For Everything There is a Season

"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

Category: perseverance (Page 1 of 3)

The Jumbled Mess That We Call Life

September 21, 2016 / / 2 Comments

I signed a DNR  (do not resuscitate) order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

Life has gotten so messy and complicated so quick, it’s a bit staggering. One minute we’re having the time of our lives in Ireland and Northern Ireland and the next, the shit is hitting the fan. It’s almost like the world is playing a cruel joke on us by saying, ‘Here, go have the time of your lives, but be prepared because I am going to chew you up and spit you out when you get home!”

The reality is though, the world (or God) isn’t playing a cruel joke on us, that’s just life: highs, lows, and everything in between, all mixed up into this jumbled mess that one minute has you laughing and the next, has you crying.

As previously mentioned, shortly after we returned home, we got some disturbing news about a member of our family. And then we got hit with some unexpected financial expenses. Can someone please tell me why dental work and car tires cost SO much?? But, my husband and I still had our heads above water.

For me, my head started rapidly dropping below water when I went to my orthopedic appointment yesterday morning and I was told there are no other options to treat a severe problem (an osteochondral defect…if you have experience with this, e-mail me!) with my left ankle, except for surgery…a surgery that has a recovery period of up to six months-three months before I can even work or do anything resembling normal day-to-day physical activity.

I signed a DNR order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

Surgery is a nightmare for me. I had my gallbladder out last year and I cannot believe I even have to consider the thought of going through that again. To start with, I will have to come off the low-dose naltrexone I take for my Sjögren’s symptoms because it cannot be mixed with narcotics. And we all know I am definitely going to need narcotics, at least short term. Secondly, there is my previous history of blood clots. I am guessing that a pending surgery will require discussion with my hematologist, especially since I will be in a cast post-op and my blood clot risk will be high. And that means blood thinners, frequent blood work, and a lot of worry for me.

So I am doing what every patient who is trying to avoid surgery is doing: postponing scheduling the surgery until I can get a second opinion. Hopefully that will come soon since walking is quite difficult at the moment.

I signed a DNR order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

This morning’s doctor appointment had me subsequently going to the hospital for multiple x-rays of my back. Right after we arrived in Ireland, I started getting episodes of numbness on one side of my upper back. That was in addition to the pain I’ve been getting in my tailbone and sacrum for months now. Pain that the doctor keeps telling me will eventually go away. We went back and forth about cortisone shots this morning. She wants me to get more shots, this time under fluoroscopy, so we can get deeper into the small areas around my tailbone. I want an MRI to see if we can find out if something scary is going on in there. She says no. But, she does agree to x-ray the part of my back having numbness and sends me off to physical therapy to try and straighten my crooked sacrum out.

I don’t have the energy right now for physical therapy.
But, I’ll go because I think it might help.

So many decisions to make.
So many complicated conversations to have.

Does anybody appreciate how hard it is to stay focused in these long medical conversations when one is feeling overwhelmed? I know some of you certainly can.

But see, I can typically handle all this medical drama. And I can handle it pretty well, with a lot of grace. I am warrioresque like that.

I’m out of grace this week.

Why?

Because I had to sign a DNR order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

Two nights ago I was sitting on the couch with my husband watching TV. Molly came over, put her head on the couch, and looked at me in a way I haven’t seen before. A look that said, “something is wrong with me.”

She’s fifteen years old. I was told about five years ago that she has a leaky heart valve, tricuspid valve I think it is. My husband and I both knew that she hasn’t been feeling so hot recently. She gets more fatigued on her walks and the heat/humidity we have had lately here in New England has been tough on her. She was panting more than usual. But overall, she looked content and I had made a promise to her, and myself, that I would not go to extraordinary measures to keep her alive at this point.

But what exactly does “extraordinary” even mean??

Yesterday morning I woke up and noticed my husband and Molly weren’t in the bedroom. I got up and my husband, Chuck, came upstairs with Molly. He had taken her down to our spare bedroom during the night to sleep because she was breathing too heavily and he was up most of the night with her. However it was one of those things where it came and went.

Because I had that doctor’s appointment about my ankle I could not miss and he had to go to work, he took her to work with him. She initially looked better, but then every time he took her outside, she would be short of breath and excessively panting again.

I met him at his work after my appointment and called the vet. She was in surgery all day and I was told to bring her in the next morning or if I thought she couldn’t wait, to take her to the E.R.

