So recently I was reading something or watching something or something and this little factoid about carrots came across my awareness. Did you know that those cute little baby carrots you buy in the produce section aren’t actually carrots? Well, they’re carrots in the sense that they’re made of carrots, but they’re not real, live carrots that grow in the ground. They’re manufactured. Produced, if you will.
Apparently what happens is that larger carrots (I suspect one’s that would never sell on a produce shelf) are fed into a machine (I’m picturing woodchipper) and change-o-presto, out pops a baby carrot. Hummmppphhhh…
Makes me want to stop buying baby carrots. Of course, knowing this little fact does explain a few things. Such as why baby carrots sometimes taste bitter. I’m sure if you saw the actual carrot that made the baby carrot, you wouldn’t want to eat it as it was old and shrively.
Anyway, enough about the carrots, just know that my initial reaction was to respond in a loud voice, “I’ve been flim-flammed! Flim-Flammed!”
And with that, I’ve been eating a lot more carrots lately. It’s not your typical New Year, new diet thing. If you’ve been reading here any time at all you know I don’t really believe in the New Year’s resolution thing. It only leads to me disappointing myself and why do I need to do that to myself when there’s so much of it from other sources.
The diet is a diet though. It’s a low-carb, low-sugar thing and this time it was doctor-ordered so I kind of feel like I have to give this lifestyle change an honest-to-god, college try. Now the doctor-ordered may surprise you, but it’s not what you think. It’s not diabetes. Whew…not that I thought it was, but with the family history it’s not looking so good for me.
What is it? Exactly what I’ve been saying for years. It’s my hormones. You see, around the time I quit caring that the universe existed and that other human beings actually breathed oxygen (more commonly known as November and December), I had a visit to a new doctor. Not a gyno, I got a new one of those in October and while he tried, he just didn’t go far enough.
This doctor is what’s best described as a functional medicine doctor. I walked in with a list of complaints that went something like this: very irregular periods, mood swings, hot flashes, night sweats, insomnia, weight gain, hair loss, dead libido and a painfully dry hoo-hah. Sounds positively menopausal, no? But I kept getting the finger shake from all my other doctors and a pat on the head saying I was too young for all this business.
Well, guess what? Apparently not too young as it was happening to me and my not much past forty self. So this new doc sat with me for about an hour. We talked about many things some of them things that Southern ladies and gentlemen do not talk about in a room by themselves unless they are planning on doing something lewd and lascivious.
Then his vampire took half the blood out of my body and sent it away for tests. Then someone slapped an estrogen patch on my ass and I sat in a room with a lady and had a conversation about lotions and bio-identical hormones and getting some (not bio-identical hormones). It was a very interesting conversation. Then I was ushered into a room with a lady who loaded a brown paper bag with supplements and charged me an outrageous sum of money. As I stumbled out into the waiting room, blinking in the suddenly too bright lights, someone shoved a ream of paper into my arms and told me as Yoda was wont to say, “There is no try, only do.”
The papers included instructions on how to live, essentially. These medications, those supplements, that kind of diet, sleeping and exercising, it was a whole life wellness plan with an out clause in a few weeks for them to make changes when all the blood tests came back and spelled out the underlying causes of my problems.
That out clause comes Monday. I suspect there won’t be many changes as I haven’t had a hot flash or night sweat (that I know of) in the last twenty-four hours and possibly more though it’s hard to notice with a killer vertigo attack occurring.
It will be nice to know a definitive diagnosis. I left with a preliminary diagnosis of premature ovarian failure which normally happens before forty, but since they don’t really recognize menopause in women my age because we’re by and large too young, that’s what he called it. His hope is that the hormones will help re-start my cycle. Apparently this is for the best. If not, it’s HRT for me until I get old enough to be in menopause, I guess. One thing is for sure, I can’t handle the estrogen crash and no one knows how to handle me when it happens either.
For now I just hope to keep feeling better. And I do feel somewhat better. My friends keep telling me that when I start the testosterone (next week) I will begin feeling a whole lot better. I sure hope that’s the case. Though I have enjoyed not giving a flying fuck about much of anything for the past couple of months and I intend to hold on to the finer points of that skill.
