Tag: Health

Adventure: It’s a Bike!

Deana2 Comments

Okay ladies and gents, I have some great news. Are you ready?

I bought a bike.

I know, that news seems pretty anti-climactic really. Especially after telling you guys how I totally lost my mind (or found it, either way) and went Democrat this fall. Compared to that, buying a bike may not sound like all that much.

You see it’s like this. I own a five speed and I hate it. You have to pedal like crazy just to get it to change gears. It can’t handle hills, it hurts my back and I can’t keep up with my friends when we ride the river.

Why do I own a five speed that I hate? Because my husband insisted I get a different bike, and I was in a mood that day. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s a man or he’s the primary bread-winner and I feel… well I don’t know how I feel. I just know that  the more he insisted I’d hate it, the more deeply my stubborn heels dug into the concrete and linoleum floors of Wal-Mart.

Who buys their bikes at Wal-Mart?

We do. Or rather we did. We purchased four bikes that day and he didn’t want to go broke doing it.

Like a lot of married couples I know where one partner works outside of the home and the other inside the home, there are at times power struggles. We were eyeball deep in just such a struggle the day we purchased my nasty bike.

My husband chose the store and the price he wanted to spend. He’s the breadwinner and I was in a… well let me just say a bad place in regards to how we handle things financial in our home. So when he picked out my bike, I balked and walked over to this really pretty dark blue five speed. The more he insisted I get the bike he picked out, the deeper my heels dug into the concrete and linoleum floors.

Home she came.

One ride up and down the moderate hills of our bike trails in Tulsa and I knew he was right. I hated it. Did I tell him that? Nope.

That was four years ago and yes, I’ve ridden a bike that I hate for four whole years because I am not about to tell him he’s right.

Now, I have a dilemma.  I’m trying to lose weight  and I have a bad ankle from a childhood injury that makes running, walking, and anything aerobic really very painful. Cycling, is my best option.

A lot of my friends ride. Some of my friends even compete. They are a wealth of wisdom. This time, I didn’t take my husband shopping with me.  Applause for stepping out of my normally timid, hugely co-dependant/male-dependant butt would be appropriate here. Really, I won’t mind.

This time, I did the research and picked out a bike I knew I would enjoy, be able to ride and could afford.
20111114-073911.jpgFor starters, I didn’t go to Wal-Mart. I went to Tom’s Bicycles in Tulsa. Tom’s is locally owned and operated. If you want to save jobs in America support locally owned stores. Toms has two stores in Tulsa, one on 68th and Peoria and one in the heart of MidTown on 15th (Cherry Street). I know nothing about bicycles and their staff helped me make the best choice for me. You can click the photo of the water bottle above to learn more about Toms.

20111114-073855.jpgThis is the bike Jenny helped me pick out. It’s a Giant Brand and is just my size. I’m only 5’4′ and I did not know bikes came in small, medium and large. This is the first size small I’ve had in years. This dieting thing is working already. I love this bike. It has 18 speeds. The bottom nine are on the right handle and the upper nine are on the left. I can changed gears up or down with a simple click of a switch.

This is a street bike. It’s not a blend or mountain bike. The tires are thin and oddly bare. I didn’t expect that. Not sure how it’ll handle on wet roads, but I’ll find out.

 Click on the photo above if you want to more about Giant Brand Bicycles.

Now, this bike does have one slightly annoying quirk. It likes to throw me off.

20111114-073814.jpgThey say that once you learn how to ride a bike, you never forget. “They” have never met the likes of me with a new bike and toe straps. See this photo? That little bugger held my left foot hostage five minutes into my maiden voyage and I crashed right in front of my house. I have gravel in my hand and elbow and my left thigh and right breast are deeply bruised by the handle bars. But you know what, I got back on and only crashed one other time.

Toms is closed on Mondays, but come Tuesday, the straps come off the pedals and I head back to Toms for gloves and a helmet. I’m thinking that’s probably wise. Don’t you?

So there you have it. I Deana, researched and purchased my very first street bike.

Let the adventure begin.

This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart. November 14, 2011. All rights reserved.

Let’s Talk About It. Fear

Deana3 Comments
Carnival of Souls
Image via Wikipedia

To fear is one thing. To let fear grab you by the tail and swing you around is another. ~Katherine Paterson

October is a great month to look at fear. Of what are we afraid? Why Are we afraid? What does being afraid look like? I know what it looks like on me; blushing, shaking, eyes to the floor, chest flutters. Fear is messy and painful to watch.

My youngest will watch scary movies all month on purpose because he loves being afraid. He’s crazy and 18 and male so.. go figure. Me? Even though I face a lot of my fears by going onstage or submitting a piece of writing, I’d rather not deal with fear most of the time. I would rather run away and sleep, paint, write or even drink (sometimes more than I should) than honestly face my fears. I’m learning though that if I do not face my fears, they will as Katherine Paterson says, “grab me by the tail.”

Some seasons just suck. My summer this year is no exception.  Between putting my beloved collie of 16 years down in June and two months of other people in my life behaving badly all I wanted to do by September is run away to my cabin at the lake to paint and write. I did not get to do that and yet I survived.