And that was where I spent the rest of my day.

It was hard, really hard.

They took her right in and checked her out. I got to fill out forms while I waited. I took my forms, sat down, and saw the form where I have to decide if needed, if I wanted her to have CPR. But at least they respectfully put the price of the CPR in parentheses next to the word “resuscitate.” There are different prices depending on how much life support you want them to perform.

You have to be kidding me.

And then the tears came. I knew we were going to face this eventually, but no matter how much I have tried to mentally and emotionally prepare myself, my heart started to slowly shatter into little pieces. A kind looking woman handed me tissues. Her gentle act of kindness was enough to help me pull myself together long enough to check the box for DNR.

Breath, Chris, breathe.

You promised you wouldn’t let her suffer or keep her alive just for your own sake.

Have I mentioned Molly has been my constant companion for twelve years and one of the two loves of my life?

About an hour later I got an update. The doctor thought her breathing was stable. She didn’t see the breathing distress that my husband and I had witnessed. I told her it comes and goes. She tells me her oxygen levels and vital signs are good. Can she have my permission to start an IV, just in case? I give it to her. She also asks for permission to do a chest x-ray and some blood work. I give her that as well.

How much is too much?

When do we decide enough is enough?

I sit there and decide we need to know what is going on and what we are facing. Maybe this is simply a case of pneumonia that can be adequately treated with antibiotics. Yes, let’s do the chest x-ray and labs…see what happens. Maybe even a cardiologist to further figure out what exactly is wrong so we can make her as comfortable as possible with medications. But it’s OK I tell myself, it won’t come to that. The doctor said her physical exam was unremarkable.

It comes to that.

Three hours later, I am brought back in. I am shown the x-rays. Her heart is enlarged, very enlarged. Possible congestive heart failure is mentioned. There are shady areas on her lungs, not tumors, but possibly pulmonary hypertension. I’m a nurse. I know what terms are bad and which ones still contain a shred of hope. To add insult to injury, the doctor took a quick peek at her heart valves. They don’t look none too good either, but I am told that they only way to know for sure is to see a cardiologist and have an echocardiogram done.

How much is too much?

This doctor is amazing. She explains everything in a way that I think should be a model for every doctor and vet in this country. She is not overwhelmed with my questions. She is patient. And she is kind. She asks me about starting Molly on two different medications for her heart and I agree. That was pretty much the point of me bringing her in, to make her comfortable.

I run through my checklist in my head. I developed this checklist sometime last year when I saw how much Molly was slowing down. It’s a guide of sorts to help me (us) determine when we are at the endpoint…

* Is she in pain or distress? No to the pain and the heart meds should help with the breathing distress.
* Is she eating? Yes, very well.
* Can she walk well? Yes.
* Does she enjoy something in her life that she’s always done? Yes, playing with her babies, going for car rides and to the park, spending time with us, cuddling.
* Can we afford her vet bills? Yes, despite the fact they are a killer and we will have to re-prioritize some things.

So, a plan is developed and we are homeward bound, both of us much more fragile than when we arrived. As I am driving home I think about one of the owners and his dog who were in the waiting room with me. I am pretty good at reading people and the read on this man was that this dog was everything, and everyone, to him. You could see it in the way he handled him. There are infants that I haven’t seen handled so gently and talked to so lovingly. If I couldn’t see and was in another environment, I would have thought it was a baby he was talking to.

I overheard the man talking to another woman. I couldn’t believe the amount of serious diagnoses the poor dog had. He sees NINE different specialists. Then I looked over at the dog and I actually had to watch for his breathing because otherwise you couldn’t tell he was alive. He was so listless and it appeared to me, he was barely existing.

Certainly not my place to judge, but it made me realize that was not the condition I wanted Molly to live in. She sees a cardiologist Friday and I am hoping she does the echocardiogram the same day so we can get a handle on knowing what is going on and so we can have conversation and make some decisions what how far we want to take her and at what point we will say enough is enough.

That is life, one big jumbled mess. You never know what the next day, or even hour, is going to bring you. It may bring you to the most beautiful mountains and valleys of Ireland. It may bring you to the heart wrenching decision of checking off that DNR box. Sometimes, you just have to hang on tight and pray your way through the day. Or, stay present in the moment you are in and remember to do the next right thing.

Life can hit us in a way that requires us to weave through it one important decision at a time….one moment at a time.