Though it has been hard being on a low-carb, low-sugar diet and not giving a fuck. You sorta have to give a fuck to change the way you feed yourself. I was doing pretty well. As of Sunday I had lost four whole pounds. Of course, the vertigo devil touched me later that day and I had gained back two of those pounds this morning. I think it may well be impossible for me not to comfort myself with food when I am sick.
For today though it’s back to the diet and I have to figure out how to get a rowboat to get me out to my car. The thunderstorms are vicious and we’re lousy with rain. The pressure changes aren’t doing anything to help my newly found vestibular stability either. If I were home, as I’ve been until today, I would take a nap and wait this barometric rollercoaster ride out, but a girl can only miss so much work before the mortgage beckons and the cupboards begin to offer up tapioca flour for dinner.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Missing In My Own Head
So it’s been a while. A long while it seems. Apparently I needed a break so I have essentially ignored any and all urges to blog. Those urges went something like, “I should blog,” then I would look around and do something else because really I have been majorly stuck inside my own head and even if I had opened a page nothing worth reading would have come out. Not that I’m saying this is worth reading, but you’re here reading so I may as well try.
Anyway, where was I? Feeding the wrong wolf. It’s something I’ve known for a while, but it’s really hard to feed the right wolf when the wrong one has his jaws clamped firmly around your throat and heart. Things have eased up the last few days and I’ve actually begun to catch glimpses of the good wolf again. Hopefully with the holiday and a nice long break from actual work responsibilities I’ll find the time and energy to nourish the good wolf.
The run up to the holiday has been difficult. I have struggled with that part of myself that tells me I must do and do and do. Thus I made a critical decision to do very, very little to prepare for Christmas this year. The eight underage nieces and nephews are all receiving a Christmas card with cash. I have shopped for exactly four people. My co-workers have been marked off the list of recipients of Christmas cards. I haven’t baked anything. The Christmas wrapping extravaganza consists of gift bags with tissue paper stuffed in the top.
I regret putting up the Christmas tree. I began to regret it about the time the first box was dangled over the hole leading into the attic. You might say that I’m not excited about Christmas. That would be true. More, I’m not excited about expending the energy it’s going to take to get through Christmas.
Though, somehow, my family has recently made it much easier. My mom is doing Christmas Eve and Miss A’s aunt is doing Christmas Day and all we have to do is show up with a dish. I don’t yet know how those dishes are going to get done. We may show up empty-handed and you know, after all I’ve done for everyone else through the years, I dare them to say a word because the wonderful thing about what’s going on with me is that I no longer have any compunction about telling someone exactly what I think. Hurting someone’s feelings doesn’t even really register anymore. If it’s the truth as I perceive it, then I’m not worrying about whether it hurts or not.
Anyway, I am sincerely hoping that the holiday break coupled with the appointment I have with a hormone specialist over the break is going to knock me out of this funk. It’s not like me to be so completely apathetic. If I could get away with quitting all my jobs and just lie in my bed all day long, I don’t think I would actually notice and this, my friends, is not good.
And this is why I haven’t been writing here at the blog. It’s depressing and really, why would you want to come here and read about my depressing life?
So in an effort to feed the good wolf:
1. I am thankful to be breathing
2. I am thankful that I have a job that helps to pay the mortgage and put groceries on the table and another job that I love
3. I am thankful that I have a smart phone that knows how to play Christmas carols so I can prepare for the holidays without considering anyone else’s happiness while I’m doing it
Anyway, where was I? Feeding the wrong wolf. It’s something I’ve known for a while, but it’s really hard to feed the right wolf when the wrong one has his jaws clamped firmly around your throat and heart. Things have eased up the last few days and I’ve actually begun to catch glimpses of the good wolf again. Hopefully with the holiday and a nice long break from actual work responsibilities I’ll find the time and energy to nourish the good wolf.
The run up to the holiday has been difficult. I have struggled with that part of myself that tells me I must do and do and do. Thus I made a critical decision to do very, very little to prepare for Christmas this year. The eight underage nieces and nephews are all receiving a Christmas card with cash. I have shopped for exactly four people. My co-workers have been marked off the list of recipients of Christmas cards. I haven’t baked anything. The Christmas wrapping extravaganza consists of gift bags with tissue paper stuffed in the top.
