Trying again

Time to fire this ol' thing up again. I've had a lot of things happen since last I was here. Most of you reading know. For those who don't know the details, it really doesn't matter, except that it distracted me and now I must get myself back on track.

My weight, despite changes and diet and all that stubbornly clings to 300. It bounces up and down around that number, but it seems to be the anchor number. 

I am doing more, but I really can't seem to force myself into a routine. And changes are more easily made through an adaptable routine. Routine being the key word.

I went on a mini vacation with my sisters (and one of their friend) and I got in some of the kind of walking I enjoy. And I did enjoy it! 

I want to keep doing that, but I'm thinking I'm going to have to do a lot of boring walking around town and through stores, whether that's where I want to be or not. 

I am doing better. The walks I succeeded at in the mountains proved that to me. (Also proved that I am correct in saying "It may take me a while, but I CAN do it.)

What I need is some outward accountability. That is you, my friends. Please get on my case if I don't post something here regularly. I'd like to go every day, or every other day, but for now I'll accept a staring goal of twice a week. 

Please, if you can, help me hold myself accountable. If I can cure or adapt my physical problems, I am now free to do things I want, instead of just wishing and dreaming of doing them. I can even afford to do things, so long as I'm not reckless or extravagant.

This is important to me.

I will also benefit by getting back into the habit of writing regularly, which has been tricky with arthritis in my hands and ennui in my head. I don't like not writing meaningfully and frequently.

Here's to good habits and successful routines, and GETTING A LIFE.

Crossed the Line

Well, it finally happened.

I am no longer prediabetic.
I'm diabetic.
Barely, but the numbers don't lie.
Nor does the way I feel (fatigued) or smell (like wet burned paper towels) or react (sleep)

A diagnosis for one part of my problems, too.


Another line I've crossed recently.
There have been days when I don't get dressed.
Or nights when I don't get undressed.
I sleep.
I only get up to go to the bathroom and every now and then make a sandwich.

Partly seasonal; partly situational.
Things change.

For all I know, it could be partly physical as well, since diabetes does contribute to depression.

That would be three sources.

Today has been a good day.
Hopefully there will be more. (I'm thinking the medicine is finally kicking in. It's been three weeks now.)

Oh, and my weight has gone down, for the most part. Fluctuating at 300 now instead of 310. I guess sleeping and not eating will do that for you. I'll keep that change if I can.

Sleeping is Scary

Someone seriously needs to work on the durability of sleep apnea masks. Insurance will pay for one a year, but my experience has been they last six months. Then you --I -- get to pay @ $200 to breathe the other half of the year.

Part of my feeling, with the kids moving away, was that I would be able to sleep without the mask when my sinuses are sensitive to touch. Sometimes the pain from the mask on top of my nose and cheekbones prevented sleep.

But, I don't sleep well without the mask. I guess I've got used to that hose blowing air in my face when I get too tired to breathe while sleeping. It does happen. I've lain semi-awake and thought about how much work just breathing can be. And waited for the puff of air that would stretch those ligaments and open those lungs.

So much work sometimes.

There have been nights I only did it because I didn't want to traumatize the kids by having them wake up with me dead beside them.
Or at least that's what I think I was thinking. Who really knows?

Other than the death thing, the sleep apnea is the probable cause of the pulmonary hypertension that is the probable cause of my slide into heart failure. Fortunately, my failure isnt too much advanced.

But, it's still pretty miserable. I hate not being able to walk to get around. I don't like having to stand or do work in short little bursts. It's frightening to gasp and choke. It's uncomfortable -- obviously -- to be in pain.

But sleeping well (and oxygenating) are kind of key to not getting any worse any faster.

Therefore, the manufacturers should (but probably won't) make more a more durable product. And I'm not really sure how they could do that, even from a user's point of view. Except a thicker materiel at the nose, and stick-out plastic clips will probably break off prematurely. The magnetic things work better.
Of course there are always weak points and problem spots. Nothing is perfect.