As I finish this up, I realize that after  a ten hour day, I am done for today. There is nothing else so urgent that it cannot be looked at tomorrow. So I am doing my next right thing for myself and curling up on the makeshift dog bed in the living room with Molly. And, I am going to hang on tight.

2014 Boston’s Run To Remember

May 31, 2014 / / 2 Comments

I am getting my stuff together for tomorrow morning’s 5K race, and it dawned on me that I never did a race report from our big weekend last week. I kept meaning to, but it was a hectic week as our kitchen is in the process of being remodeled, we are trying to get ready for a graduation party next weekend, and I was feeling lousy and ended up being treated for a sinus infection. Craziness!

So last weekend was something my husband and I had been looking forward to since last year. I found out about the 2014 Boston’s Run To Remember,which is a race held every year in honor of fallen law enforcement officers, when searching for races on the internet. The proceeds from the run go to a charity and this year monies were being given to youth programs in Boston. There were two events, the half-marathon and the 5 miler. We decided to do the 5-miler because at this point, that would be my second longest distance ever run.

Because the event fell the weekend after our anniversary and we live almost two hours away, we decided to reserve a room at the Park Plaza in Boston for the night and go to one of my favorite restaurants, The Barking Crab, for dinner on Saturday, as the race was on Sunday. We left for Boston Saturday morning and stopped at Castle Island in South Boston. It’s a neat place. There is a fort and a walking trail (HarborWalk I think it is called), as well as a park. My favorite thing to do there was stand on the edge of the harbor and watch the planes fly in and out of Logan Airport.

We checked into our hotel and decided to walk the 1.8 miles to the Seaport World Trade Center which is where the race expo was being held. I am not sure how much I mention this on my blog, but I am obsessively in love with Boston; always have been and always will be. My dream is to someday rent/own a condo in Bay Village and live there for at least a year. That is why we walked to the World Trade Center, instead of taking the subway. It was a beautiful day and the walk brought us through several different neighborhoods in Boston.

I had not been to the Seaport district before, despite our many trips to the city and I loved it. Anytime you can stand in a city and smell the ocean, it’s all good by me! This was our first running/fitness expo and I was pretty psyched for it. There were a lot of different products and I was excited to see my favorite headband company, Bondi Bands, selling their stuff. We also left there with some new chia energy bars and a pair of running sunglasses that I have been looking for. I enjoyed the different displays they had up listing the names of all the fallen officers in the entire state of Massachusetts, as that was the real reason we were there. We also picked up our bib numbers, race packet, and t-shirts. I have heard other people say that as far as running expos go, it wasn’t the best, or the biggest, but I have nothing to compare it to, so it was fun for me.

We then made our way next door to the restaurant, Whiskey Priest, and enjoyed a drink on their outside deck, overlooking the harbor. Then we walked back to our hotel. Of course by this point, I realized that my feet hurt from walking about five miles that day, which I said I was NOT going to do and by the time we were ready to leave for dinner at the Barking Crab, I could barely walk. Did I mention that I was supposed to run five miles that next morning?!? So, a cab it was! Dinner was great, as expected, and then back to the hotel we went.

The race was scheduled to start at 7am the next morning. Because of increased security measures and screening due to the Boston Marathon bombing last year, we decided to leave the hotel at 5:30am, which meant a wake-up call for me at 4:30am in order to get all my morning medical stuff done and so I could do some trigger release work on my legs before the race. We took a cab to the World Trade Center because the subway’s red line did not run that early on Sundays and we thought it best not to walk there. We did get there much too early (5:45am) and we breezed right through security. I think for next year, getting there for 6-6:15am will suffice, as that was right before the crowds started rolling in.

This was a big race for us, the biggest crowd we have run with: between 12-13,000 runners for both the half and the 5 miler. It was a younger running crowd  in general and a lot of fit looking and thin runners. I mention this because I am still a bit self-conscious about racing as an overweight runner. I definitely do not have a typical runner’s body, but lately when I start dwelling on this fact, I just keep reminding myself that I used to be 60 lbs. heavier and because of my illness, could barely leave the house most days, or even the couch. That seems to do the trick!

We started at the back of the pack which honestly ticked off my husband a little bit. He wanted to be more in the middle, because he wanted us to fully experience the crowd and he thought it would be a better experience. But I know that I am a slower runner and it is easier for me mentally to be towards the back so that I don’t feel pressured by people constantly passing me. One of my biggest race mistakes has been starting off too fast and then struggling to finish. This had to be my way in order for us to succeed.