I am much better now thank you.

Fear can really grab me by the tail when I’m hurting. That might sound strange to you, but it’s the truth. When that happens I remind myself to be gentle with my expectations and take things as they come.

One good sign that fear has grabbed me by the tail is I start taking people’s emotional temperatures before I speak. It’s manipulative really and I justify that behavior by telling myself I do not have the emotional energy to deal with someone else’s emotions so I better play it safe and watch what I say. I wind up exhausted and my feet hurt from all those egg shells I make myself walk on and yet I continue.

Do you know what I discovered this month? I’m afraid of letting people see me hurting.

To fear is one thing, don’t be it’s bitch.

Ain’t that a kick in my egotistical behind?

I like answers more than I like revelation. Knowing this about myself is one thing and it’s a big thing, now I just need to figure out what I’m going to do with this new knowledge.

Writing prompt: Would you share with us the last time fear grabbed you by the tail? What did it look like and how did you deal with it?

D-Man is 18 Today.

Deana2 Comments

My youngest son is turning 18 today. I cannot begin to count the years. His joyful spirit, insatiable curiosity, artistic talent and eye for the spiritual has left his father and myself deeply changed. I guess he’s finished with his job of raising us to be good parents. He’s an adult now. WOW. Am I ready? – nope.

And Some See Chariots

When my boys were born, I kept the baby monitors on full blast so that I could hear the slightest sound and run in, should they need me. When they were sick, I slept on the floor next to their crib. You might say, I was a zealous new mother. I don’t know who learned how to sleep through the night first, me or my boys. Even today, I still have one ear cocked just in case.

My youngest son has epilepsy. Dillon had his first grand mal seizure while napping in our bed at six-years-old. (If you don’t know what Grand Mal means, it’s where the whole body convulses.) He’d had a migraine that morning and we were resting. The seizure took me by total surprise and I called the paramedics in a panic.
I would try to sleep in our bed after that and would invariably wind up on his bedroom floor listening. I kept this pattern up for about a month, before finally letting go. A year went by before he had another seizure.

On Father’s Day 2000, I could hear Dillon hiccupping in the hallway. He had gotten up to sleep by the vent like he does on so many other nights. I got up to check on him and move him back into his own bed only something wasn’t right. When I sat down next to him to wake him up, I noticed that something was wrong. His eyes were fully dilated and when he saw me he got up with great difficulty. Using the right side of his body only, he began to crawl towards me. I grabbed Dillon and pulled him onto my lap. He had lost all strength on the left side of his body and his speech was slurred and slow. I’d thought he’d had a stroke and Jeff called 911.

The paramedics arrived pretty quickly, and said that he had indeed had a mild stroke, or TIA as they call it. And off to the hospital we went. CT scans revealed nothing except that, Dillon had not had a stroke, he’d a seizure.

What Dillon was experiencing was the after effects of a nocturnal frontal lobe seizure. His motor skills and muscle strength did return after a while. His memory of our family trip to Disney two weeks prior, did not return. The short-term memory loss was permanent.

Dillon had a dozen more seizures before Epilepsy was diagnosed. Even then it took months to get it under control with the right medications.

Both Dillon and I were afraid to sleep at night. My maternal instincts kept me awake listening for the slightest noise, so that I could run in and be there should he need me. I did not have the strength to sleep. My friends and I prayed continually for healing and for peace.
Every night our family would pray together that Jesus would hold Dillon while he slept and that God would send his angels down to watch over us and keep all of us safe. And we would try to crawl in to His lap for peace and comfort.

One night while we were sitting on our back porch swing rocking and singing together, Dillon asked me how I knew God would send his angels. I didn’t have an answer for him, so I lied. I told him I just do, that it was about faith. But he looked up and said, “No Mommy. How do you KNOW He will?”

What happened to the easy questions, like “Where do babies come from?” That one I had an answer for. So I said a quiet prayer for the right words to say.

It was one of those crystal clear Oklahoma nights where the sky just goes on forever, and I pointed at the stars and asked him what he saw. (My intent was to say if God can hang the heavens then surely he could send a few angels to watch over a child.) Dillon looked at the stars and said something only a child could say,

“EYES!”

“Eyes?” I replied. “I see stars.”

He said “Yeah Mommy, ANGEL EYES!”

With that he ran out to the middle of the yard, threw his head and his arms back and said, “Wow Mommy! Look at all the angels God sent to watch over me!” Then he gave me a quick hug and a kiss and ran back to bed, sleeping soundly for the first time in ages.

I did not run straight to bed and sleep soundly. I fell flat on my face before the God of the universe in my backyard and asked him to see what my son sees.

Elisha saw Chariots, Dillon sees angels and I am learning to see the hand of God at work in ways I never imagined.

And Elisha prayed,
“O LORD, open his eyes so he may see.”
Then the LORD opened the servant’s eyes,
and he looked and saw the hills full
of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.”

Dillon’s seizures remained in remission from 2001 to 2004. After finding new medications and treatments, Dillon has now been seizure free since October 5, 2008 and will be taking his drivers test next week.