I would like to be part of the solutions, though, iunstead of JUST having/being problems.

Another Year Accomplished

I made it!
Through the holiday season and into a new year.
I made it.

There were times when I didn't think I would.
Times I didn't think it would matter if I did or not.
Times I wished it didn't matter.

Times I thought my weakness was an excuse for my own laziness and lack of motivation and all that kind of stuff.

But the closer it got to the actual holidays, the more I thought I couldn't taint the season for the littles.
At least not if I could help it.
Cardiac and pulmonary issues often times don't wait for the right time or respond well to willpower, especially when there are underlying mental issues.
But, if I could help it, I would.

I would do what I could to change my ~isolating~ circumstances.
I would try every day to live up to the commitments I've made.
I would try my hardest to do my best.

Somedays that barely gets me out of bed.
Sometimes I wonder if I really am trying my hardest.
Only God knows, I suppose, because I don't.

I want to be trying my hardest.
But it's so hard.
I'll try after I wake up more.
After I eat.
After I do this or that.
After it gets warm.
After the snow melts.
After the rain stops.
When the pain stops...


I'm thinking, now, that I'll probably make it past my birthday and even Valentine's Day.
Beyond that, I don't know. There's no feeling -- emotion --either way.
Of course, it isn't all up to me.
If it was, there'd not be the things of today. No little guy and girl. No Tammy or Tracy, even.
If it was -- ever -- up to me it would have ended more than a half-century ago.

I sometimes wonder if the sin was in continuing when I knew better,

I sometimes wonder that still.

More Dead than Dying

Most of the time I am functional. Some days I'm even doing pretty well.

But there are days when none of this is true.
There are days when I feel, not as if I may be dying, but that I am actually on the brink of death.

There are no dramatic symptoms. Not even fatigue.
There is nothing I could take to a doctor or hospital and say this, this, or that is more wrong with me today than it was yesterday, or an hour ago.

But I feel it.
Sometimes I can almost see it.

Death hovers; yet it is not Death itself, as an entity, that hovers.
It is I who hover.

No, there's no decision to be made.
No fears or delights to consider or overcome.
No choices.
No Stay or Go

This is just the place I am, at these times.

Suspended animation, perhaps.
A rest on the journey.
To who knows where.

At these times, it seems that the Walls Between, or the Veils, have become thin.
That whatever obscures those Dividers are in some sense swept aside.

Again, they are not pushed or pushing at me.
There is no pressure, no drive, nor even any specific knowledge of what awaits on the Other Side.

There is just the Presence of the Partition(s).

It may not be Death that is beyond.
It may be any of several other perceptions.
An astral dimension. Or dimensions.
Parallel universe.
Quantum physics -- the multiples of me "be"ing multiple.

In this state I sometimes see and hear Tammy trying to wake me.
I see and hear her panic when this other me does not waken easily, or respond.
Panic and sometimes sheer terror in her voice.

This has not happened; this has never happened.
It is something that I observe, through the veil.


In older novels, one reads of people with 'heart troubles' having sinking spells. These vague heart troubles, in many cases, are CHF. Undiagnosed; unspecified; usually manageable.
Most of these people have decent reasonable life spans in spite of, or perhaps because of the spells.
Perhaps they are a recharge for weakened spirits living in a weakened body with a weakened heart.

All I know, is that sometimes I am "there", for no reason that I can see.

It's a very otherly place, and I am grateful for it as I wait, once again, for the sinking spell to pass.
As it will.

As it WILL.

Some Improvement

For the second full week, my daily weight has been below 300 on my home scale.

Now I know daily weigh-ins are discouraged as part of a weight loss plan, but they are somewhat necessary with the CHF. Sudden weight gain could be the first warning sign of further problems/ loss of effectiveness/pulmonary edema.
The guidelines are 3 pounds a day, but I have always had the "ability" to add on about seven pounds overnight with no difficulty or health problems. The doctor says just watch for abnormal and keep track of other symptoms as well.

