's the thing about control. When you have control, everything is as fine as a summer breeze. When you are used to having control and you lose it...well that's a whole different ball game, isn't it?
In the grand scheme of things, this has been a very easy surgery for me. I've had little to no pain. I spent one night in the hospital. I'm eating. I'm drinking. I'm functioning.
I guess maybe I should turn this into two blog posts or this is going to be one GIANT post.
Let's start with surgery.
I had my surgery again at Columbia St Mary's on Monday Jan 7th. I'm not a fan of them. I think that hospital leaves a lot to be desired as far as the nursing staff goes. Other than the bariatric center, I wouldn't make it a choice to see any doctor there. A great and beautiful state of the art facility with a wonderful view, though. Cosmetically, if that's what you're looking for, it's great.
I arrived at the hospital at 7 where they admitted me and did all the questions about previous history and medication. The anasthesiolgist tech came in about 845 and I immediately started crying when I saw him. At one point, mom said there was still time to back out, and I briefly considered saying "You know what. Forget this. I don't know that it's worth it." He started my central line no problem, the doctor came to visit, and they wheeled me to the OR. They put the mask on me and I remember him saying "Just take a deep breath" and then I woke up in the recovery room. *I might get a little gross if you keep reading. Fair warning.
I was HOT. Like burning up. I remember telling the nurse I was in pain and that I was on fire. She gave me a dose of pain medicine I think? And got me a cold compress. I was super nauseated. I expected a little bit of nausea because anasthetic and I don't usually get along. I couldn't get over the nausea hump and* (stop reading if you aren't ready for a little bit of gross) I threw up. It was brown. Which led me to blood. I got real nervous because when people throw up blood after surgery it's not usually a good sign. The nurse in the recovery room told me it was just "old digestive material" and not to be concerned which eased my fears.
My room wasn't ready for HOURS. I didn't get back up to a real room until 3pm. Nils and mom were there waiting. I was terribly nauseated, kept throwing up and I said to the nurse "This is making me really nervous." She called the doctor and he said it was totally normal. They did take out part of my stomach and apparantly with this surgery there comes a lot more nausea and they just don't know why.
They prescribed me every nausea medicine known to man so I wouldn't go without and yet the nursing staff only came in when I called or when they heard me wretching so terribly that they probably couldn't stand it any longer. *disclaimer* I have many nurses in my family. It's a thankless job. However, I've had some great nurses and I've had some shitty nurses and I kiiiind of feel like this nurse wasn't great.
The rest of the night was more of the same. I had a panic attack when my husband left at 9pm, which bless his heart for even staying that long. They had prescribed me ativan for the panic attacks but I'm pretty sure that made me worse.
I felt better in the morning. Less nauseated. Doctor came and saw me and said I should probably stay another night and I told him that certainly wasn't happening and he said he'd check on me in the afternoon and we'd decide then.
Then my IV fell out.
I don't know. It just came out of my wrist. I am pretty sure it was as done with me as I was with it. I mean, could they have put it in a more awkward position on the inside of my wrist?
I told the nurse that I was planning on going home in the afternoon and to just give it a minute. If I could get my nausea under control and not vomit, then we didn't need to waste time putting another one in just to take it out again.
Luckily, the nausea had subsided. I went home about 3pm and it was glorious. I was still nauseated which didn't clear up until about that night, but it I wasn't vomitting and was so good to get some ACTUAL rest in my own bed.
I often wonder about that. Hospitals are the place you are supposed to get rest and get better and, yet, who actually gets any rest in a hospital?
Anyways. All was pretty normal until Friday night when I thought I was going to rip my skin off because it was itching so terribly. Turns out I had an allergic reaction to benzoin which is what they use to help the steri strips stick. Then I had an anxiety attack. I wasn't supposed to take the steri stips off...but the STERI STRIPS HAD TO COME OFF. I pulled them off and my skin was red and blistery around the incision sites and then I thought about what if the incisions got infected and then I thought about what if the wounds opened up and then I called and tweeted anyone in the medical profession that I knew and I was able to calm down a bit.
In case anyone is wondering, the use stitches to sew your incisions now a days so, like, even if I had pulled the steri strips off the day of surgery it probably wouldn't matter. Modern medicine. Who knew.
I forced the doctor to see me yesterday just to look at everything and he said everything looks fine. The incisions look great, the skin is getting better, and everyone lived happily ever after.
I'm at the point where I'm going the normal course of action that happens after you do something like this...the wondering if it was all worth it and if I made the right decision. My nurse told me that they just had a patient die this week from obesity related complications before she got to have bariatric surgery.
I've had two now. I'm pretty lucky. And it's a lot to put my body through, but I'm making a future for myself. I clearly am not able to do it without help.
Here's an animated video of what they did to me. It's not gross, I promise. It's like School House Rocks but with a stomach.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dl1w8bxItT0
In the grand scheme of things, this has been a very easy surgery for me. I've had little to no pain. I spent one night in the hospital. I'm eating. I'm drinking. I'm functioning.
I guess maybe I should turn this into two blog posts or this is going to be one GIANT post.
Let's start with surgery.
I had my surgery again at Columbia St Mary's on Monday Jan 7th. I'm not a fan of them. I think that hospital leaves a lot to be desired as far as the nursing staff goes. Other than the bariatric center, I wouldn't make it a choice to see any doctor there. A great and beautiful state of the art facility with a wonderful view, though. Cosmetically, if that's what you're looking for, it's great.
I arrived at the hospital at 7 where they admitted me and did all the questions about previous history and medication. The anasthesiolgist tech came in about 845 and I immediately started crying when I saw him. At one point, mom said there was still time to back out, and I briefly considered saying "You know what. Forget this. I don't know that it's worth it." He started my central line no problem, the doctor came to visit, and they wheeled me to the OR. They put the mask on me and I remember him saying "Just take a deep breath" and then I woke up in the recovery room. *I might get a little gross if you keep reading. Fair warning.
I was HOT. Like burning up. I remember telling the nurse I was in pain and that I was on fire. She gave me a dose of pain medicine I think? And got me a cold compress. I was super nauseated. I expected a little bit of nausea because anasthetic and I don't usually get along. I couldn't get over the nausea hump and* (stop reading if you aren't ready for a little bit of gross) I threw up. It was brown. Which led me to blood. I got real nervous because when people throw up blood after surgery it's not usually a good sign. The nurse in the recovery room told me it was just "old digestive material" and not to be concerned which eased my fears.
My room wasn't ready for HOURS. I didn't get back up to a real room until 3pm. Nils and mom were there waiting. I was terribly nauseated, kept throwing up and I said to the nurse "This is making me really nervous." She called the doctor and he said it was totally normal. They did take out part of my stomach and apparantly with this surgery there comes a lot more nausea and they just don't know why.
They prescribed me every nausea medicine known to man so I wouldn't go without and yet the nursing staff only came in when I called or when they heard me wretching so terribly that they probably couldn't stand it any longer. *disclaimer* I have many nurses in my family. It's a thankless job. However, I've had some great nurses and I've had some shitty nurses and I kiiiind of feel like this nurse wasn't great.
The rest of the night was more of the same. I had a panic attack when my husband left at 9pm, which bless his heart for even staying that long. They had prescribed me ativan for the panic attacks but I'm pretty sure that made me worse.
I felt better in the morning. Less nauseated. Doctor came and saw me and said I should probably stay another night and I told him that certainly wasn't happening and he said he'd check on me in the afternoon and we'd decide then.
Then my IV fell out.
I don't know. It just came out of my wrist. I am pretty sure it was as done with me as I was with it. I mean, could they have put it in a more awkward position on the inside of my wrist?
I told the nurse that I was planning on going home in the afternoon and to just give it a minute. If I could get my nausea under control and not vomit, then we didn't need to waste time putting another one in just to take it out again.