Before the gun went off, the National Anthem was sung and Amazing Grace was played on the bagpipes in tribute to those who have died in the line of duty. It was very touching and also amazing because I have never been anywhere with 12,000+ people who have all of a sudden fallen completely silent. It was a moment I won’t forget.

We started off on our way and I have to say, it was utterly amazing. You start off on Seaport Blvd. headed towards downtown. I love the Boston skyline and here I was me, Christine Molloy, RUNNING into the Boston skyline!. So surreal. I made sure we started our pace off slow and did my typical run/walk combination. I had stopped using a timer to do run/walk intervals about a month or two ago and instead, started listening to my body. This seems to be working well for me.

The course then took us through Post Office Square, Faneuil Hall, Government Center, Charles Street, Beacon Hill, Boston Common and the Public Gardens, Chinatown, Financial District, and then back to Seaport Blvd. That was for the 5 miler. The half marathon runners separated from us at about Mile 2.5 and headed towards Storrow Drive.

I thoroughly enjoyed this race course. It helped that the weather was cooler and there was no sun, which for me and my autoimmune stuff, is a really good thing. The course was relatively flat, with about four hills. They were decent hills, but very manageable and most importantly, short! It was the coolest thing for me running through these various neighborhoods, while hearing all the spectators cheering us on. My husband ran with me and to be honest, that did help push me harder when all I wanted to do was collapse. Our goal was to finish the five miles in 1:15:00, so one hour and fifteen minutes. In this race my biggest challenge was not my muscles and joints, but rather my breathing. Allergy season has hit me harder this year than like none before, so that was a bit tough, but persevere we did!

This race was also a very well run and organized one, There were a ton of volunteers and plenty of water/Gatorade stops along the route and I was grateful for that. The course was clearly mapped out along the way and there was a ton of encouragement among the runners and spectators.

I started to really struggle around Mile 4, but I knew we were going to be turning the corner back onto Seaport Blvd. very shortly. The crowds grew bigger and I was determined to make sure I walked less and ran more. I knew we were definitely not last as there were quite a few runners behind us and I pushed harder because I always like to finish strong. By this point I was doing some running with my hands lifted up and locked behind my head because my husband said that it would help me to expand my lungs more, which it did. The great thing about races is that I have found that people cheer MORE for those towards the back, because they know it is probably harder for them.

Thank you to every single spectator that cheered for us. It made such a difference!

Then, I saw it.

A medal.

One of the runners who had already finished was wearing a medal!

And then I saw another. I didn’t realize that they were giving out finisher medal for this race. My husband and I always joke about how it will take forever for me to earn a finisher medal because in New England, they only seem to give them out for half and full marathons, unless you are a winner. And I knew it was going to take me a while, if ever, to run a half marathon.

As we ran the home stretch, I pushed even harder to earn my medal. We approached the finish line clock and I saw the time….

1:14:30.

Oh my God, we were so close to meeting our goal, there was no way we could miss it! So what’s a girl to do? Start sprinting of course…all 190 lbs. of me. Sprinting like it was nobody’s business and like I was a Kenyan runner. So did we make it?!?

Yes! Right before the clock hit 1:15:00.

Except as has happened before, I forgot one thing…

We had started in the back. Which meant that we started approximately five minutes away from the start line and actually had a better time than 1:15:00!

Official time: 1:09:48. It was the first race I have ever run a pace under a 14-15 minute mile. Race pace was 13:58 minute mile. I placed 255/274 in my age group and 175 people finished after us. A great improvement from my first race (5K) on Jan. 1st when we came in last.

After we crossed the finish line, we walked down the chute towards the water, snacks, and medals. I was bawling like a baby…quite unexpectedly actually. I was trying to make myself stop so all the medics staring at me wouldn’t think something was physically wrong, but I just couldn’t help it. The only other time I had cried after a race was when I teared up a bit after my very first race Jan. 1st; but nothing like this. I was just so overwhelmed with emotion from the morning.

I pulled it together, but of course started again when the volunteer put the medal around my neck. Yes, it was a finisher medal and not an award medal, but I didn’t care. I have been training and working so hard on this. The same woman who two years ago, was partially paralyzed from Guillain-Barre, and the same woman who has fought overwhelming physical obstacles to get to this place and this moment in time. That medal signified the overcoming of every ache, pain, and obstacle I have had in the past several years.