I have been somewhat productive around the house and yard, although sometimes it's quite a push to motivate me. I like to always do it later when i feel better.
But I have been doing it anyway.

My feet stay terribly swollen these days. Sometimes it hurts to walk on them. Sometimes its horrible to squeeze into shoes. Mentioned that to my PCP, and she looked and said well maybe.

Excuse me? You people (medical professionals) all insist that my damn legs are swelled when they are just extremely FAT. But I teeter in here on feet the size of volleyballs and you say maybe? Here's hoping -- on one hand -- that they are still swelled like that when I see the cardiologist. On the other hand, it would probably be really good if all that swelling went away. We could blame it on summer, or something like that.

Balancing the fluid intake thing has been a nightmare in the heat. I have a low tolerance for heat -- one memorable summer I was in ER three times for rehydration. And too much fluid now means I swell and breathe like a fish. Too little fluid means someone may have to pick me up off the floor, and at over 300 pounds, that's not a nice thing to do to anyone. Plus, you know, I'd hate for it to be falling off the toilet or before/while I'm still getting dressed. So embarrassing.

I think the difference is having the thyroid medicine back. I knew I needed it, but for some reason the blood tests weren't reflecting that need. Possibly the "within normal parameters" is a number too high or low for me to function optimally. Or some of my other medicine is causing a false reading.
I'd really like to be evaluated by an endocrinologist. But you can't exactly just call one up and say Hey, I want to see you.
I may "just" have an on again off again thyroid -- its been doing that for a couple of decades. But I'd like to be sure -- I suspect I have Hashimoto's, but have also been accused of imagining the worst. I'm not sure how or why having a diagnosis -- or even a probably not from a specialist -- is the worst, but that's the message I get. Some of my symptoms are NOT consistent.

But -- I am showing improvement in some small ways, and that's probably worth being happy about.

Legs

Hooray! I can exercise my legs without scaring my heartbeat and drowning from lack of breathing.
It's not just my legs. I can do hips and even waist, so long as I'm seated or lying down.


I WANT TO WALK!
I miss long rambling walks.
I miss quick trots (so to speak)

So, the legs are a good place to start.
That's one reason why I wish my pedal thing hadn't fallen apart.
I wish I still had my gazelle, but I don't know if I'm ready for that. It involves standing and moving-- both at the same time. That's a problem. For now.

I do get terrible cramps in my butt muscles, where the holes in the hip bones are.
I get sore in my groin joints and my knees get tender.
My traitorous back ties itself in knots.

I'm still bloated. They keep telling me my legs are really swollen, but I still don't see that. My legs just look like my same-ol' fat legs to me. Heck, I can even see my little round ankle bones once again. Haven't been able to do that for a while.

My feet, however do swell tremendously. My feet look like balls with toes. Even Hailey has commented on them. Usually not painful, but cartoonish to look at.


Health professionals still on their "lose weight" mantra.
Still refusing to believe my food diary or reports. Insisting exercise is the answer even with limited mobility. Haven't yet figured out how to move without moving. (I did semi-research joining the Y for swimmercise but too expensive and too far to drive with gas prices push-push-pushing $3.)

I think I am losing weight. I think my body is turning everything into water. Water is NOT weightless. The way my clothes fit is changing. That's almost always the first clue. My  pants are getting longer and the waistbands (on any and all types of clothes) are rubbing.
The scale is as always -- bouncing between 7 to 10 pounds different from day to day. They say to report weight gain that high but that is and always has been normal for me.

This weather hasn't made being able to "do" an easy option. By "do" I mean things like walk to my car, stand at the sink, take a shower.
Oh, to live where it is forever spring or fall! With sunshine and showers for the Glorious Fourth and snow for Christmas. the end.

All I can do is try and do what I find I can, I suppose.
Starting with the legs.