Luckily, the nausea had subsided. I went home about 3pm and it was glorious. I was still nauseated which didn't clear up until about that night, but it I wasn't vomitting and was so good to get some ACTUAL rest in my own bed.
I often wonder about that. Hospitals are the place you are supposed to get rest and get better and, yet, who actually gets any rest in a hospital?
Anyways. All was pretty normal until Friday night when I thought I was going to rip my skin off because it was itching so terribly. Turns out I had an allergic reaction to benzoin which is what they use to help the steri strips stick. Then I had an anxiety attack. I wasn't supposed to take the steri stips off...but the STERI STRIPS HAD TO COME OFF. I pulled them off and my skin was red and blistery around the incision sites and then I thought about what if the incisions got infected and then I thought about what if the wounds opened up and then I called and tweeted anyone in the medical profession that I knew and I was able to calm down a bit.
In case anyone is wondering, the use stitches to sew your incisions now a days so, like, even if I had pulled the steri strips off the day of surgery it probably wouldn't matter. Modern medicine. Who knew.
I forced the doctor to see me yesterday just to look at everything and he said everything looks fine. The incisions look great, the skin is getting better, and everyone lived happily ever after.
I'm at the point where I'm going the normal course of action that happens after you do something like this...the wondering if it was all worth it and if I made the right decision. My nurse told me that they just had a patient die this week from obesity related complications before she got to have bariatric surgery.
I've had two now. I'm pretty lucky. And it's a lot to put my body through, but I'm making a future for myself. I clearly am not able to do it without help.
Here's an animated video of what they did to me. It's not gross, I promise. It's like School House Rocks but with a stomach.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dl1w8bxItT0
Monday, December 3, 2012
Once upon a time in a NYC far away...
This post is overdue, but it's something that hasn't left my mind. Back in October my friend Angie and I went to NYC to a conference put on by our dear friend Krissy who wrote a book called How to Love an American Man. First of all, I can't recommend this book enough. Second of all, let's talk about how incredible it was to read this book, have the author skype in to our book club, and then have her become an amazing friend.
I knew the weekend was going to be an emotional roller coaster and I knew the weekend would bring some learning for me, but I didn't realize how much. I got to spend a day with a room full of educated and professional women who I respect. I spent the day with people from plus size models, to a beauty editor at a famous magazine, to other authors.
One of the things we talked about that day was the people we have in our lives and whether they add or detract from our happiness. It made me think of a lot of people in my life and a lot of people in the lives of people I interact with. The main concept was that these people in your life who detract from your happiness, not only do something as basic as that, but they also draw your energy away from the people who deserve it. Those people who are in your life that make you happy aren't getting reciprocal energy or love or attention from you because you're draining your energy on those in your life who just aren't doing much of anything for you. It seems like a simple concept and yet it was mind blowing to me.
It made me really conscious of people in my life who don't even bother to engage me, ask me questions, or pretend to even sound interested in the things in my life that are important to me right now. Which might sound selfish to you...and it IS. That's the point...it's about being a little selfish.
I know that's kind of heavy. So I'll leave that there for right now. Don't try to process that all now and apply it to your life. Just let it soak in for a little while and come back to it later to gather your lessons. Trust me on this.
I'll tell you some more about the fun we had in NYC to take your mind off of it. We stayed in Queens and took the subway everywhere. We had people ask us directions so obviously we looked like real New Yorkers. We strolled through Central Park and I pointed out all the places joggers were killed on Law and Order. (It happens!) We got to meet Krissy's lovely family and they warmed our hearts. Angie and I made our friendship bi-coastal this weekend as we had traveled to Napa together just a few months ago in July for Team Challenge. (I will need to blog about this later...that was a trip that needs it's own...my second half marathon and Angie's first in the books).
I got to see the Lincoln Tunnel and if any of you love the movie Elf, you'll understand that reference. I was able to meet two dear friends, Codie and Lisa, in person for the first time after being internet friends for years. We had dinner with Krissy at this wonderful little Italian restaurant in Brooklyn and spent the night sharing our lives and stories. We went to China Town and immediately regretted that decision. We ate mussels or oysters or something slimy. We got drunk on Park Avenue directly across from where the Kardashians lived while there, which basically makes us honorary Kardashians. Here are some pictures. New York really is my kind of town. Enjoy! I know I did.
One of the things we talked about that day was the people we have in our lives and whether they add or detract from our happiness. It made me think of a lot of people in my life and a lot of people in the lives of people I interact with. The main concept was that these people in your life who detract from your happiness, not only do something as basic as that, but they also draw your energy away from the people who deserve it. Those people who are in your life that make you happy aren't getting reciprocal energy or love or attention from you because you're draining your energy on those in your life who just aren't doing much of anything for you. It seems like a simple concept and yet it was mind blowing to me.
It made me really conscious of people in my life who don't even bother to engage me, ask me questions, or pretend to even sound interested in the things in my life that are important to me right now. Which might sound selfish to you...and it IS. That's the point...it's about being a little selfish.
I know that's kind of heavy. So I'll leave that there for right now. Don't try to process that all now and apply it to your life. Just let it soak in for a little while and come back to it later to gather your lessons. Trust me on this.
I'll tell you some more about the fun we had in NYC to take your mind off of it. We stayed in Queens and took the subway everywhere. We had people ask us directions so obviously we looked like real New Yorkers. We strolled through Central Park and I pointed out all the places joggers were killed on Law and Order. (It happens!) We got to meet Krissy's lovely family and they warmed our hearts. Angie and I made our friendship bi-coastal this weekend as we had traveled to Napa together just a few months ago in July for Team Challenge. (I will need to blog about this later...that was a trip that needs it's own...my second half marathon and Angie's first in the books).
I got to see the Lincoln Tunnel and if any of you love the movie Elf, you'll understand that reference. I was able to meet two dear friends, Codie and Lisa, in person for the first time after being internet friends for years. We had dinner with Krissy at this wonderful little Italian restaurant in Brooklyn and spent the night sharing our lives and stories. We went to China Town and immediately regretted that decision. We ate mussels or oysters or something slimy. We got drunk on Park Avenue directly across from where the Kardashians lived while there, which basically makes us honorary Kardashians. Here are some pictures. New York really is my kind of town. Enjoy! I know I did.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Second verse, same as the first
Who would have thought two years ago I would be sitting here writing about the same hopes and fears (mostly fears) I had the first time I went through this?
The first time I had surgery, I thought what if this fails? What if I fail? I also thought how on earth did you let yourself get to this point?
Tonight, as I prepare to go to work on Monday, I find myself thinking about what I'm going to wear. But not just about what I'm going to wear, but what is going to fit. A weight gain of 15 lbs is a full pants size and a lot on my frame. And I find myself thinking again, how on earth did you get here? I always knew I was going to have the "replacement" surgery. But I remember when I was sick last year due to the complication and I was at my lowest weight and I told myself I'd never be in this position again. And yet here I am...and how can I not consider myself a failure because of that?
To be honest, I know that weight wasn't real. I go back to my definition if insanity. The logic is there. I was losing weight because the piece of plastic they put inside me was eroding my stomach...I was sick! But what I wonder is why I couldn't be strong enough to not even gain an ounce of that weight back even though during this time I was training for my second half marathon?
The pain isn't what I'm worried about. The part about them removing a piece of my stomach isn't what I'm worried about. (Although it should be, I mean who does that? Just like, here I've got some excess stomach I just don't really feel is doing me any good, why don't you just take that and give it to all those poor people who don't have enough stomach).
I'm worried about failing. And that is the scariest of them all.
The first time I had surgery, I thought what if this fails? What if I fail? I also thought how on earth did you let yourself get to this point?
