Health stuff

 

So, my health is out of control.

I am 370 pounds and have really not gotten out of my bed for months, except to go to appointments or for a couple of hospital stays. I use a bedside commode and just kind of sit here all day on the laptop. It's not sustainable and things are about to change...I am in the process of changing health insurance providers with Medicaid. I despise United Health Care and all they stand for, but they will pay for bariatric surgery, which is an absolute necessity at this point, because nothing else is helping. Ozempic? I gained thirty pounds on it. Weight Watchers? Yeah, no. Etc.

So sometime in the next year, that's happening, come hell or high water.

I have a desk arriving today, and Lis (my daughter) will assemble it for me. It will be about eight feet from the bed, and I will be using the walker to get to it each day, get this carcass out of bed. Under the desk will be my little foot elliptical machine:

I will be setting an hourly alarm to use it for three minutes per hour at the beginning, and slowly work up to longer workouts. I also have exercise bands for my arms that I will be using hourly. This is the beginning of my weight loss journey. I can't go out walking, but I can build strength and endurance this way, right folks? Additionally, the commode will be for sudden urgency due to my IBS or lentil size bladder. If I'm not in an urgent situation, walker to the bathroom toilet, which will be all of ten or twelve feet away from my desk. So I will be moving my carcass regularly.

Lunch from now on is a nice big salad with sliced turkey lunch meat and oil and vinegar (my favorite!), along with a couple of rice cakes, which I actually enjoy. Breakfast is scrambled egg whites with swiss cheese and spinach, and a whole grain English muffin, and supper will be something sensible. When the family is having pasta, Jenn will have steamed zucchini with sauce, that sort of thing. I will allow myself one or two reasonable size sweet treats or junk treats per week (such as two cookies, one small cupcake, or a one ounce serving of chips or crackers), because otherwise I will go nuts and gorge in a fit of feeling denied.

I've also finally told my therapist that I want to work on my compulsive overeating habit. I want to get down to the roots of it, then obliterate it as best we can. I know when and how this began, and I will address that in the blog over time. Maybe it can help other folks, too.

I'm fucking done. I want to live, okay? And at the rate I'm going, I only have a couple more years. I am not going down without a fucking fight. Period.

So that's the state of things. I feel really motivated.

And what set this going was that while I was in the hospital, I was there alone. Sam couldn't get there to help me, and I was forced to do some things for myself, and I realized I am not as fucking broken as I have been treating myself. At one point I had to get out of the bed and walk about ten feet across the room to use the commode, then back again, and I did it without falling. It wasn't EASY, but I did it. And if I did it once, I can do it again.

I am determined.

For those wanting to assist me, all I ask is that you be encouraging when I post depression about the process, and cheer me on when I am doing well. Please don't nag. I don't respond well.

So I will see y'all in the funny papers, folks!