Quite a week. this past week.
Monday, I was in the middle of getting ready for work and thought, "I'm going to stay home." So I did.
Tuesday, I left work early for a doctor's appointment regarding my slightly swollen and sore left foot; I was weighed and discovered that, in my clothes I weighed 235 pounds. (This is up from 231 which I weighed five days before. I am too tired to expend a lot of energy being concerned about this. I console myself by thinking that this time last year I weighed 247. Also I noticed this week that my stockings are a little baggy.
I'd love to have a whole mess of energy and determination and be scaring the poop out of people by my amazing bursting forth with amazing weight loss and newfound strength. But I'm not there yet. I'm just not there yet. I've barely got a grip on sleep which for me is the foundation for doing everything else.
Wednesday morning, I was half an hour late for work because I had to stop off at the hospital for an x-ray of my foot.
Thursday and Friday, full days at work, somewhat subdued since it was the end of a week with a holiday weekend and some people were out.
Today, Saturday, I started the routine of unwinding from the week, wandering about the house, trying to find ways to expend as little energy as possible to do what needs to be done. Managed to vaccuum the living room and dining room, do some laundry, and read half of a manuscript of a novel sent me by a friend who is a good writer and wants feedback.
I also did grocery shopping and bought some lovely pork chops among other things.
So on we go . . .
It's Friday, and things are okay . . .
Went to my primary care doctor today to learn about the x-ray of my left foot taken last week. (For various reasons, I thought I might have a stress fracture, and the doctor I managed to see last week sent me for an x-ray.) No stress fracture; my doctor said the x-ray showed a bone spur on my heel. OLD news, not causing heel pain at all and not the cause of swelling and tenderness on the top of my foot.
I guess I have to look more seriously at how I'm sitting at work when I spend four hours hunched over my computer and how that affects the circulation in my legs and feet. And I have to get very consistent about elevation and icing. If nothing changes in the next two weeks, I'll go back to the doctor.
Meanwhile, last week, when I was weighed at the doctor's office, I weighed 235. Today I weighed 233.
I'm supposed to call for a general follow-up appointment in about a month. My doctor said, "We haven't seen you in a while; we need to see you so we can work with you." Something to that effect.
Probably because of the kind of discussion we had about my weight, which "seems to be going in the right direction." I mentioned having cheese as a snack, and she said, "You should have an apple instead; it has less fat." I've stopped eating chips and pie and cake and drinking sodas, and the issue is cheese?
I'm looking forward to a follow up in a couple of months because I will weigh still less. I should buy a brick of cheese just for snacks, and when she asks "what have you been doing," I'll say I've been having an apple a day . . . with Cheddar.
P. S. When a nurse weighed me and measured my height, she was in a hurry. She said, "Okay, height five nine." I said, "I don't think I've lost an inch in a week. I was five ten last week." She measured me again, and I was five ten. Really, where did I ever get the idea that medical professionals value accuracy? The older I get, the less it seems doctors and nurses really care about the things that have given them their mystical, god-like reputations. . . .
P. P. S. Okay, I personally know doctors and nurses that really care about their work and their patients. It's not fair for me to snipe. There are extenuating circumstances. I just don't know, I guess, how I ended up spending so many years thinking that doctors as a class and nurses as a class Know Important Things and Have the Power to Make Life Better . . . It's been hard to know what to do sometimes as a result of the realization over the years that they are just people and in some situations really don't know things I think they should.
My doctor is a teaching doctor at the university-connected, health-conglomerate-owned family health clinic I've been going to for years. She's busy with patients and residents and who knows who else. The clinic is hip-deep in people clamoring for some kind of attention. It doesn't make for a particularly focused, consistent environment. And since I haven't been consistent in visiting my doctor, we don't have what you'd call rapport . . . so it's a bit of a mess all the way around.
Last edited by entwyf; 09-07-2012 at 06:27 PM.
Today I wasn't very hungry. I had a pork chop for breakfast. I had trail mix at lunch (oh, no, peanuts). I had a big salad for supper.