Tonight, as I prepare to go to work on Monday, I find myself thinking about what I'm going to wear. But not just about what I'm going to wear, but what is going to fit. A weight gain of 15 lbs is a full pants size and a lot on my frame. And I find myself thinking again, how on earth did you get here? I always knew I was going to have the "replacement" surgery. But I remember when I was sick last year due to the complication and I was at my lowest weight and I told myself I'd never be in this position again. And yet here I am...and how can I not consider myself a failure because of that?
To be honest, I know that weight wasn't real. I go back to my definition if insanity. The logic is there. I was losing weight because the piece of plastic they put inside me was eroding my stomach...I was sick! But what I wonder is why I couldn't be strong enough to not even gain an ounce of that weight back even though during this time I was training for my second half marathon?
The pain isn't what I'm worried about. The part about them removing a piece of my stomach isn't what I'm worried about. (Although it should be, I mean who does that? Just like, here I've got some excess stomach I just don't really feel is doing me any good, why don't you just take that and give it to all those poor people who don't have enough stomach).
I'm worried about failing. And that is the scariest of them all.
Friday, November 23, 2012
I'm posting so you know I feel angsty
Jan 7th is my new surgery date and it can't come soon enough.
I've gained about 20 lbs back since last November when my lapband was removed and I will tell you something. Even though I'm still 60lbs lighter I feel like I'm back to square one. The depths of hate for myself and my weight issue can't even be described here, which, speaks to a larger issue than just a weight problem I know. It also really pisses me off that I can't be smarter than this!
I spent a weekend in NY with some of the best and brightest women around. We discussed body image issues and society pressures and how we could love ourselves and yet I simply can't. I'm horrified at the thought that people see me daily. I exaggerate a lot and that is not an exaggeration. If I could hide in my house until my surgery was complete and I had confidence that I was going to start losing weight again I would. I base EVERYTHING on my weight. my happiness, my confidence, and clearly Ive never learned how to stop. The worst part of it all is that I KNOW how insane I'm being.
Maybe that's the definition of insanity. Being insane, knowing it, being conscious of it, and not being able to do anything about it?
Is it insane that when I talk to people I think they are thinking about how heavy I am? Yes. Is it insane that I compare myself to people I have no business comparing myself to? Yes. Do I do it and think it and continue to be conscious of how insane I'm being? Hell yes.
I'm not saying surgery will be a magic fix. It wasn't the first time around and it certainly wasn't easy. But it's a confidence boost to give me the power to be able to do what I need to do. Why j lack that without it, I don't know.
So, until Jan 7th, I'll be hiding in a dark corner over there, imagining I look like a hippopotamus and just being generally insane. If I start talking to some rope, please hang in there. In a few months, I'll be better.
I've gained about 20 lbs back since last November when my lapband was removed and I will tell you something. Even though I'm still 60lbs lighter I feel like I'm back to square one. The depths of hate for myself and my weight issue can't even be described here, which, speaks to a larger issue than just a weight problem I know. It also really pisses me off that I can't be smarter than this!
I spent a weekend in NY with some of the best and brightest women around. We discussed body image issues and society pressures and how we could love ourselves and yet I simply can't. I'm horrified at the thought that people see me daily. I exaggerate a lot and that is not an exaggeration. If I could hide in my house until my surgery was complete and I had confidence that I was going to start losing weight again I would. I base EVERYTHING on my weight. my happiness, my confidence, and clearly Ive never learned how to stop. The worst part of it all is that I KNOW how insane I'm being.
Maybe that's the definition of insanity. Being insane, knowing it, being conscious of it, and not being able to do anything about it?
Is it insane that when I talk to people I think they are thinking about how heavy I am? Yes. Is it insane that I compare myself to people I have no business comparing myself to? Yes. Do I do it and think it and continue to be conscious of how insane I'm being? Hell yes.
I'm not saying surgery will be a magic fix. It wasn't the first time around and it certainly wasn't easy. But it's a confidence boost to give me the power to be able to do what I need to do. Why j lack that without it, I don't know.
So, until Jan 7th, I'll be hiding in a dark corner over there, imagining I look like a hippopotamus and just being generally insane. If I start talking to some rope, please hang in there. In a few months, I'll be better.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Didn't think it could get worse....
But it did.
Just a few weeks ago, I wrote about Ellie. And how I lost her. And it wasn't fair. And now it's EXTRA not fair. I haven't even healed from Ellie and my heart is breaking all over again.
Last night, I couldn't find Christopher.
When I finally found him he was under the bed. His left leg was limp and he was breathing very heavily. I immediately took him to the Emergency Vet. They said he had saddle thrombosis...blood clots in both his legs that cut off the blood circulation to his legs. And this was due, most likely, to congestive heart failure, which can be virtually undetectable and can strike in an instant. And it did with Christopher. The vet said that he wouldn't regain use of his leg and there was nothing we could do for his heart...and that it would start to get very hard for him to breathe and the clots would start to cause some pain. (Sometimes, reading facts make me feel better, so I've included this)
And with that...I lost my second baby. We had to put him to rest so that he didn't suffer. And again, I held him while he took his last breath in my arms and told him how very loved he was. He was, for all purposes, the most mellow and LOVING cat you would have ever met. Give him a belly rub and he would be yours forever. He couldn't meow. He had a pitiful little squeak...almost like a soft honk that made me giggle every time he did it.
I told him how I loved all his snuggles and the time I spent every morning and every night with him, and the way he wrapped his paws around me in a never ending hug.
For both my kitties, 12 years and 13 years seem like such a long time....and yet, it IS NOT. It is a short, short time. I am not prepared for any of this.
I didn't think my heart could break into smaller pieces, but when it's already shattered, apparantly that's possible. Yes, my animals were so loved. And yes, they had a grand life. And yes, I have another kitty at home that I need to give all my love to. And yes, their lives were so much better with me in it. But, so was mine. Part of my life WAS them. And now that's gone. And now I have to sit here and wait for the pain to lessen again. With a larger piece of my life and my heart missing.
Just a few weeks ago, I wrote about Ellie. And how I lost her. And it wasn't fair. And now it's EXTRA not fair. I haven't even healed from Ellie and my heart is breaking all over again.
Last night, I couldn't find Christopher.
And with that...I lost my second baby. We had to put him to rest so that he didn't suffer. And again, I held him while he took his last breath in my arms and told him how very loved he was. He was, for all purposes, the most mellow and LOVING cat you would have ever met. Give him a belly rub and he would be yours forever. He couldn't meow. He had a pitiful little squeak...almost like a soft honk that made me giggle every time he did it.
I told him how I loved all his snuggles and the time I spent every morning and every night with him, and the way he wrapped his paws around me in a never ending hug.
For both my kitties, 12 years and 13 years seem like such a long time....and yet, it IS NOT. It is a short, short time. I am not prepared for any of this.
I didn't think my heart could break into smaller pieces, but when it's already shattered, apparantly that's possible. Yes, my animals were so loved. And yes, they had a grand life. And yes, I have another kitty at home that I need to give all my love to. And yes, their lives were so much better with me in it. But, so was mine. Part of my life WAS them. And now that's gone. And now I have to sit here and wait for the pain to lessen again. With a larger piece of my life and my heart missing.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Five Things
For those of you actually reading my blog, sorry about your luck. It's been chock full of nothing pleasant lately. I would be full of lies if I told you from here on out it was going to be rainbows and unicorns. (Except, how awesome would it be if I actually DID have a unicorn? You'd never believe me and then I'd show up at your house with my unicorn and yell at you to never doubt me again.)
Anyways. I wouldn't say I've overcome my sadness just yet. In fact, I might even say I've got a lot of anger boiling up right in this general vicinity right now.
