One of my last patients of the day came in with an oxygen tank, her bald head wrapped in a scarf, and a positive attitude radiating from her tired body. I haven’t seen her since February. She was healthy then. Part of my job is to make sure that I don’t disturb my patients by registering negative shock when I see them in a different state than how I previously saw them. It took all I had to keep my smile from faltering as I watched a woman so full of life, lose just a little bit more with every step.
She’s having a problem with a cyst in her eye, but rather than talk about all of that nonsense, we talked about her treatments, her prognosis, how she was feeling in general. She woke up on May 31st with trouble breathing -out of nowhere. She went to the doctor and they figured it could be a blood clot in her lungs. They did a full body scan and found that she had Stage 4 Breast Cancer that had spread throughout her body into her lymph nodes, her back, her hips and her left leg. She has a port in her right hip, she has gone through the chemo. Hair fell out at week 2. She had both breasts removed, but laughed as she told me “I woke up with them bitches at 12 years old. Be gone, now!!” She said her husband told her he didn’t care that her breasts were gone, he didn’t care that all of her hair had fallen out, he was just glad that he still had her. She’s about to start radiation, but she said she is just borrowing time at this point. The cancer will eventually kill her, it’s just a matter of time. It breaks my heart, but she has been so positive about it. Even when I allowed my empath abilities to take over, I felt nothing from her but happiness and positive energy. It was inspiring. I wanted to hug her, but I knew that if I did, I would break down. I thought about how my uncle had beat leukemia in the 90’s only to turn around and be killed last year at 45 years old in a car accident. My patient told me that her prognosis is anywhere from two days to 10 years – they just don’t know. But man, she’s still fighting. Every smile, every breath, every step, she is fighting to live. That’s admirable. But make no mistake – this disease will be what kills her, most likely anyway.
She’s only 58 years old. This life is too damn short to waste it on dead-ends, broken promises. settling for things and people that don’t deserve you. We could all die at any time – we all have an expiration date. Do you want to go out of here having done nothing, having settled for someone that treats you like shit? I don’t think so. I don’t want to. You shouldn’t, either.
I haven’t updated much about my weight loss, because it had been on the yo-yo and plateau for a few weeks now. I wasn’t discouraged, but for that time I didn’t log my calorie intake. I still mentally kept track of what I was putting in my mouth, and I’m confident I didn’t overdo the calories during my plateau. My doctor also added a second Adderall pill for afternoons, since the effects of my extended release were wearing off around 12:30. So I take my extended release in the morning, and then at lunch time I take my regular one. It seems to be helping a bit with my energy staying leveled out until nighttime.
Over the past week, I’ve noticed a steady drop in my weight, so I know that my body is back on track and ready to go again.
June 19, 2016: Start Weight – 298
Current Weight: 267
Goal Weight: 190
14 Weeks In
Total Weight Loss: 31 Pounds
Pictures: July 17th to Today
And, as a reward to myself, I went and had my haircut last weekend. It was much needed. 🙂
Things are trucking along at a steady pace. No real complaints or exciting turn of events, which I am fine with. I’ve had my share of surprises in life, most of them not very good. I will take calm and happy any day of the week.
Lately I have taken to couponing. I find it relaxing and rewarding at the same time. I subscribed to the Sunday paper, which always has coupons in there. I cut them on Sunday mornings while I drink coffee and watch True Blood on Amazon. I also print from a website. It has become somewhat of a ritual for me. I invested in a coupon book to organize my stuff. On nights that my husband is watching something particularly nerdy and uninteresting to me, I will surf the grocery store websites and pick out the best deals for the coupons that I have. So far this week, one of our grocery stores has been doing super double coupons, where any coupon up to 2.00 will double at checkout. The other night I came home with free shampoos, mouthwash, vicks vapor rub, and hair dye for .49 cents.
My weight loss is still on its plateau, but I’m not letting it get me down. I’m content as long as I don’t start gaining. I still step on the scales every morning and I fluctuate around 3 pounds or so. I’m still eating correctly for the most part (about 95% of the time) and I put a step-counter on my phone so that I know how many steps I’m taking, and then I convert them to miles, and miles to calories.
Other than that, everything is the same. Work, home, cook, clean, rinse, repeat. I can’t complain at all.