It was my tangible representation of perseverence and courage.
It was my “to hell with you Sjögren’s” medal.
Now, it will be my constant visual reminder of exactly what I am capable of.


To Scoot Or Not To Scoot, That Is The Question

September 4, 2013 / / 7 Comments

I have had a difficult decision to make ever since my husband and I booked our honeymoon to Disney; which is in less than three weeks. To the average person it may not seem like a big deal but to me, it has been this gut wrenching decision that has taken me months to make and come to terms with. The decision I was struggling over was whether or not to rent a scooter to use during the eight days we are down in Florida at Disneyworld.

Most people I have talked to regarding this decision do not understand why I would even consider NOT renting a scooter considering the physical issues I have with arthritis, fatigue, and the difficulty I have with extreme heat and sun. To them, it seems like a no-brainer. And in some aspects it is a no-brainer. If you Google “scooters” and “Disney”, you will see that the use of scooters in Disney is rampant. A whole other topic for another day. It’s not like I would be doing anything unusual. Rent the scooter and just use it. Disney is huge. Why stress out over it?

I have never used an assistive device during all these years that I have battled extreme pain and fatigue. Not once. I have been on vacations and day trips. I have struggled at times to even get through a short shopping list at Stop and Shop where by the way, they do have scooters. I am not against scooters, wheelchairs, canes, walkers, or any other assistive devices. I know people who need them and use them. But I do not use them.

It is not because I do not physically qualify to use something like this at times because anyone who knows me knows that I certainly have had periods of time over the past five plus years where an assistive device would have been most helpful; especially a scooter. At first I thought it was just a pride thing or that I was worried what people would think when they looked at me using a scooter. I have this invisible illness which means that I typically look well on the outside and feel horrible on the inside. But then I realized that it is so much more than that. My desire and determination to intermittently not use an assistive device is due to one emotion and one reason: fear. I am scared to death.

I am scared to death that this autoimmune illness I have will progress. That someday I will be dependent on an assistive device to be able to go out into the world or even to function in my own home. I am scared to death because I have had so many different body systems affected by this illness that someday, it will get the better of me. I fear that I will end up in kidney failure or with neurological impairment that will prevent me from walking. I fear that I will be one of the Sjogren’s patients who develops Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Or pulmonary hypertension. Or end-stage liver disease. These are not unrealistic fears. Although not as common as some of the other Sjogren’s symptoms, they do happen. People do die. So to me, needing to use a scooter at Disney feels like I am giving in to my illness.

To be honest, this position I have taken for myself about using assistive devices has served me well over the past several years. Has it caused me more pain? Sure. Has it sometimes limited what I can go out in the world and do? I don’t think so. But I do believe with my whole heart that pushing myself in terms of my mobility has made a positive impact on my lifestyle. I am a big believer in using what you have and also in the idea that you lose what you don’t use. I know there are people who have no choice in whether they use an assistive device or not. I have that choice. And I believe that if I had made a different choice, I wouldn’t be as active as I now am on some days.

This decision has been complicated by the fact that I got a sense from my husband that he was not on board with this whole scooter at Disney thing. And before anyone goes jumping down his throat about this, it has taken some heart to heart discussions between us to get to why I was getting weird vibes from him about it. (Disclaimer: I have his permission to publicly blog about this.) Of course I don’t need his permission in my decision about whether to use a scooter or not but I do value his opinion and it was important to me to hear his thoughts. I also felt like I needed his support on this. Come to find out, the weird vibes I was getting were accurate. My husband eventually told me that even though he wants me to do whatever I feel I need to do, that he felt like renting a scooter would be giving in to my illness. Same exact thoughts I was having.

But here’s the thing and this I know with absolute certainty: I’m a fighter. I have never given in to this illness. There are times where I have been accepting of the illness and the limitations it has imposed on me but I would not call that giving up or giving in. I also know that many, if not most people reading this, have no idea of what I go through on a daily basis just to function. Although my husband has a pretty good idea, he still cannot physically feel what I feel. He does not know every single instance I have pushed through when I should have been home in bed. Nobody does but me. And that is how I prefer it to be because I don’t want my life to be a series of verbal complaints coming out of my mouth about how lousy I feel.