Instead of talking about that though I'm making the choice to do something that is a little bit healthier for my mental state and talk about three things I am lucky for or am happy about. (Yeah so here's the thing about that title right up top. I thought maybe I should do five things, but I could really only come up with three. I mean, with all the things going on, you should really just give me a break.)
1) I was just offered a promotion at work. I will now have direct reports and it comes with a teeny bit of a raise. In the grand scheme of things, I've now gotten my second promotion within a year. Which means I'm pretty damn good at my job and I'm pretty damn awesome.
2) I have the most amazing friends. Friends who love me no matter what. Friends who don't judge me. I have two ladies in my life who let me be me whether it's good, bad or ugly.
Anyways. I wouldn't say I've overcome my sadness just yet. In fact, I might even say I've got a lot of anger boiling up right in this general vicinity right now.
Instead of talking about that though I'm making the choice to do something that is a little bit healthier for my mental state and talk about three things I am lucky for or am happy about. (Yeah so here's the thing about that title right up top. I thought maybe I should do five things, but I could really only come up with three. I mean, with all the things going on, you should really just give me a break.)
1) I was just offered a promotion at work. I will now have direct reports and it comes with a teeny bit of a raise. In the grand scheme of things, I've now gotten my second promotion within a year. Which means I'm pretty damn good at my job and I'm pretty damn awesome.
2) I have the most amazing friends. Friends who love me no matter what. Friends who don't judge me. I have two ladies in my life who let me be me whether it's good, bad or ugly.
True friends are the people who are there for you unconditionally. They are the people who never question you and support you no matter what the circumstances are. They are the people worth living for.
3) I have my health. In addition to my health, I'm getting healthier. I am blessed to be a part of Team Challenge where I am training for my second half marathon and I'm helping others by fundraising to find a cure. Donate Here
This is not only going to lead me to complete my second half marathon which is KIND of a big deal, but allow me to take my second trip to Napa with an amazing group of people and enjoy life.
Luckily, I have some really awesome people in my life to help me when I feel like everything has been turned upside down. So, in the end...I'll get through this. I always do.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Does it get easier?
Sort of.
On Monday, I wasn't sure I was going to live. Those of you without pets may never understand that statement. And that's ok with me.
On Tuesday, I was pretty sure I was going to live, but I wasn't sure how. And I cried a lot with people at work who understood.
On Wednesday, I fluctuated back and forth between being devistatingly sad and knowing I did the right thing. *(I need to come back to this).
On Thursday, I was doing pretty good. I miss her with every bit of me, but I knew she was better off.
Today, my tears have pretty much dried up. But I have kind of a hole inside. I'm a little numb. I'm kind of at the point where I'm not necessarily realizing this is real just yet. Or maybe I'm avoiding realizing this is real.
*On Wednesday, I got to spend some time with my friend Sue. Who helped me probably more than she realizes. She pointed out what a control freak I am. Which doesn't seem all that helpful on the surface, but let me explain.
I was having a really hard time with the guilt. While I know Ellie was really sick, I kept having these feelings of wishing there was something I could have done to keep her here with me and hoping Ellie wasn't somewhere wondering why I didn't. Which is illogical...because had the vet told me that there were some kind of possibility to save her, even if I had to go into debt for it, I would have done it.
Sue reminded me that this was all bigger than me. I want the control over the situation, but the reality of it is, I never had control in the first place.
And the other reality of it is, this happened exactly the way it needed to happen FOR ME.
I knew something wasn't right at the end of April. And I had a good month and a half to "prepare" myself. I knew inside that things weren't getting better. And even though I may not have realized it at the time, subconsciously I WAS preparing myself for it.
In addition, I had the opportunity to spend that time with her to love her and say good bye on Monday. God gave me that because He knew that had it happened the other way, where He just took her while I was at work, and I didn't have that time to say what I needed to say, it would have been more than I could bear.
So, long story short?
In the end, God was taking care of me. And He was taking care of Ellie. And I couldn't be more grateful for that OR for the people in my life who have continued to take care of me when I needed it the most this week.
On Monday, I wasn't sure I was going to live. Those of you without pets may never understand that statement. And that's ok with me.
On Tuesday, I was pretty sure I was going to live, but I wasn't sure how. And I cried a lot with people at work who understood.
On Wednesday, I fluctuated back and forth between being devistatingly sad and knowing I did the right thing. *(I need to come back to this).
On Thursday, I was doing pretty good. I miss her with every bit of me, but I knew she was better off.
Today, my tears have pretty much dried up. But I have kind of a hole inside. I'm a little numb. I'm kind of at the point where I'm not necessarily realizing this is real just yet. Or maybe I'm avoiding realizing this is real.
*On Wednesday, I got to spend some time with my friend Sue. Who helped me probably more than she realizes. She pointed out what a control freak I am. Which doesn't seem all that helpful on the surface, but let me explain.
I was having a really hard time with the guilt. While I know Ellie was really sick, I kept having these feelings of wishing there was something I could have done to keep her here with me and hoping Ellie wasn't somewhere wondering why I didn't. Which is illogical...because had the vet told me that there were some kind of possibility to save her, even if I had to go into debt for it, I would have done it.
Sue reminded me that this was all bigger than me. I want the control over the situation, but the reality of it is, I never had control in the first place.
And the other reality of it is, this happened exactly the way it needed to happen FOR ME.
I knew something wasn't right at the end of April. And I had a good month and a half to "prepare" myself. I knew inside that things weren't getting better. And even though I may not have realized it at the time, subconsciously I WAS preparing myself for it.
In addition, I had the opportunity to spend that time with her to love her and say good bye on Monday. God gave me that because He knew that had it happened the other way, where He just took her while I was at work, and I didn't have that time to say what I needed to say, it would have been more than I could bear.
So, long story short?
In the end, God was taking care of me. And He was taking care of Ellie. And I couldn't be more grateful for that OR for the people in my life who have continued to take care of me when I needed it the most this week.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
When the pain needs somewhere to go...
...I usually turn to writing. That's why my posts are so few and far between. I always say I'm going to keep up with this blog. And yet, when the good times roll, the blog dwindles.
Keeping right in tune with that, I have had a gut wrenching 24 hours. It appears the tears have dried up for now. Yesterday I had to put my beloved cat Ellie down.
She has been with me since the end of my freshman year of college. She's been there through the ups and downs and the tears and excitement. She's been a constant through many years of uncertainty.
One day, at the end of April, I had been gone for a week and came home to a different cat. She was thin. Over the past month there had been a quick decline. She stopped eating. She started staying under my bed, only coming out occasionally. The vet did a complete workup and all of her blood work and xrays came back normal. And then she started vomiting blood clots. It was rare at first and then over the past week it became horrifyingly regular. Yesterday, it happened again and I could see how very weak she had become. She needed to rest walking 5 feet to the water dish. I called the vet and said that something wasn't right...he said they would do more tests but the outcome was most likely not going to be good. I knew then that it was time.
They speculated that it was a hemorrhage due to some kind of GI cancer. He said that there just wasn't a treatment. There was nothing they could do for her any longer. I could tell she was tired. She was exhausted and I could see it in her face. And her life was no longer enjoyable. In fact, I hadn't heard her purr in the longest time.
I got to spend time with her before they sedated her. We snuggled. I told her how very special and loved she was. I told her I knew she was tired. She purred the whole time she was in my arms. And I think she was saying thank you. I choose to believe she was telling me it was ok. She fell asleep on my chest and wrapped in my arms, held tight by my love.
I am heart broken. I am sick with grief. I know in my head that she needed this. That it was only going to get worse from here and the chance for her to be in pain was too high. I could not put her through that. I know in my head that she went peacefully and surrounded by the person that loved her the most. And that it was the best way for her to go. But my heart...my heart just doesn't understand. My heart has lost it's companion. My heart is shattered.