Because I had yesterday off, I managed to offload a fair amount of stress, and today was a very nice, relaxing day. Today was the start of a new year for the Saturday volunteer job I have, working two hours a week with a group of Nepali people who want to improve their English.
I took a trip with a friend from church to Canandaigua, NY--an hour from Rochester?--to Lynch's Furniture--just a good furniture store, well-known in the area. I was a color consultant on the choice of upholstery. That was fun.
Today I think I did pretty well in terms of playfulness.
Good to be the turtle and not the rabbit . . .
I am 58 years of age and 75 pounds overweight, and I am NOT doing HIIT exercise. My experience of Primal is definitely not from the perspective of a young, fit, elite athlete who wants to be more fit and more elite. I am not charting and graphing anything, and I am going boringly, snoringly, glacially slow in my determination to be stronger and weigh less. And I am feeling very happy and blessed today to be taking my time and getting it done little by little . . .
This morning, I weighed myself and came in at 233, the same as last time. I see this as a good thing. At one point a couple of weeks ago, I was 231, but then I went back up to 235. Right now, I just want a clear downward trend. I am also encouraged by putting on my stockings and finding them loose at the ankles.
Don't know why, but my swollen and tender left foot--that way for about three weeks--isn't any more. It has just sort of gone away over the past week.
The only thing I can think is that over the past week I have been very consistent in taking fish oil and vitamin D3.
Had another exciting bus experience this morning. I ran a block, a short block, to catch the bus to work. I had just walked out of my driveway when I saw it pull up to the stop out on the main road my street connects to.
I decided I would make a run for it, even if it pulled away before I got to it. Providentially, the bus was waiting for a red light, and I got there only slightly out of breath.
I hesitated for a moment about running NOT because I can't run but because it is such an awkward experience. I have no clear sense of how my feet connect to the ground or to the rest of me. I'm not totally stiff, but I can feel that my feet and ankles and hips are not very flexible and responsive. And to try to move myself forward with all that lack of coordination, alternately looking at my goal and looking at my feet . . . what a mess.
But still, I made it to the bus. Cool.
Last edited by entwyf; 09-14-2012 at 06:26 AM.
Yesterday, I weighed in at 232. My stockings are definitely bagging at the ankles. I still look fat. My face still looks fat. But I feel tall and agile.
I feel as if my head and my feet are starting to get aquainted.
When I was a toddler, I spent the first two years of my life wearing a brace to help correct a congential problem--a poorly formed connection between my left leg and left hip. I didn't go through the unthinking, innate process of learning to crawl, walk, explore my environment, fall down and get up.
While other kids were forming brain patterns related to all that, I was exploring the world by observing with my eyes and by grabbing things within arm's reach. If I moved, it was because someone was carrying me.
After age two, I didn't have to wear the brace anymore, and I got into walking pretty quickly, but I never really engaged my environment with my body; the part of me that took the lead was my eyes and my hands.
Up until just recently, I never had a real feel for walking gracefully and confidently. I had a hard time walking unless I was looking at my feet. My feet never seemed a real part of me.
Oddly, I think having no chance to experience my world with my whole body has made it hard for me to do certain abstract things. I have always had trouble putting things in sequence. If I never learned the right way to put one foot in front of the other, how easy would it be to do other things "step by step"?
Tomorrow, I will be seeing a psychologist about testing for a learning disability called dyscalculia, a problem making sense of math and numbers. I hope that understanding more about this will enable me to make better sense of putting my feet, and the rest of my body in sequence as well.
I know the progress is glacial, but to me you seem fundamentally "happier" if you will. That is very cool. And one of the deepest levels of change. Awesome!
If you can google the crap out of this, try googling "Primitive Reflex Integration" and Sally Goddard Blythe; and also Vision Therapy - especially those accredited "FCOVD". This might be where you need to head re the not crawling as a toddler. My special-needs daughter does this, and it has been doing wonders for her.