I regret putting up the Christmas tree. I began to regret it about the time the first box was dangled over the hole leading into the attic. You might say that I’m not excited about Christmas. That would be true. More, I’m not excited about expending the energy it’s going to take to get through Christmas.
Though, somehow, my family has recently made it much easier. My mom is doing Christmas Eve and Miss A’s aunt is doing Christmas Day and all we have to do is show up with a dish. I don’t yet know how those dishes are going to get done. We may show up empty-handed and you know, after all I’ve done for everyone else through the years, I dare them to say a word because the wonderful thing about what’s going on with me is that I no longer have any compunction about telling someone exactly what I think. Hurting someone’s feelings doesn’t even really register anymore. If it’s the truth as I perceive it, then I’m not worrying about whether it hurts or not.
Anyway, I am sincerely hoping that the holiday break coupled with the appointment I have with a hormone specialist over the break is going to knock me out of this funk. It’s not like me to be so completely apathetic. If I could get away with quitting all my jobs and just lie in my bed all day long, I don’t think I would actually notice and this, my friends, is not good.
And this is why I haven’t been writing here at the blog. It’s depressing and really, why would you want to come here and read about my depressing life?
So in an effort to feed the good wolf:
1. I am thankful to be breathing
2. I am thankful that I have a job that helps to pay the mortgage and put groceries on the table and another job that I love
3. I am thankful that I have a smart phone that knows how to play Christmas carols so I can prepare for the holidays without considering anyone else’s happiness while I’m doing it
Monday, November 21, 2011
The Edition Where I Need to Floss
Well, here we are mid-November and it’s forecast to be 74F today. Sigh… we’ve had what I will call whiplash weather the last couple of weeks. For a few days it will be winter, then it will be summer for a couple of days and then back to winter and so on and so forth until I think we’ll all have pneumonia.
Thanksgiving is coming. I’m alternately not looking forward to it and looking forward to getting it over with. We did the shopping for the feast Saturday and I spent most of yesterday in the kitchen prepping and cooking and getting ready. When I laid down in the bed last night I couldn’t help but feel like I’d spent the day doing something I enjoyed and at the same time was a colossal waste of time, which wouldn’t have been so bad except I didn’t enjoy it enough to waste the time.
And I’ve spent most of the weekend regretting that I didn’t take the entire Thanksgiving week off. Thus today I’ve spent trying to clear my schedule for the rest of the work week. One of these days I’ll quit being so thick and realize that for the price of three vacation days I can get ten days in a row off.
And lord knows I need it right now. I’m in PMS week. Yes, I said it, according to the calendar I’m in PMS territory. Yet, I’m not having any symptoms (other than tiredness, but that seems to be a constant state of affairs anyway) and I’m due by Friday. So either the maca is working or I’m in for another surprise. We’ll see. I just hope it holds off until after the Thanksgiving madness is over.
Speaking of madness, I hurt myself yesterday. It was all unintentional, but still, craziness. The first injury was to my left, middle back while I was pouring hot oil out of an iron skillet into a mixing bowl to finish up the cornbread. I was all, “Careful… careful… don’t spill this shit on you or anything else,” when, wham, my back spazzed out. I don’t know how I kept from dropping everything, but I managed to nurse it all back into place and get it to calm down enough that I later thought it would be okay to row.
The rowing went well. I pushed myself and rowed a bit further than I normally would. I finally found the calorie burn setting on the damn thing and that was great. So I got up off the rower and stretched a bit and then went on about my day. I had to help the dog up off the floor a little later and something hurt when I did that. The next thing I know my right arm is severely effed up. So not sure if it was the rowing or the dog or a combo, but I spent all night tossing and turning from one side to the other because everything hurt and when I’d finally get settled in a comfortable position, I’d have a massive hot flash. Sigh… the challenges… I have to be better by tomorrow because I’ve made an appointment with one of my clients who teaches Pilates on a reformer and I don’t want to be all messed up for that experience.
I haven’t lost any weight yet, but this morning was encouraging when I got on the scales. We’ve had a horrifying food weekend. Our trash can has things like doughnut boxes, chicken wing bones, and pizza crust in it. Oh and in the sink there’s ice cream bowls. Miss A drove her diet train right off the rails this weekend and I followed. With glee. Of course, I’m not really on a diet. I’m just trying to make some changes, like more activity, hence the rowing, and less sugar.