I know with time the pain will lessen. But I will always crave the way her fur felt and the sound of her purr. I will always crave the pitiful little meow she gave when she knew there was tuna in her future, like she hadn't eaten for years. I will always crave the way she slapped the other cats around like it was offensive for them to be in her vicinity. She was MY cat. She didn't much care for anyone but me. We are loners, my Ellie and I. And I think she and I preferred it that way.
Keeping right in tune with that, I have had a gut wrenching 24 hours. It appears the tears have dried up for now. Yesterday I had to put my beloved cat Ellie down.
One day, at the end of April, I had been gone for a week and came home to a different cat. She was thin. Over the past month there had been a quick decline. She stopped eating. She started staying under my bed, only coming out occasionally. The vet did a complete workup and all of her blood work and xrays came back normal. And then she started vomiting blood clots. It was rare at first and then over the past week it became horrifyingly regular. Yesterday, it happened again and I could see how very weak she had become. She needed to rest walking 5 feet to the water dish. I called the vet and said that something wasn't right...he said they would do more tests but the outcome was most likely not going to be good. I knew then that it was time.
They speculated that it was a hemorrhage due to some kind of GI cancer. He said that there just wasn't a treatment. There was nothing they could do for her any longer. I could tell she was tired. She was exhausted and I could see it in her face. And her life was no longer enjoyable. In fact, I hadn't heard her purr in the longest time.
I got to spend time with her before they sedated her. We snuggled. I told her how very special and loved she was. I told her I knew she was tired. She purred the whole time she was in my arms. And I think she was saying thank you. I choose to believe she was telling me it was ok. She fell asleep on my chest and wrapped in my arms, held tight by my love.
I am heart broken. I am sick with grief. I know in my head that she needed this. That it was only going to get worse from here and the chance for her to be in pain was too high. I could not put her through that. I know in my head that she went peacefully and surrounded by the person that loved her the most. And that it was the best way for her to go. But my heart...my heart just doesn't understand. My heart has lost it's companion. My heart is shattered.
I know with time the pain will lessen. But I will always crave the way her fur felt and the sound of her purr. I will always crave the pitiful little meow she gave when she knew there was tuna in her future, like she hadn't eaten for years. I will always crave the way she slapped the other cats around like it was offensive for them to be in her vicinity. She was MY cat. She didn't much care for anyone but me. We are loners, my Ellie and I. And I think she and I preferred it that way.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Today. And tomorrow. But mostly today.
I never want to forget today. Never ever. It started out as kind of a sucky day. And quickly turned into the kind of day you never want to forget. I had a bad morning. Weighed myself and wasn't thrilled with the result. A few little pounds may seem like nothing to most of you, but to me, after losing 80 it is devistating and it sends me in a downward spiral. (There's a whole lotta crazy up here folks. A. Whole. Lot. Of. Crazy.) (I can't WAIT to have the band put back in) (I'm thinking August after the race) (OMG stop with the parentheses).
Anyways. Only 3.5 miles on the training plan today, but my body and mind, they were having none of it. My body just felt so heavy and didn't want to cooperate. It just so happens that, for the second training season in a row, my wonderful friend Noah showed up. Just when I needed him the most. (And, yes, I WAS singing Dolly Parton in my head when I wrote that.) We talked about fat kid syndrome, and how some of us always have that voice in our heads, and how we never see ourselves the way others see us. He reminded me that even those who have done marathons and ultra marathons and who are crazy ridiculous runners have bad days. And he said some wonderful and beautiful things about me that made me cry. In a good way. And he told me to be kind to myself.
And I am going to try. I can't promise anything, but I'm going to try.
Also, my coach, Darrell also happens to be a personal trainer. And he's going to help me. And I adore him for that. Getting some tools to help me while my regular tool (the band) is on vacation will help stop this downward spiral I mentioned. I know I can count on Darrell to keep me positive and to understand my limitations, my frustrations, and yet push me where I need to be pushed to.
In short, I remembered today that I have this amazing support system around me. And I never want to forget that again.
Anyways. Only 3.5 miles on the training plan today, but my body and mind, they were having none of it. My body just felt so heavy and didn't want to cooperate. It just so happens that, for the second training season in a row, my wonderful friend Noah showed up. Just when I needed him the most. (And, yes, I WAS singing Dolly Parton in my head when I wrote that.) We talked about fat kid syndrome, and how some of us always have that voice in our heads, and how we never see ourselves the way others see us. He reminded me that even those who have done marathons and ultra marathons and who are crazy ridiculous runners have bad days. And he said some wonderful and beautiful things about me that made me cry. In a good way. And he told me to be kind to myself.
And I am going to try. I can't promise anything, but I'm going to try.
Also, my coach, Darrell also happens to be a personal trainer. And he's going to help me. And I adore him for that. Getting some tools to help me while my regular tool (the band) is on vacation will help stop this downward spiral I mentioned. I know I can count on Darrell to keep me positive and to understand my limitations, my frustrations, and yet push me where I need to be pushed to.
In short, I remembered today that I have this amazing support system around me. And I never want to forget that again.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Yeah ok, maybe I'll really blog this time.
Every time I see my friend Angie post in her blog, I think that I should get back to blogging. And although this started out as a weightloss blog, I guess it doesn't really have to continue as JUST a weightloss blog. Writing always has helped me let things out a little in a way not even talking about things does. Why I continually stop doing it is beyond me. I think some of it has to do with not wanting to make public a lot of things that I actually should be writing about to clear my head.
So le's do some updating on things here, shall we?
1) I didn't win the lottery. Shocking, I know.
2) I have gained some weight back since I had my band removed. We are not going to discuss how much, because it doesn't matter. I mean, in my imperfect little brain it matters, but I know it really doesn't. I'm healthier than I was when I started this journey. And if I put my mind to it, I can figure out what I'm doing wrong. Look, I like to eat ok? That's never going to change.
3) There is still talk of getting the band put back in. If I'm honest with myself, I'm leaning towards doing it. If I do, it won't be until after my second half marathon, which is in July.
4) I'm doing my second half marathon in July. Again with CCFA. Raising money to cure Crohns and Colitis. This year I am a mentor. You can give here. Trust me, deciding to do a half marathon doesn't get any easier the second time around. Although I'm pretty comfortable with doing up to 5 miles right now at a time, the thought of doubling that still scares the pants off me. I keep telling myself I did this last year 30 lbs heavier. And I did it. All that matters is I finish, and I know I can at least do that.
5) I have some pretty fanastic friends. I started with a book club this winter and met some girls who I never would have otherwise spent time with.
6) I'm starting to see that life isn't perfect for a number of people. I know it seems a little ridiculous that I had some ideal of people's lives that they never had any problems and they lived in happy fairytale townland. Not that I'm wishing problems on people all willy nilly, but it's kind of a relief to know that life isn't perfect, even for the perfect people.
So le's do some updating on things here, shall we?
1) I didn't win the lottery. Shocking, I know.
2) I have gained some weight back since I had my band removed. We are not going to discuss how much, because it doesn't matter. I mean, in my imperfect little brain it matters, but I know it really doesn't. I'm healthier than I was when I started this journey. And if I put my mind to it, I can figure out what I'm doing wrong. Look, I like to eat ok? That's never going to change.
3) There is still talk of getting the band put back in. If I'm honest with myself, I'm leaning towards doing it. If I do, it won't be until after my second half marathon, which is in July.
4) I'm doing my second half marathon in July. Again with CCFA. Raising money to cure Crohns and Colitis. This year I am a mentor. You can give here. Trust me, deciding to do a half marathon doesn't get any easier the second time around. Although I'm pretty comfortable with doing up to 5 miles right now at a time, the thought of doubling that still scares the pants off me. I keep telling myself I did this last year 30 lbs heavier. And I did it. All that matters is I finish, and I know I can at least do that.
