I’m in my usual countdown panic as I try to tie up things in the UK and think ahead to what I’m going to need for the next 6 weeks in Canada.

And I’m still reflecting on this past week of “stepping back”.

All in all it’s been a good thing.  I’ve been chilled out about food and have lost the weight I gained due to stupid eating.  I’ve done a bit of running and a bit of walking and have enjoyed not writing it all down.

In my “counting unhatched chickens” way, I was thinking that I would have a relaxed week, get a final diagnosis from the senior consultant and then get on with life in whatever direction it was going to go.

But instead, as is normal in these “pre-hatched chicken counting” situations, I didn’t get any news at all from the appointment. Instead,and I quote the consultant, “we are back at square one”, which means that I know nothing more than I knew 6 months ago. I feel knocked back and maybe not quite as reslilant as I thought I was feeling.

But one good thing came out of a not very good appointment.  Firstly, I decided to take the husband into the room just so he could witness what I’ve been up against.  The senior doc was NOT pleased that I was seeing him rather than the other guy but – and this is the new thing for me – I just didn’t care. I think maybe I’m getting to the point where I’m not feeling awkward about being a pain.

Anyway, after telling me that there was no news, he leaned back in his chair and said, “Would you like me to refer you to the specialist liver unit for a second opinion even if it is a bit early for that?”

Old me might have given the decision back to him, asked him if I should wait until his team had had another chance.   New me just said, “Yes, I would.”

New me was also still too polite to ask how I could possibly get a second opinion when I hadn’t had a first one yet. But never mind.  I figure, God willing, I can be rude when I’m an old lady.

The slightly humourous thing about hospital appointments is that, when you step on the scales, everyone is hoping that you haven’t lost any weight. The nurse who weighs you smiles and commends you for not being much lighter than you were 3 months ago, and the doctor comments on how well you’re not losing.  I didn’t dare tell them how bloody hard I’d been working to lose it.  And I was truly glad to know that I could sit there and not worry that the pounds were falling off for the worst possible reason.

Funny old world.

My very best Lent was back in the early 90s when I gave up guilt.  I decided to be conscious about how many times a day/week/month I felt bad because I was letting down my kids/husband/friends/neighbours/community/the world in general and it was a lot.  So I quit for Lent and have never been that guilt-ridden again.

This Lent is going to take me right up to my next appointment with the specialist.  Tests will have been done, MRI results in.  This is a big ask, but I’m going to stop worrying about it for 40 days and spend that normal worry time working on my spiritual life. If any of my symptoms change I’ll just go to my gp.

Simple?  No.  But that’s why it’s a good thing to do for Lent.  It will require a little faith, a little hope and a lot of discipline.  I will have to interrupt my own thoughts regularly.  I will practice deep breathing and pray as best I can.

What does this have to do with food/body sanity? Everything insofar as stress leads to out of control eating and fear of illness leads to a “who cares” attitude about caring for my body.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

By the way, if the best Lent was when I gave up guilt, the toughest was the one when I gave up coffee.  I don’t think it made me a better human being or drew me any closer to God.

As posted on BCB today: I’ve been thinking a lot today, and I can’t come up with anything new to do to help me stay the course. That means that the only course of action is to fall back on the remedial mindset. No click, but I gotta do it. No burst of positive energy. No amazing insight that leads to an “Aha!” moment. But I gotta do it. So that means focusing on remedial tasks without the benefit of any of the aforementioned fireworks. Hard work, eating smart, journaling on WWonline, working out, planning ahead, all that stuff that seems so mundane and dull. But I know it works, even in the absence of the fireworks, new gadgets, gizmos, toys, tricks, etc. I DO have pretty (titanium & plum, nice color combo!) new Asics Gel Cumulus shoes, so there’s some excitement, but not much. Still, gotta do it. I’m too old to be playing these games with my health!! So I am committing right now to working this program no matter how un-exciting it may seem. No matter how dull/boring/routine it seems. Because that’s what us remedial girls have to do. And the excitement will be in the form of weight loss and health gains, when I finally actually WORK on this. I guess I can’t be bored with working the program, because I HAVEN’T been. And heaven knows, as much as I love using the WWonline site, there’s no sense in paying for it if I’m not going to make the most of it.