I don’t really eat doughnuts anymore they typically make my blood sugar go berserk and I feel like shit afterwards, but she bought some pumpkin spice cake doughnuts and OMG if you haven’t tried these things. Gah! And then there was pizza (now a vegetable according to Congress!) and wings as she finally gave up the no fast food fight with her mom and bought her Captain D’s on the way home from church. That put us at home all by ourselves at a meal time so we splurged on the really bad stuff. The ice cream is our yearly Spiced Pumpkin Pecan by Blue Bell. I haven’t eaten any of that yet. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it after all the other stuff I’d eaten yesterday. Tonight, maybe… But back to the scales, I haven’t gained any which is why my goal is more activity because my body is a champ at holding onto what it’s got.
Why the diet derailment? Well, Miss A retired Friday! Woo hoo! It’s been happy and sad at the same time. Today is her first day at home being retired. I left her a chore list. It said, “Don’t forget to feed the chickens!” Other than that, she’s on her own today. I envy her. I’m also a little apprehensive that I’ll never again have a moment to myself to recharge my introvert battery. But I suppose that’s a worry for another day.
If you’re wondering about her mom, there’s depression and crying jags alternating with she’s just fine. She refused to eat much of anything Saturday which is why she had Captain D’s yesterday. Pretty sure she had nothing but an Ensure and three bites of cereal Saturday. Yesterday was a better day, but Miss A and I agreed that we’re going to have to hire the service to sit with her over the lunch hour on Saturday from here on out to avert another disaster like Saturday. Either that or just move into her house with her. Sigh…
And then there’s forebodings of the paranoia that comes with dementia. Saturday her mom told her sister that we’d taken her wallet and we would have her cleaned out by the time we got back. None of it true and none of it believed, but nonetheless hurtful. We’re only seeing glimpses of the suspicion and paranoia yet. I dread when it hits full force.
Anyway, I mustache and find a piece of dental floss before this apple that has taken up residence between my front teeth kills me.
Thanksgiving is coming. I’m alternately not looking forward to it and looking forward to getting it over with. We did the shopping for the feast Saturday and I spent most of yesterday in the kitchen prepping and cooking and getting ready. When I laid down in the bed last night I couldn’t help but feel like I’d spent the day doing something I enjoyed and at the same time was a colossal waste of time, which wouldn’t have been so bad except I didn’t enjoy it enough to waste the time.
And I’ve spent most of the weekend regretting that I didn’t take the entire Thanksgiving week off. Thus today I’ve spent trying to clear my schedule for the rest of the work week. One of these days I’ll quit being so thick and realize that for the price of three vacation days I can get ten days in a row off.
And lord knows I need it right now. I’m in PMS week. Yes, I said it, according to the calendar I’m in PMS territory. Yet, I’m not having any symptoms (other than tiredness, but that seems to be a constant state of affairs anyway) and I’m due by Friday. So either the maca is working or I’m in for another surprise. We’ll see. I just hope it holds off until after the Thanksgiving madness is over.
Speaking of madness, I hurt myself yesterday. It was all unintentional, but still, craziness. The first injury was to my left, middle back while I was pouring hot oil out of an iron skillet into a mixing bowl to finish up the cornbread. I was all, “Careful… careful… don’t spill this shit on you or anything else,” when, wham, my back spazzed out. I don’t know how I kept from dropping everything, but I managed to nurse it all back into place and get it to calm down enough that I later thought it would be okay to row.
The rowing went well. I pushed myself and rowed a bit further than I normally would. I finally found the calorie burn setting on the damn thing and that was great. So I got up off the rower and stretched a bit and then went on about my day. I had to help the dog up off the floor a little later and something hurt when I did that. The next thing I know my right arm is severely effed up. So not sure if it was the rowing or the dog or a combo, but I spent all night tossing and turning from one side to the other because everything hurt and when I’d finally get settled in a comfortable position, I’d have a massive hot flash. Sigh… the challenges… I have to be better by tomorrow because I’ve made an appointment with one of my clients who teaches Pilates on a reformer and I don’t want to be all messed up for that experience.