5) I have some pretty fanastic friends. I started with a book club this winter and met some girls who I never would have otherwise spent time with.
6) I'm starting to see that life isn't perfect for a number of people. I know it seems a little ridiculous that I had some ideal of people's lives that they never had any problems and they lived in happy fairytale townland. Not that I'm wishing problems on people all willy nilly, but it's kind of a relief to know that life isn't perfect, even for the perfect people.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Epic Fail
It didn't get any easier today. I thought maybe crying myself to sleep last night would have emptied me out. Turns out you can cry buckets and then still cry some more.
Had my doctors appointment this morning to discuss "the plan". "The plan". I hate that. But, I hate everything right now, so, whatever.
He said that because the wedding was coming up in about four weeks it was ok to wait until afterwards for surgery to remove the band. He said this wasn't a life threatening situation. Especially because the only symptom I am having is the drainage.
It's so weird to me. According to Thinner Times, essentially, Lap-Band erosion is migration of the band through the stomach wall into the stomach. When the band erodes into the stomach, bacteria from the stomach enter into the capsule that mutually forms around the band. The infection then travels along the tubing into the pocket around the subcutaneous port. Thus many patients who develop erosion first notice pain, redness, and swelling in the vicinity of the access port. Another way that band migration presents is with loss of the band's restrictive effect. When the band erodes well into the stomach, food can bypass around the band. The patient can eat much more than before.
None of this fits me. No swelling. No problem with restriction. Had I not had the drainage, I probably wouldn't have even known this was happening.
Part of me wants to just get this all over with. Having to think about this and deal with this until the surgery on November 21st is probably not healthy for someone who has as many crazy tendencies and obsessive thoughts as I do. The problem is, they said they don't really know what is going on in there till they get inside. It may take a lot more healing than we are expecting and I certainly don't want anything to mess with the wedding I've been planning for a year and a half.
Also, the crazy in me says "perfect. a little over a month before they remove the band gives you more time to lose more weight". Never mind there is a hole growing in my stomach, right?
This is how you know you are crazy. You don't care you're leaking from your belly button. You don't care that you're basically getting an ulcer (for all intensive purposes). All you care about is that the band is getting removed and JESUS CHRIST WHAT IF YOU GAIN?
My mom said to me, my best friend said to me, the dietician said to me, the doctor said to me "GIVE YOURSELF SOME CREDIT. You've lost 86 lbs since December and I can introduce you to 5 lapband patients that have had it for a year and have lost only 10 lbs. THE BAND DIDN'T DO THIS. YOU DID. You, Nicole, made good choices. You, Nicole, changed your eating habits and completed a half marathon. NOT THE BAND."
I can't accept that right now. I simply, just can't.
Had my doctors appointment this morning to discuss "the plan". "The plan". I hate that. But, I hate everything right now, so, whatever.
He said that because the wedding was coming up in about four weeks it was ok to wait until afterwards for surgery to remove the band. He said this wasn't a life threatening situation. Especially because the only symptom I am having is the drainage.
It's so weird to me. According to Thinner Times, essentially, Lap-Band erosion is migration of the band through the stomach wall into the stomach. When the band erodes into the stomach, bacteria from the stomach enter into the capsule that mutually forms around the band. The infection then travels along the tubing into the pocket around the subcutaneous port. Thus many patients who develop erosion first notice pain, redness, and swelling in the vicinity of the access port. Another way that band migration presents is with loss of the band's restrictive effect. When the band erodes well into the stomach, food can bypass around the band. The patient can eat much more than before.
None of this fits me. No swelling. No problem with restriction. Had I not had the drainage, I probably wouldn't have even known this was happening.
Part of me wants to just get this all over with. Having to think about this and deal with this until the surgery on November 21st is probably not healthy for someone who has as many crazy tendencies and obsessive thoughts as I do. The problem is, they said they don't really know what is going on in there till they get inside. It may take a lot more healing than we are expecting and I certainly don't want anything to mess with the wedding I've been planning for a year and a half.
Also, the crazy in me says "perfect. a little over a month before they remove the band gives you more time to lose more weight". Never mind there is a hole growing in my stomach, right?
This is how you know you are crazy. You don't care you're leaking from your belly button. You don't care that you're basically getting an ulcer (for all intensive purposes). All you care about is that the band is getting removed and JESUS CHRIST WHAT IF YOU GAIN?
My mom said to me, my best friend said to me, the dietician said to me, the doctor said to me "GIVE YOURSELF SOME CREDIT. You've lost 86 lbs since December and I can introduce you to 5 lapband patients that have had it for a year and have lost only 10 lbs. THE BAND DIDN'T DO THIS. YOU DID. You, Nicole, made good choices. You, Nicole, changed your eating habits and completed a half marathon. NOT THE BAND."
I can't accept that right now. I simply, just can't.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Surprise!
Leave it to me to have a complication. I'm in a really bad place right now.
I had an upper GI today and it showed band erosion. This means I will need to have the lap band completely removed. The band has eroded into my stomach lining. From doing research online, there seems to be a bunch of theories about why this happens. Some say it's from the band being too tight. Some say it is from the damage that is done to the stomach lining during surgery, making the lining weak.
And surprise! It happens in less than 2% of patients. Yeah that's right. LESS THAN TWO PERCENT. But, of course, it happens to me.
I meet with my doctor tomorrow morning to discuss options and when I'll have the band removed. He thinks we can wait till after the wedding on November 12th.
From talking with the nurse today, she said that we let things heal and then put a new lap band in. (Or , from my research online today, possibly I choose a different type of surgery. Maybe the gastric sleeve?) The research I've done online says normal healing time is 6-8 months. I know I really have to wait to discuss things with him tomorrow.
I have lost 85 lbs.
My guess? They remove the band and I gain 85 lbs. I mean I clearly wasn't able to do this on my own before. Hence why I had to have the surgery. I was told today that I'm placing too much stock in the band. I needed the band in the first place for a reason.
They take the band out and what's left? Me on my own.
Houston....we have a problem.
I had an upper GI today and it showed band erosion. This means I will need to have the lap band completely removed. The band has eroded into my stomach lining. From doing research online, there seems to be a bunch of theories about why this happens. Some say it's from the band being too tight. Some say it is from the damage that is done to the stomach lining during surgery, making the lining weak.
And surprise! It happens in less than 2% of patients. Yeah that's right. LESS THAN TWO PERCENT. But, of course, it happens to me.
I meet with my doctor tomorrow morning to discuss options and when I'll have the band removed. He thinks we can wait till after the wedding on November 12th.
From talking with the nurse today, she said that we let things heal and then put a new lap band in. (Or , from my research online today, possibly I choose a different type of surgery. Maybe the gastric sleeve?) The research I've done online says normal healing time is 6-8 months. I know I really have to wait to discuss things with him tomorrow.
I have lost 85 lbs.
My guess? They remove the band and I gain 85 lbs. I mean I clearly wasn't able to do this on my own before. Hence why I had to have the surgery. I was told today that I'm placing too much stock in the band. I needed the band in the first place for a reason.
They take the band out and what's left? Me on my own.
Houston....we have a problem.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Who Moved My Cheese?
I'm not quite sure where to start with this. We received a book in our all hands meeting last week that I'm actually surprised I've never read before.
It's called Who Moved My Cheese, by Spencer Johnson, M.D. It's all about change in your workplace and how to deal, but it's very simplified.
It's the story of two mice and two "littlepeople", who, in their daily maze get used to finding cheese where they have found it every day. Then, one day, it's gone.