Now I’m going to take a bit of time to work on the budget project from hell, before doing some weight work and getting on the treadmill. That’s my plan for the remainder of the day. Budgets, weights, walk. Popcorn later, when obligations are completed. Early to bed, after getting ready for the start of the work week. And a fresh, new, remedial attitude for the day: Putting one foot in front of the other, and the right food into my mouth, without the fireworks, because there simply aren’t any fireworks left after doing this for thirty eight years, but it has to be done anyway. So I’m going to do it. That’s my truth, and I’m sticking to it.

Once again, it’s the day traditionally given over to resolutions. I make the same one every year–almost the same one. It started as a weight loss thing. Now, it’s more of a health issue. I’ve always felt younger than my age, physically as well as mentally and emotionally. This year, I feel older physically than I’d like. High blood pressure, high cholesterol, blood sugar numbers that have crossed the line into pre-diabetic, and a motorcycle accident that, while fairly minor, has left me with pain and stiffmess that I don’t like having to live with. So what can I do about these issues? And the other issues: poor self-esteem, lack of confidence, depression, seasonal affective disorder, blah blah blah. The answer to ALL of these issues is the same. Take better care of myself! This is NOT rocket science! Eat well, lose weight, exercise to strengthen my heart and build muscle, use my light box daily to be sure I don’t suffer from the lack of sun here in the winter, and end up feeling better all the way around. Nope, not rocket science. Yet, I struggle. I fail–repeatedly. What the f#$% is wrong with me? I can tell you what’s RIGHT with me–I NEVER give up. I’ve been fighting this battle since I was 14. I haven’t had a lot of success, but I haven’t given up, either. And I’m sure not going to now. I’m going to use the motivation of being Mother of the Bride next year as the carrot on the stick. But since I don’t want to find myself without motivation after that, it will be necessary to make the new behaviors permanent. Not just doing different things to lose weight for one occasion, but permanent behaviors to keep with me forever. That’s where WW comes in. That’s how they roll. And that’s how I’ll roll. With so much to live for, I cannot keep working on an early death! I must work on my follow-through, because all the tools and knowledge are in place. I just need to keep using them, day after day, one day at a time, for the rest of my life.

I rarely get sick. My viral history for 2009 was a three day cold in January.

But I get things. Things that require prodding and poking and scanning and sometimes slicing and dicing. And when I get these things I find it hard to think of anything else.

I guess you’ve guessed that I’ve got a thing.

I was great with the GP telling me that I had an ulcer. And fine when she suggested an ultrasound to rule out gallstones.

But the words “cystic” and “lesion” in the same sentence have sent my anxiety levels into the stratosphere. DO NOT GOOGLE THEM. In fact, I haven’t given you enough information to make googling a worthwhile adventure.

Last year I started with – “let’s just have this checked” and was under a general anaesthetic within the month. It seems to be happening again. And it makes Christmas a very stressy time.

So what does this all do to the eating?
Part of me can’t eat because I feel kind of sick.
Part of me wants to stuff down the carbs to quell the anxiety.
Part of me wants to eat a tub of ice-cream to prove that I’m not losing weight as a symptom of a fatal disease.
But all of me really wants to be sane.
Sadly, it being Christmas, and me being all alone in this house until the end of the week, this may not be a possibility. (Thank God for the arrival of the husband on Friday – he knows me.)

My GP is not worried and told me three times in one conversation not to let it spoil my Christmas. She did point out that, if they were really worried, I would have been rushed in on the 2 week plan for people with suspected cancer.

(It’s an extraordinary policy of the UK government and it works – at least in our area. The downside, of course, was the time I got rushed to the breast cancer clinic within 10 days of seeing my GP about one-sided breast pain and I was a messy mess – dead and gone – until the findings came back negative for anything. Again, DO NOT GOOGLE)

So I’m still weighing myself every morning to prove that I’m not wasting away.
I don’t think I’m yellow – but the lighting in this house does give everything an amber hue…….
I only started to itch all over when I read that it’s a symptom of liver cancer and I try not to count symptoms with such timing.