The "primitive reflexes" are actually a defined set of reflexes that all newborns come into this world with, and as they grow (assuming nothing interrupts the process) these reflexes are subsumed by physical skills and other reflexes that are higher up on the developmental tree. There is a lot that can interrupt the process, and while humans who do not go through the entire sequence in order do grow up and walk and all that, there are a lot of gaps in the brain that are left behind - like dropped stitches in a piece of knitting - and that always leaves its mark in older child/teen/adult functioning.
The exercises are not painful or needing any special equipment or such - they just get in your head and reknit the disordered pieces. What you do need is someone who is qualified to diagnose (the disorders and also the necessary exercises because those who need them are individuals and have individual patterns of retained reflexes and such) and then follow your progress through your personalized series.
You could ask the psychologist, but don't expect too much knowledge - this stuff belongs to the world of PT/OT and the Visual Therapists (I know because my daughter takes ALL of it). In fact, a visit to a really good VT will astound you - they treat an amazing number of disorders with success - please go and read up on it. I think you will find much of help. I know I was absolutely bowled over when I did my own research/visits to a really good VT, and I thought I had seen pretty much most of what goes on in the therapy world...!
SO glad you are still plugging along !!
Monday Monday, can't trust that day . . .
Originally Posted by Crabbcakes
Wow. How timely your post is. Please note my report (below) on seeing the psychologist. All I can say is: AAAAAaaaarrrgh! A la the Hulk.
Crawling like a toddler: I read about it back in college, I think.
I have done it a couple of times recently just thinking it would help my back.
I am so deeply cynical right now about standard medicine and related standard other stuff; I really do need to take a day off work and just Google, Google, Google.
(I also seriously need to read back through a number of posts people have made in responses to my questions about a wonderful variety of non-standard solutions to things. MDA is such a packed resource; I wish I had the time to go through everything.)
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Yesterday, Monday, I went to an appointment with a psychologist, under the impression that my insurance would cover testing I wanted for a learning disability that I know I have had since the year dirt. I just haven't known its name (dyscalculia) until recently.
When I initially made the appointment and stated that I wanted to talk to someone about learning disability testing, I was NOT told that my insurance would not cover such testing. I was given an appointment.
Practically the first thing the psychologist said was that my insurance would not cover testing. So I basically wasted a $20.00 co-pay and sixty dollars in taxi fare.
Then, in a sort of bait and switch, the psychologist smilingly led along a verbal path to his conclusion that I was probably ADHD and could use Ritalin or its generic twin methylphenidate, and my primary care doctor could prescribe it. I was fascinated by this process, and since I had time to kill before my taxi would come back to pick me up, I waited to see how it would turn out.
He came to his Ritalin conclusion with no professional assessment whatsoever. Just some interesting and fairly useful but presumptuous statements about me and my brain.
*I* said that I had once seen a psychologist about possibly being ADHD, and I fit the profile, but I did not consider being a smart, creative, compassionate, problem-solver a case of having deficits; I saw it as an asset and believed (and do believe still) that such qualities are assets in the proper context (supportive school environment, job environment that meshes with learning and social style . . .).
And, well, okay.
*I* also said that I believed people should take medication if they had significant attention problems, but I tried to make it clear that, to me, a lot of Ritalin-takers (little boys acting like little boys in an environment that doesn't support little boy learning styles) should not be taking it.
However, in response, there was, on the psychologist's part, no formal, reliable, professionally accepted testing to see if I was indeed ADHD, no questionnaire of any sort, no notes made by him to support his conclusion that treatment with Ritalin/methylphenidate was warranted.
I will admit that I did learn something. It was fascinating to hear how Ritalin affects dopamine receptors in the brain stem in a more efficent way than things like coffee; it creates a sense of alertness without rapid heart beat and jitters.
Of course there was no referral by the psychologist for a test--because such a test does not exist--of my brain stem dopamine level to confirm that the level was below normal (who knows what that is) and needed a Ritalin boost.
Because I was still hoping for some kind of insight about having dyscalculia, I said to him that I wasn't sure how taking Ritalin could affect the parts of my brain that had to do with numbers and math, and he said that Ritalin affects the brain stem; if the brain stem isn't working properly, then it's hard to focus on whatever tasks one is doing. Yeah, but I don't need the ability to focus more on sucking at math . . .