I'm having a hard time with this book and my emotions relating to my job. There's been a lot of changes lately...new title, new responsibilities, new management...things that I don't feel are "right" or how things SHOULD be done.
In the book, Hem and Haw, the "littlepeople", discuss how they deserve their cheese. How they have worked hard for THEIR cheese. Hem said they were entitled to their cheese and how dare someone move it, change things, when they have worked so hard.
That's how I've been feeling lately. I'm not the boss. This is MY company. And there are MANY other people higher up than me. But you know what? The past six years I've given my blood, sweat, and tears for this department and this company, and yes, I DO feel entitled to be upset about the changes and feel like these people just aren't doing things right. I feel entitled to feel that if I've given so much, and now these changes are happenng, I've just wasted all that blood, sweat, and tears.
I feel like this book is about being afraid of change. I'm not afraid of change, I've never been afraid of change. I think change is good, I think it helps people learn, and I think it can make things better. My problem is I don't think THIS change is good. So, I pose the question....at what point do you accept change, because it's change and your superiors say, this change is coming deal with it? If you aren't fighting the change just because it's change, but you're fighting the change because you don't think it's the RIGHT change, does Who Moved My Cheese really apply? At what point do you resign to the change, because you can't change what the "superiors" have to say and do even if you don't believe in it?
I don't have the answers...do you?
It's called Who Moved My Cheese, by Spencer Johnson, M.D. It's all about change in your workplace and how to deal, but it's very simplified.
It's the story of two mice and two "littlepeople", who, in their daily maze get used to finding cheese where they have found it every day. Then, one day, it's gone.
I'm having a hard time with this book and my emotions relating to my job. There's been a lot of changes lately...new title, new responsibilities, new management...things that I don't feel are "right" or how things SHOULD be done.
In the book, Hem and Haw, the "littlepeople", discuss how they deserve their cheese. How they have worked hard for THEIR cheese. Hem said they were entitled to their cheese and how dare someone move it, change things, when they have worked so hard.
That's how I've been feeling lately. I'm not the boss. This is MY company. And there are MANY other people higher up than me. But you know what? The past six years I've given my blood, sweat, and tears for this department and this company, and yes, I DO feel entitled to be upset about the changes and feel like these people just aren't doing things right. I feel entitled to feel that if I've given so much, and now these changes are happenng, I've just wasted all that blood, sweat, and tears.
I feel like this book is about being afraid of change. I'm not afraid of change, I've never been afraid of change. I think change is good, I think it helps people learn, and I think it can make things better. My problem is I don't think THIS change is good. So, I pose the question....at what point do you accept change, because it's change and your superiors say, this change is coming deal with it? If you aren't fighting the change just because it's change, but you're fighting the change because you don't think it's the RIGHT change, does Who Moved My Cheese really apply? At what point do you resign to the change, because you can't change what the "superiors" have to say and do even if you don't believe in it?
I don't have the answers...do you?
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Liar Liar Pants on Fire
I keep saying I'm going to keep up better with this blog. Then I write one post and I forget about it.
I'm the queen of hit it and quit it apparantly.
A friend of mine sent me her blog today and it brought tears to my eyes. And I remembered what a release, what a relief it was to write. She has made the decision, like I did 70 lbs ago, to have bariatric surgery. I see so much of her in myself. I think those of us with weight issues have an unwritten sisterhood. We kind of just "get it". We understand all those feelings of inadequacy and hurt without having to say a word.
If you care to read her blog as she starts her journey its Here
I still have those feelings. I'm nowhere near overcoming them. But, I can say it is getting better. This past week I've heard "OMG you are really slimming down", "Your face is so thin", "What are you doing that you are looking so great?"
That's nice to hear. I am starting to recognize in myself the 70 lbs gone. I know that's kind of strange for people to understand. I just always see myself as the fat kid. It's just the way it goes. I tried on my wedding dress last weekend and for the first time thought "Wow, I'm really looking good". It was a nice feeling.
I have a few more goals to hit. I'm not sure if any of them will ever get me to the point where I'm completely satisfied, but I'm going to try.
I've got 26 lbs to go before I can officially say I am under 200. I honestly never thought I would ever see the number I am at right now, much less get under 200. So that's going to be a huge accomplishment for me.
The other goal I will hit probably before that one is my half marathon. That is happening July 17th in Napa. I'm walking it, but whoever would have even thought I would walk 13.1 miles.
I'm really happy that my journey has inspired someone. Like I said, I thought about keeping this whole journey a secret. But then I wondered what good would that do? This is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone needs help at different times in their lives, and everyone needs help in different forms. This is a form that is right for me, my friend, and many other people.
I look forward to her journey as well as the rest of mine.
I'm the queen of hit it and quit it apparantly.
A friend of mine sent me her blog today and it brought tears to my eyes. And I remembered what a release, what a relief it was to write. She has made the decision, like I did 70 lbs ago, to have bariatric surgery. I see so much of her in myself. I think those of us with weight issues have an unwritten sisterhood. We kind of just "get it". We understand all those feelings of inadequacy and hurt without having to say a word.
If you care to read her blog as she starts her journey its Here
I still have those feelings. I'm nowhere near overcoming them. But, I can say it is getting better. This past week I've heard "OMG you are really slimming down", "Your face is so thin", "What are you doing that you are looking so great?"
That's nice to hear. I am starting to recognize in myself the 70 lbs gone. I know that's kind of strange for people to understand. I just always see myself as the fat kid. It's just the way it goes. I tried on my wedding dress last weekend and for the first time thought "Wow, I'm really looking good". It was a nice feeling.
I have a few more goals to hit. I'm not sure if any of them will ever get me to the point where I'm completely satisfied, but I'm going to try.
I've got 26 lbs to go before I can officially say I am under 200. I honestly never thought I would ever see the number I am at right now, much less get under 200. So that's going to be a huge accomplishment for me.
The other goal I will hit probably before that one is my half marathon. That is happening July 17th in Napa. I'm walking it, but whoever would have even thought I would walk 13.1 miles.
I'm really happy that my journey has inspired someone. Like I said, I thought about keeping this whole journey a secret. But then I wondered what good would that do? This is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone needs help at different times in their lives, and everyone needs help in different forms. This is a form that is right for me, my friend, and many other people.
I look forward to her journey as well as the rest of mine.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Cottage cheese violation
I am officially sick to death of cottage cheese. Look, I know cottage cheese isn't REALLY cheese, but I'm lumping it in this category anyways. It has cheese in the name for Christ's sake.
I'm really sick of cottage cheese. Like, so sick that if I see one more tiny white curd I may go all Godzilla on whatever is near by. Hopefully it's not a tiny village of pygmies or the Keebler Elf tree. I'd hate to be responsible for the demise of those things.
I have a small tub of cottage cheese sitting here at work next to my keyboard. It's my lunch. I was excited as I grabbed it from the fridge. My mouth was watering as I opened the top. Then I stuck my spoon in it and I looked at the container in disdain as if to say to it "I will kill you cottage cheese". And I thought, woah. What was that? I usually eat 2-3 little cottage cheeses a day. (Even the words cottage cheese is making my rage flag fly for some reason.)
So I dismissed it and I stuck my spoon in the container. The weirdest thing happened. As I was bringing the spoon to my mouth, all slow motion movie like, my face contorted and in my head I could hear "Noooooooooooooooooooooooo", but the spoon went in my mouth anyways. And then. There was silence.
The cottage cheese violated me and went down into my belly.
And now, I'm sitting here rocking back and forth wondering what I'm going to do with my lovely snack I enjoyed so much for so long and how it could have turned on me.
I hope you're happy now cottage cheese. We're on a break. We're in a fight.
Off to find a new snack....