This morning, after I got ready to go to the grocery store with my husband, I went into my closet and pulled out a pair of jeans that I haven’t even dared to try on in the past year, and I haven’t been able to wear in the pat two and a half to three years. I kept them with me “just in case” I’d be able to fit in them again one day. It was one of those ideas that made me sad, because I know how hard it is to lose weight, and I know how much I have been telling myself that I never will fit into those jeans again. But, I put them on this morning, and they buttoned. And they zipped. Granted, I have that whole “stomach over the top” thing because they aren’t high wasted and I still have a bit of a stomach, BUT … last year when I tried, I couldn’t even get them over my thighs. I call this major progress. I started at a US size 24. These jeans are a US size 18. My goal is to be a size 12.
That made me really happy. I feel like what I’ve been doing hasn’t been for nothing. Those of you that are on a weight loss journey, know how difficult it is to tell that you’re losing weight, unless you’re constantly snapping pictures of yourself. I had no idea I was at the point that I could get these jeans back on.
And I took another face shot for comparison to when I started this in mid-June.
As I’ve stated before, I could tell that my face was getting smaller, only because I put makeup on everyday, and something eventually started to feel different. When I contour on the weekends, I have to use my makeup brush to trace my jawline with one of the darker colors, and I have noticed that I’m actually able to define my jaw line instead of guessing around the fat.
I really hope that at this time next year, I will be at my goal weight. There are still really difficult days where I just want to eat everything absolutely disgusting for me.
Start Weight: 298 Pounds (June 19th)
Current Weight: 268.4 Pounds
Goal Weight: 198 Pounds
This week hasn’t been so bad. I stepped on the scale this morning and it read 268.4, which means I’m officially down 30 pounds in 6 weeks. However; I’m currently cramming about 700 calories worth of lunch into my face. I don’t think the scale will be as forgiving tomorrow. Yesterday I had breakfast and a late lunch of Moes burrito bowl with no rice (550 calories since I don’t like sour cream and all of that other crap), when I got home I just couldn’t eat anything. I felt so bloated and nasty, and there was no room for anything. So, I went to bed without dinner, but I’m not mad. I know my intake was too low yesterday, but oh well. I sure didn’t care when my intake was too high.
I was fixing my lunch a minute ago and my coworker said “You can really tell you’ve lost weight. Oh my god” and I just looked at her. She said “Look at your pants.” I looked down behind me and noticed my scrub pants are seriously, seriously baggy. Where the ass and legs go, it’s like parachute pants now. It even surprised me. As much time as I spend scrutinizing my body, I can’t believe I missed that. I told her that after I ate this chicken sandwich, my pants were going to get tighter. Ah, a little humor to hide the fact that I hate myself for wanting this frozen chicken sandwich. Oh well.
I was reading a book last night (one I finished in two days) that had some trigger points in it. The main character’s boyfriend was schizophrenic and tried to kill himself on several occasions. Now, I’m not schizophrenic, but the descriptions of this boy dragging blades across his skin, the thoughts that kept telling him he wasn’t good enough, he was a loser, nobody loved him, etc etc … it was just so difficult to read and not cry about it. How many people have felt like that? I know I wasn’t the only one at 15 dragging a knife across my arm. I wasn’t the only one hurting so deeply inside that I welcomed the physical pain to take over and simmer down the mental anguish. Watching the blood drip from my arm onto the carpet and laughing to myself when I realized that my narcissistic mother was going to kill me herself if I didn’t succeed at this. The mental hospital stay, the way my mom cried and sobbed and pointed fingers and made herself out to be this pristine woman who only loved her daughter, instead of the drug-addicted man-choosing whore that she was. Seriously, after her drug addict boyfriend destroyed our third house and pawned all of my stuff (down to my clothes), and I told her it was him or it was me, she told me to get out. And I did. At fourteen I had to live with my aunt because my mom refused to put her children first. And then she told everyone that I was the one out of control. And then she made me come back home after a month, because it was making her look bad to not take care of her kid. Even after social services were called on her, even after my brother and myself told our stories, she was deemed fit enough to take care of us. How? Why? It’s not fair. And so I took matters into my own hands.
But truth be told, I’m glad that I didn’t succeed. I wouldn’t have the amazing life I have now, because I wouldn’t be here to enjoy it. It wasn’t my time to go, and thank God I opened my eyes and saw the way to get out of the crap without destroying myself.