And I’ve tried to ignore the articles that say the worst cases have no symptoms at all. Bother!

I’m going to try to write more this week and worry less. However, you may hear a tiny whisper of anxiety behind everything I say. Or maybe a giant shout. But I need to keep this project going. The one thing I don’t want to do is gain ten pounds out of groundless fear. It just ends up being a pain and a disappointment when I’m all healed up and healthy again. And I should be healed up and healthy but the end of January. Be positive with me!

Today is moving day at my office. My department is moving about 40 miles away, which means a commute where there didn’t used to be one. There are both positive and negative aspects to this. Negative is the time and cost of the commute. We’re talking 90 minutes to 2 hours a day, depending on traffic, and $150-$200 a month, depending on mileage. Positive is a new work atmosphere and spending time with co-workers I previously only got to see at occasional staff meetings,  working in the “big city” (Milwaukee) where there are more opportunities for just about everything, and shaking things up a bit. It’s the “shaking things up” part that I’ve been thinking about this morning. The powers-that-be are treating us to pizza today for lunch. Not the kind of pizza that is worth getting sick over (lactose intolerance), or getting fat(ter) over, but crappy, bring-on-the-Imodium, I-think-I’m-gonna-be-sick, chain restaurant (think “hut”…) pizza. I’m not having that. I figure my first day at my new office is a good time to go public as being a non-pizza/non-dessert kind of girl. Then co-workers will be accustomed to the fact that I have different needs when it comes to food–not weight loss needs (people don’t take those seriously), but health needs. That will make it easier to do this. 

 This means being strong today. If I cave, and eat crappy, makes-me-sick pizza, my health issues will take a back seat to my ability to be swayed when others want someone to “play” with. “Come on, PLEASE go for pizza with me? Pleeeaaassseee?” No. Pizza doesn’t agree with me, even if I take Lactaid. No. Ice cream isn’t worth how awful I’ll feel later. I’m lactoce intolerant. No. I choose to stay away from sweets because I am pre-diabetic. I choose health. I choose to be fit and healthy and vital. I choose to be active and engaged in life, rather than fat and sick.

I wonder if balancing my health needs with being social and friendly will be a challenge? I don’t think it will be too bad. Many of the people at my new office are younger than I am–parents of elementary school or middle school kids. They seem to be healthy, vital, gym-going kinds of people. They will understand. Those that I can picture as trying to persuade me to join them in the “eat-fest” behavior are people I can see being potential binge buddies. I REALLY don’t need to encourage close friendships with people like that. I don’t have any binge buddies right now (except one of my daughters, but that’s a whole other post), and that’s a good thing. I don’t need any!

I continue to work on my attitude. Today’s post is part of that work. It’s not only my feelings about food and exercise that are directing my behavior, but also feelings about the commute I’ll be undertaking. I am feeling resentful that someone other than myself can make a decision that impacts my circumstances in ways that will have a large negative impact on my life (money, time). I am sad because it will cost me so much to keep my job, especially after I have taken on a fairly expensive hobby (motorcycling). I am not willing to give up that hobby, so I will have to work hard to fit it in around the reduced resources. It is important enough to me to make this work. It is also important to be perceived as the kind of employee who is willing to go the extra mile at work. That will (or should) result in increased income. That will help me maintain my hobby more easily. (And after a suitable period of intense practice riding said hobby, I can use it as transportation to work!)

Lots of work to be done here. I’m up to the challenge. I’m strong, smart, capable, and willing to work hard to accomplish ALL my goals, despite the increased challenge in getting to work, and in educating my co-workers in how I need to take care of myself.

That’s what it feels like I’m doing since my blood sugar issue began–saying goodbye. But it’s turning into a much longer goodbye that it ought to be. I really believed that I would take responsibility for my health when the chips (no pun intended) were down. But it’s turning out to be harder than I thought to take care of myself. This needs to be a “pull off the bandaid quickly” kind of thing, not a long drawn out process. How do I make that happen?