I'm really sick of cottage cheese. Like, so sick that if I see one more tiny white curd I may go all Godzilla on whatever is near by. Hopefully it's not a tiny village of pygmies or the Keebler Elf tree. I'd hate to be responsible for the demise of those things.
I have a small tub of cottage cheese sitting here at work next to my keyboard. It's my lunch. I was excited as I grabbed it from the fridge. My mouth was watering as I opened the top. Then I stuck my spoon in it and I looked at the container in disdain as if to say to it "I will kill you cottage cheese". And I thought, woah. What was that? I usually eat 2-3 little cottage cheeses a day. (Even the words cottage cheese is making my rage flag fly for some reason.)
So I dismissed it and I stuck my spoon in the container. The weirdest thing happened. As I was bringing the spoon to my mouth, all slow motion movie like, my face contorted and in my head I could hear "Noooooooooooooooooooooooo", but the spoon went in my mouth anyways. And then. There was silence.
The cottage cheese violated me and went down into my belly.
And now, I'm sitting here rocking back and forth wondering what I'm going to do with my lovely snack I enjoyed so much for so long and how it could have turned on me.
I hope you're happy now cottage cheese. We're on a break. We're in a fight.
Off to find a new snack....
Monday, May 30, 2011
Someone chase me
So...I've always been part of the "don't run unless being chased" group. Actually, let me restate that. I've always been part of the don't MOVE unless being chased group. I mean, ask anyone who knows me...I would send my cat to go get my drinks if the lazy things would oblige.
As I mentioned in my earlier blog post, on July 17th I will be doing 13.1 miles for Crohn's.
My Website
For the most part, I joined up with this and committed to this without thinking. I kind of was like, pshaw. 13.1 miles? What's the big deal? I'm sure it will be fine. And now, as I've gotten up to 6 miles, I'm sitting here going 13.1 miles? WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY WERE YOU THINKING???!!!
Actually, I would have more exclamation points at the end of that sentence but I'm far too exhausted from the 6 miles.
As the day gets closer, I'm realizing that I'm scared. I will do this. I know I will. And when I cross the finish line, I will cry with accomplishment before falling on my face and having to be dragged off the course by the paramedics.
But, for right now, I have all these thoughts in my head. In clinical crazy town terms, we call this Holy Shit What The F*** A Half Marathon? (Otherwise known as HSWTFAHF, you may be more familiar with it that way).
My fears are:
What if I don't finish?
What if both my kneecaps fall off?
What if I'm the last person to finish?
What if I fall down and pass out? (This will be remedied by pinning a note to my shirt that says take me to the nearest margarita and I will be fine).
What if I don't finish?
Did I mention what if I don't finish?
I can't decide what is worse for me...not finishing or being the last person to finish. It might be a tie.
Well, while I face my fears, while trying to have a heart to heart with my spazing leg muscles, I'll just ask for you to say a short prayer for my kneecaps. And maybe the rest of me.
As I mentioned in my earlier blog post, on July 17th I will be doing 13.1 miles for Crohn's.
My Website
For the most part, I joined up with this and committed to this without thinking. I kind of was like, pshaw. 13.1 miles? What's the big deal? I'm sure it will be fine. And now, as I've gotten up to 6 miles, I'm sitting here going 13.1 miles? WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY WERE YOU THINKING???!!!
Actually, I would have more exclamation points at the end of that sentence but I'm far too exhausted from the 6 miles.
As the day gets closer, I'm realizing that I'm scared. I will do this. I know I will. And when I cross the finish line, I will cry with accomplishment before falling on my face and having to be dragged off the course by the paramedics.
But, for right now, I have all these thoughts in my head. In clinical crazy town terms, we call this Holy Shit What The F*** A Half Marathon? (Otherwise known as HSWTFAHF, you may be more familiar with it that way).
My fears are:
What if I don't finish?
What if both my kneecaps fall off?
What if I'm the last person to finish?
What if I fall down and pass out? (This will be remedied by pinning a note to my shirt that says take me to the nearest margarita and I will be fine).
What if I don't finish?
Did I mention what if I don't finish?
I can't decide what is worse for me...not finishing or being the last person to finish. It might be a tie.
Well, while I face my fears, while trying to have a heart to heart with my spazing leg muscles, I'll just ask for you to say a short prayer for my kneecaps. And maybe the rest of me.
A picture is worth a thousand words
So...I just finished my "don't call it a come back" post when I was thinking, maybe I should look through some old pictures.
I keep saying how I can't see the difference from 65 lbs ago. When I look at the full length picture I took the day before surgery I really honestly and truly go "Do I look any different?". (Look, I already admitted I was crazy town, ok?)
But then I looked at a couple close ups of my face and I can really see a difference. So maybe that makes me SLIGHTLY less crazy?
Before:
And After:
I keep saying how I can't see the difference from 65 lbs ago. When I look at the full length picture I took the day before surgery I really honestly and truly go "Do I look any different?". (Look, I already admitted I was crazy town, ok?)
But then I looked at a couple close ups of my face and I can really see a difference. So maybe that makes me SLIGHTLY less crazy?
Before:
Don't turn out the lights.....
I let my blog go dark. It wasn't intentional. It just happened.
I'm trying to get back in the swing of things now though. Let's see...since the last time I wrote I've only lost about 7 lbs. It's been slow going, which is hard for me to accept.
The weight fell off so quickly at the beginning that I didn't even have to think about it. I just got another fill last Monday. I think I have close to 5 cc's in my band now. I still don't feel like I've hit the "sweet spot" everyone talks about.
I still have that emotional piece swimming around in my head and at this point I don't feel like it will ever get better. I met up with a friend who I hadn't seen in about a month to go to a concert this past week and she said "Look at you skinny". And I thought "Who could she POSSIBLY be talking to"?? There are times that I catch a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror and there is a fleeting thought about how thin I am looking. But it's gone fairly quickly. Because, then, when I see pictures of myself, I see how far I have to go.
I don't know how or when the crazy took residence in my head, but I don't think it's going anywhere anytime soon. If I've lost 65 lbs and still can't see how far I've come? Still can't see a difference from 65 lbs ago? There's something seriously wrong with me and I don't know how to fix it.
In other news, I'm still training with Team Challenge WI for my half marathon. I have about a month and a half left, and I feel like I really need to ramp up my training. In addition, my wedding is in 5 months and I am really scared of seeing those pictures as I look today.
I'm trying to get back in the swing of things now though. Let's see...since the last time I wrote I've only lost about 7 lbs. It's been slow going, which is hard for me to accept.
The weight fell off so quickly at the beginning that I didn't even have to think about it. I just got another fill last Monday. I think I have close to 5 cc's in my band now. I still don't feel like I've hit the "sweet spot" everyone talks about.
I still have that emotional piece swimming around in my head and at this point I don't feel like it will ever get better. I met up with a friend who I hadn't seen in about a month to go to a concert this past week and she said "Look at you skinny". And I thought "Who could she POSSIBLY be talking to"?? There are times that I catch a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror and there is a fleeting thought about how thin I am looking. But it's gone fairly quickly. Because, then, when I see pictures of myself, I see how far I have to go.
I don't know how or when the crazy took residence in my head, but I don't think it's going anywhere anytime soon. If I've lost 65 lbs and still can't see how far I've come? Still can't see a difference from 65 lbs ago? There's something seriously wrong with me and I don't know how to fix it.
In other news, I'm still training with Team Challenge WI for my half marathon. I have about a month and a half left, and I feel like I really need to ramp up my training. In addition, my wedding is in 5 months and I am really scared of seeing those pictures as I look today.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Ipad!
Here’s some copy for your blog: I’m posting this to enter a contest offered by CheckNGo at The Centsible Life! I want to win the iPad 2! Enter to win here: http://bit.ly/TCLiPad
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)