I haven’t lost any weight yet, but this morning was encouraging when I got on the scales. We’ve had a horrifying food weekend. Our trash can has things like doughnut boxes, chicken wing bones, and pizza crust in it. Oh and in the sink there’s ice cream bowls. Miss A drove her diet train right off the rails this weekend and I followed. With glee. Of course, I’m not really on a diet. I’m just trying to make some changes, like more activity, hence the rowing, and less sugar.
I don’t really eat doughnuts anymore they typically make my blood sugar go berserk and I feel like shit afterwards, but she bought some pumpkin spice cake doughnuts and OMG if you haven’t tried these things. Gah! And then there was pizza (now a vegetable according to Congress!) and wings as she finally gave up the no fast food fight with her mom and bought her Captain D’s on the way home from church. That put us at home all by ourselves at a meal time so we splurged on the really bad stuff. The ice cream is our yearly Spiced Pumpkin Pecan by Blue Bell. I haven’t eaten any of that yet. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it after all the other stuff I’d eaten yesterday. Tonight, maybe… But back to the scales, I haven’t gained any which is why my goal is more activity because my body is a champ at holding onto what it’s got.
Why the diet derailment? Well, Miss A retired Friday! Woo hoo! It’s been happy and sad at the same time. Today is her first day at home being retired. I left her a chore list. It said, “Don’t forget to feed the chickens!” Other than that, she’s on her own today. I envy her. I’m also a little apprehensive that I’ll never again have a moment to myself to recharge my introvert battery. But I suppose that’s a worry for another day.
If you’re wondering about her mom, there’s depression and crying jags alternating with she’s just fine. She refused to eat much of anything Saturday which is why she had Captain D’s yesterday. Pretty sure she had nothing but an Ensure and three bites of cereal Saturday. Yesterday was a better day, but Miss A and I agreed that we’re going to have to hire the service to sit with her over the lunch hour on Saturday from here on out to avert another disaster like Saturday. Either that or just move into her house with her. Sigh…
And then there’s forebodings of the paranoia that comes with dementia. Saturday her mom told her sister that we’d taken her wallet and we would have her cleaned out by the time we got back. None of it true and none of it believed, but nonetheless hurtful. We’re only seeing glimpses of the suspicion and paranoia yet. I dread when it hits full force.
Anyway, I mustache and find a piece of dental floss before this apple that has taken up residence between my front teeth kills me.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Rejoining
So I haven’t written much lately even though there’s been a ton to write about. Mostly because I have not felt right for much of the last two weeks. The hormonal letdown that normally happens when my period starts never really happened and I have had no energy whatsoever.
I started taking an herb called maca around the same time I started. It’s purportedly an androgenic and supposedly can be used by your body to make the types of hormones your body is short of. So I’m not sure if this is the maca getting in there and changing things or if it’s my hormones continuing to be screwed.
What happened to the progesterone? Well, I never really could make up my mind whether I was going to start it this month or not and then I found myself in Birmingham at class this weekend and realized that even if I was going to start it this month I had missed the window so I decided to wait and see what happens with the maca.
I’m pretty sure I ovulated yesterday from the feel of things and we should be entering PMS land any day now. So keep your eyes and ears open, people.
The funny thing is today I finally feel like doing something other than putting one foot in front of the other. I did get more exercise yesterday than I have in a while, thanks to my new toy. It’s a FitBit and I got it for my birthday. It’s a souped up pedometer that is wirelessly connected to the internet where I can track my progress throughout the day. The biggest feature (in my mind) is the calorie expenditure feature on it. As long as I’m walking, running or climbing stairs it can tell me how many calories I’ve used. Hopefully this is going to finally get me on track to be able to lose a few pounds.
Of course, the energy burst (calling it a burst just seems wrong as it’s just not, perhaps a lessening of the desire to sit on the couch drooling or sleeping all day is a more accurate characterization) could be a by-product of realizing that for the first time in two weekends I’m going to be at home. Not that I didn’t love the wedding or enjoy the class I took, but I’m ready for some being at home time.