From my perspective, once it became clear that I would not be spending a lot of money for learning disability testing, the psychologist pulled out a few verbal tricks to make me think he was helping me anyway with my issue of concern, He said I should let him know how things went if I decided to try Ritalin or its generic version. Then of course he shooed me out so he could see his next patient, and he promptly forgot me.
Last edited by entwyf; 09-25-2012 at 09:08 PM.
This morning, I got on the scale and weighed 230. Down ten pounds since July 11 (I think that's the day I got primally serious as I had not been before). My stockings this morning were officially baggy. Also, officially, my thighs (those of a delicate nature can turn away) no longer rub together when I walk. And this after a loss of only ten pounds. Obviously stuff going on. Such an encouragement after my really annoying Monday.
Now here's a wiggy problem . . .
About six years ago, I was diagnosed with Fuch's dystrophy, a disease of the cornea. I noticed blurry halos around lights at night and thought I was developing cataracts.
The dummy explanation I got about Fuch's dystrophy is that it occurs because cells that regulate water content in the cornea die off so that water builds up and doesn't drain out. The result? Blurred vision, halos, strong glare, pain, blisters on the cornea . . . just a fun fest of problems. There are delaying tactics--drops, contact lenses--but the bottom line seems to be that, once the water-regulating cells start dying off, they don't stop.
The supposed inevitable end point is corneal transplant. (Yay, thirty thousand a pop not covered by insurance and no guarantee that the transplant(s) wouldn't be rejected.)
My doctor basically said if I started having problems, there were things she could do. No big crisis mode from her.
My biggest issue since then: annoying floaters.
For six years, there have been no problems except halos at night. Recently I lost my glasses and haven't had time to get a new pair, and so I am more conscious of eyestrain, blurry vision, etc.
Now I am revisiting Fuch's dystrophy. Reading between the lines of several studies about it, it seems to me that, even if there is a genetic predisposition, the factors that trigger expression of this predisposition are pretty much rooted in two things: stress and diet.
One study I read talked about free radicals and oxidative stress playing a part in the development of Fuch's dystrophy. Why would they? What is it about the eyes that would be affected by, say, years of eating Doritos for lunch (which I used to do regularly before discovering Primal)? What is it about the eyes that would be affected by eating things like blueberries, carrots, kale, etc.?
I find it interesting that things don't seem to get bad with this until the fifties or sixties. Seems to me that middle age is when the body starts to crap out about a lot of things. If you eat a standard American diet, at a certain point, your body starts to cave in under the weight of all that junk.
Also, how much of any middle-aged ailment, serious or not so serious, is genetic legacy, and how much is genes getting messed up in the process of carelessly living one's life--genetic mutations specific to oneself?
Is it unrealistic to take an attitude that, having effed up my body in various ways due to SAD and conventional ideas about exercise and stress, I should be able to un-eff things to some extent by thinking and living outside the standard American health box?
Obviously, clean living and clean eating is not the answer to everything. But should I be freaking out more, or should I be freaking out less and learning about nutrition and lifestyle changes more?
Last edited by entwyf; 09-29-2012 at 09:59 AM.
Well, I ordered and got a bottle of astaxanthin capsules and a bottle of something with bilberry. Enough for three months. I will see what these can do for me.
I have started doing three things at night before bed: rolling back and forth on the floor, crawling around the dining room table and doing a primitive reflex exercise called the Lizard. When I finished last night, I felt what I would have called "car sick" when I was a child.
When I was little and brought books home from the public library, I couldn't not read in the car on the way home. Trying to focus while riding in a car always made me a little nauseous. My middle sister had it worse, though. Some times she would throw up.
However, today, I felt marginally less stressed and less conscious of the need to look at my feet to know where I was going and how my feet were connecting from the floor to the rest of me.
I have tomorrow and Friday off in honor of my birthday tomorrow. I hope to do a lot more moving and grooving.