I remembered a similar decision I was trying to make a few years ago regarding applying for a handicap parking placard. Similar thought process. A good friend told me that I should get the placard and if it made me feel better, only use it when I absolutely had to. She must have told me this on several occasions and finally I got one. And as I was making my scooter decision, I thought about all the times I got myself to the store, the doctor, or to a much needed social event just because I could use that handicap placard and park closer to my destination. I thought about how during those times, I had more energy to complete my errands or enjoy my time out with friends because of the placard.

Why would Disney be any different? Say for example it’s Day Two of our trip. It’s 5pm and we have spent a majority of the day at Animal Kingdom and we are now resting back at our hotel. And my husband and I want to go Downtown Disney to try one of the many restaurants there that we have been talking about for the past year and a half. But my joints hurt so bad and I am so exhausted that I cannot fathom getting out of the bed and leaving the hotel room. But wait, there’s my scooter. So my choices are, postpone Downtown Disney until a different day and hope that I am feeling better or not give in to my fears and take the scooter to dinner.

Have I mentioned that this is our HONEYMOON?!?

So I have rented a scooter for the week that we are at Disney. Why? Because I have decided that the possibility of enjoying our honeymoon more fully AND making the experience better not only for myself, but for my husband, is much more important than giving in. I’m not talking about the giving in to the illness, but rather the giving in to my fear. Because not renting/using a scooter and then not being able to do what I (we) want to do IS letting the illness win. It is taking a gamble on letting this thing called Sjögren’s dictate how we are going to enjoy this precious time together. That is not acceptable to me. Because like I said, I’m a fighter.

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If anyone out there has any experiences with using a scooter in Disney, please share your experiences in the comment section below. I am open to hearing about both good and bad experiences because your experiences could help me to have a better one. Thank you.

Making Love Last A Lifetime

November 7, 2012 / / 1 Comment
 
Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads which sew people together through the years. ~Simone Signoret

On November 7, 1970, two people pledged their love and commitment to each other. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health.

My mom and dad.

Today, they celebrate forty-two years of marriage. Forty-two years. Can you imagine? I can’t. Maybe because in order to achieve that, my fiance would have to live until he is ninety-seven and I would have to make it until I am eighty-four. Heck, I can’t even picture fifty years old at this point!

But those two people, once in their early twenties, have made it that long and I hope and pray that they make it many more years together.

Like most marriages, their marriage has not been perfect. There have been many arguments and conflicts. There were multiple job losses and sleepless nights. The early years brought very difficult financial times, including standing in line at the A&P supermarket with their food stamps; trying to do whatever it took to keep their heads above water.

Despite the fact that both my brother and I are divorced, we both learned a lot from my parents during those early years and from the years since then. I can’t really speak for him, but they have taught me that marriage is a true partnership. They have demonstrated that with this partnership and a strong work ethic, it is possible to make a better life for yourself and your family. I am proud of how far they have come since those early years.

There have also been a lot of scary moments. A car accident and open heart surgery for my dad. Ovarian cancer and breast cancer for my mom. Moments that caused chaos and rattled the very foundation of our family. Moments that also strengthened their love as a couple.

Until recently, my mom has always been the talker and the emotional one in the partnership when it came to my brother and I, while my dad tends to be more reserved with his feelings. Most of the news and information in the family tends to go through my mother. I think that is true for a lot of families in that generation (they are in their sixties) but yet, when I sit here and think of the expressions of love I have verbally heard expressed in reference to each other, it is my father’s voice that echoes the strongest with me.

The year was 1997. After I had been in remission from a cancer diagnosis, my fiance at the time had suddenly broken off our engagement and relationship. Since we lived in what was originally his house, I went to live with my parents until I could figure out what I was going to do. He had told me that he had realized he had never really loved me. I was emotionally devastated. I remember floating in my parent’s backyard pool telling my dad this and how maybe my ex was just confused and would eventually come to his senses. I know, I know. I was being foolish. My father just looked me straight in the eye and said “Chris, when you love someone, you don’t say things like that. I have never ever told your mother I do not love her.You don’t do that.”

Simple yet profound words.

It has been interesting to watch my parent’s marriage evolve over the years since my brother and I have left the house and especially since they have retired. It seems like in a way, they have renewed the romantic part of their marriage. My mother refers to my dad as “her love” on Facebook and my dad was proudly telling me yesterday on the phone about the large bouquet of flowers he thought to order for my mother to celebrate their anniversary today. All I can say is, “who stole my parents??”