Right now I’m ignoring that Thanksgiving is upon us and plans are, as usual thanks to Miss A’s brother, still up in the air. I do know that there will be not much of a feast this year due to her mom’s salt prohibitions and my finally admitting that I can’t do it all and putting my foot down. What little plan I have is to cook a very small dinner for Miss A, myself and her mom. The rest of her family has been notified that if they intend to come, they need to bring what they’re going to eat. I know that sounds horrible, but with the amount of stress we’ve been under over the past year I think we’ve all surpassed being polite to those who continually use and take advantage.
We will be going to my family’s to see one of my nieces perform with the Moscow Ballet the day after Thanksgiving. I’m more excited about that than Thanksgiving holiday. Sad in a way consider that Thanksgiving is usually one of my favorites. This year though, I would cancel it if I could, Christmas too.
Anyway, I’m going to be “interviewing” for a teaching gig this afternoon. I say “interviewing” because it’s supposed to be more like a meet and greet than an interview. I was recommended by someone they apparently respect and since they’ve already had to cancel one class they’re somewhat desperate to get it back in the schedule. Apparently it’s a big money maker.
Of course, it’s pouring this morning, sheets and sheets of rain. I hope it lets up before I have to go try and find a strange building on a strange campus and then sit with several people I’ve never met before. I would hate to try and make a good impression while looking like a drowned rat.
So anyway, here I am, here I go, not sure when I’ll be back so just hang loose and breathe.
I started taking an herb called maca around the same time I started. It’s purportedly an androgenic and supposedly can be used by your body to make the types of hormones your body is short of. So I’m not sure if this is the maca getting in there and changing things or if it’s my hormones continuing to be screwed.
What happened to the progesterone? Well, I never really could make up my mind whether I was going to start it this month or not and then I found myself in Birmingham at class this weekend and realized that even if I was going to start it this month I had missed the window so I decided to wait and see what happens with the maca.
I’m pretty sure I ovulated yesterday from the feel of things and we should be entering PMS land any day now. So keep your eyes and ears open, people.
The funny thing is today I finally feel like doing something other than putting one foot in front of the other. I did get more exercise yesterday than I have in a while, thanks to my new toy. It’s a FitBit and I got it for my birthday. It’s a souped up pedometer that is wirelessly connected to the internet where I can track my progress throughout the day. The biggest feature (in my mind) is the calorie expenditure feature on it. As long as I’m walking, running or climbing stairs it can tell me how many calories I’ve used. Hopefully this is going to finally get me on track to be able to lose a few pounds.
Of course, the energy burst (calling it a burst just seems wrong as it’s just not, perhaps a lessening of the desire to sit on the couch drooling or sleeping all day is a more accurate characterization) could be a by-product of realizing that for the first time in two weekends I’m going to be at home. Not that I didn’t love the wedding or enjoy the class I took, but I’m ready for some being at home time.
Right now I’m ignoring that Thanksgiving is upon us and plans are, as usual thanks to Miss A’s brother, still up in the air. I do know that there will be not much of a feast this year due to her mom’s salt prohibitions and my finally admitting that I can’t do it all and putting my foot down. What little plan I have is to cook a very small dinner for Miss A, myself and her mom. The rest of her family has been notified that if they intend to come, they need to bring what they’re going to eat. I know that sounds horrible, but with the amount of stress we’ve been under over the past year I think we’ve all surpassed being polite to those who continually use and take advantage.
We will be going to my family’s to see one of my nieces perform with the Moscow Ballet the day after Thanksgiving. I’m more excited about that than Thanksgiving holiday. Sad in a way consider that Thanksgiving is usually one of my favorites. This year though, I would cancel it if I could, Christmas too.
Anyway, I’m going to be “interviewing” for a teaching gig this afternoon. I say “interviewing” because it’s supposed to be more like a meet and greet than an interview. I was recommended by someone they apparently respect and since they’ve already had to cancel one class they’re somewhat desperate to get it back in the schedule. Apparently it’s a big money maker.
Of course, it’s pouring this morning, sheets and sheets of rain. I hope it lets up before I have to go try and find a strange building on a strange campus and then sit with several people I’ve never met before. I would hate to try and make a good impression while looking like a drowned rat.
So anyway, here I am, here I go, not sure when I’ll be back so just hang loose and breathe.
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