Maybe it is because there is no longer the chaos and stress of working full-time jobs and raising children. Perhaps it is because they now have more time to appreciate each other rather than trying to figure out how to just get through the day and pay the bills. Whatever it is, it makes me happy. It makes me happy to see that despite the odds and despite the challenges this world presents to us every day, true love can win out and last a lifetime.

Thank you mom and dad.

Diet and Exercise Update

July 25, 2012 / / 7 Comments
“Take care of your body with steadfast fidelity. The soul must see through these eyes alone, and if they are dim, the whole world is clouded.” ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I realized this week that it has been six months since I made the drastic change to eliminate all gluten and dairy from my diet. Wow, six months! I think that is the longest I have ever stuck with a change in my eating habits. I can honestly now say that it is much easier than it was when I started back in January.

People ask me from time to time if I think that eliminating gluten and dairy from my diet has helped my autoimmune symptoms. It has not eliminated the symptoms but at this point, I feel that it has helped. On a few occasions I have intentionally eaten something with gluten or dairy in it and I have noticed a change for the worse either in my level of joint pain and/or in my asthma symptoms. In addition to that, I never have any gastrointestinal issues at all anymore and my menstrual cycle is much more tolerable.

I have become frustrated with this eating plan at times, most notably when I came off of my last round of steroids and my joint pain immediately came back. I sat and wondered why the heck I was making my life more challenging by eliminating gluten and dairy when I was still having joint pain. The point that I was missing at the time though was that the joint pain was not as severe.

One of the biggest advantages that I have found with living a gluten and dairy-free lifestyle is the changes it has forced me to make in my eating habits. Changes that have positively affected my health, weight, and overall well being. For example, I have to plan out and think about what I am going to eat. Gone are the days of impulsively shoving something in my mouth because I am either hungry or because I crave a particular food. The options available to me at fast food joints and restaurants are much fewer and therefore I am spending much more time at home cooking meals from scratch which means healthier meals.

Many people say that eating gluten or dairy-free, as well as organic, is much more expensive but I would have to disagree. Yes, my food bill is more each week but it does not compare to the amount of money I save by not swinging by Subway several times a week or eating dinner out more than once every other week. I have also found that unless it is a homemade food, gluten-free products such as bread, muffins, etc. tend to be much more unhealthy and filled with more preservatives than non-gluten products. This has resulted in eating these items once in a great while and instead I choose whole foods such as fruits, vegetables, lean meats, nuts, and whole grains.

The second big change I made in my diet was making the decision to start the Weight Watchers program. This has literally been a godsend for me. I have found the program to be much more “whole foods” friendly than it used to be and I enjoy the fact that in addition to going to weekly meetings, I can also use their online program which enables me to work the program from my laptop or cell phone. I have found a meeting I really enjoy on Tuesday afternoons. Adding a Weight Watchers program to my gluten and dairy-free lifestyle has been a challenge but well worth it. Since my birthday, which was May 3rd, I have lost eighteen pounds. If you add that to the weight I have gradually lost over the past three years, my body is now fifty-five pounds lighter. Oh yeah.

I continue to go to the gym anywhere from four to six days a week. Exercising has become a more difficult task since coming off prednisone and sometimes I just want to say “the hell with it” and quit. But I don’t. I am committed to changing my life and I cannot let joint pain, fatigue, and migraines get in the way of that. I have however changed some of my routine around and have cut back on the length of time I am exercising until I can get my symptoms more under control. I have started taking Pilates classes which was a big step for me and I am in love with it. Right now my exercise regime consists of Pilates, water aerobics, lap swimming, the cross trainer, and rowing. My goal is to be able to increase the time of my workouts and try some other different classes once my joint pain has improved.

I love to exercise. Shocking but true. For most of my life it has been a chore and something I dreaded doing; when I did do it. It is different now though. It is a necessity for me mentally as well as physically. I have worked hard to find activities that are not only safe for my joints but also fun. Despite the physical challenges that I still have, every week I find that my body is getting stronger. Every time I swim a lap in the pool of sit on the mat in a Pilates class, I feel like I have more control over the body that I have spent so much time cursing.

My hope is that as I continue to lose weight and build a stronger body that more of my autoimmune symptoms will lessen or even disappear. If not, I figure the worst that can happen is that my new lifestyle will help prevent future issues such as heart disease, diabetes, and cancer. Not to mention how much better I will feel about myself.

Works for me.

Photo Courtesy of Google Images

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