Added: August 24, 20111 — I’m happy to report that Dillon has passed his driver’s test – first time out I might add – and is now driving. Something we never thought possible.

Self Will Run Riot. No more Monday Menus

Deana3 Comments

Scripture calls it being handed over to your desires.

My 12 Step books call it an “Obsession of the mind” or “Self will run riot.”

Either way you put it, it means the same thing. God sits back and lets me work out my control issues until I’m dead tired, defeated, and humbled and remember that he is there to help. This isn’t a new thing, it’s really how I tend to run my life. I believe it was Ben Franklin who said, “God helps those who help themselves.”

The problem with that phrase is, it isn’t true. It’s not even scriptural.

God is a gentleman, yes he’s willing to help but do y’all remember the verse, “you have not because you ask not.” – yep, that’s me. I don’t ask for help. I’m more of the hey God look at me! See, I can do this all by myself. But the truth is, I can’t nor was I created to.

I thought the Monday menu was a good idea. And from a family planning perspective it probably was. Except that I spent hours pouring over cook books and web pages looking for ideas to piece together the perfect family menu that they would love and I could eat and still lose weight.  I was obsessed.

My doctor gave me simple instructions when he released me from his care, don’t gain weight. He also very kindly pointed out I was not in good health and he’d really like to see a different me by next June.

I have, over the years, tried preordered plans like Jenny Craig and Nutrisystem. I’ve even done Weight Watchers, LA Weight loss, Atkins, and South Beach Diet. I’ve swallowed a variety of pills from appetite control to fat blockers to cleansers all to no avail.  I’ve counted carbs, points, and fat grams until I couldn’t count anymore. I’ve also spent a few thousand dollars on equipment and videos over the years only to give up after a while.

In AA, when an alcoholic doesn’t want to admit they are an alcoholic they try what is called “Controlled drinking.” That basically means they white knuckle their way through just having one or only two drinks, or they abstain for a period of time to prove they can. Foodies like me do controlled eating. Alcoholics keep a private stash of booze, I keep a private stash of candy bars or chips or cookies or cakes.

It’s really no different. Except that for an alcoholic to fully recover they need to quit drinking completely. I cannot quit eating or I’ll starve to death.

I’m not going to bore y’all with this. Let’s just say it’s been a journey. This week in my new bible study, (http://www.settingcaptivesfree.com/)  I learned about permission based eating. Basically that means I wait until my stomach growls before I eat. Sometimes I like that – most days I don’t. See, my stomach doesn’t growl when I think it should. But we’re getting there. I also became aware how often my brain tells me I should be hungry and when I stop and really listen to my stomach, I know I’m not and I pass on the food.

Another neat trick I learned — use the pause on my videos. Right now, I can’t keep up with them. I dropped a class at church because I couldn’t keep up. Even though it’s a wonderful class and the gal said go at your own pace, my pride over rode my desire to get in shape. Same with a bike trip. Several gals get together every week and ride 12 miles. I can’t keep up and I don’t want to make them wait for me, so I told them, let me get in better shape and I’ll join you then. I do the same with videos at home. I just turn them off. Then my mentor suggested something she did – hit the pause button, catch your breath and turn it back on. It doesn’t matter if it takes you two hours to do a one hour video, just make the goal to complete it.

I hadn’t thought of that.

 So that is where I’m at this week.

  1.  No more diet plans (which should make grocery shopping enjoyable again) 
  2. Permission based eating 
  3. Use my pause button and keep going. 
  4.  And last but certainly not least, it’s my spirit that is hungry, not my body, so Bible Study is essential for me.  Without God, this won’t have any kind of lasting results.

So that is it in a nutshell.  Confessions was not intended to be a foodie blog anyway. Confessions is just a place to practice my writing, and share stories. And besides I have much cooler things to share with you guys than my food issues, like The Messiah, Adventures in comedy, missions and family as well as saving up for my very first girlfriends only vacation that I’m taking next year. So, thank you for letting me have my rabbit trail, and now let’s get back on track, shall we?

 This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart: Confessions of a Spiritual Bulimic. All rights reserved. November 15, 2010

STICKY: Welcome to Confessions

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My stats are showing more and more that people are finding my page by searching for bulimia. While I’m thankful you are here, I’m not a professional health care worker or dietician.  I receive a dozen or more hits every day now wanting to know about bulimia prayers, hope, healing, and recovery and I think that is wonderful and sad all at once. Wonderful because people are looking for hope, and sad because that many hits means people are hurting and NEED hope.  When it comes to eating disorders,  I don’t have the answers.  I’m just now coming to terms with the damages I caused my body when I was younger. While I no longer physically purge food,  I do still at times over eat, over exercise,  and starve myself for the wrong reasons. — if any of this is an issue for you, please please PLEASE check out the page my friend gave me.  Setting Captives Free.  I’ve committed to it myself. It’s a wonderful sight. Thanks. –
If you came to my site because of other searches, WELCOME. Please feel free to look around. I’m really glad you are here. Blessings, Deana

Why do you Want to Lose Weight?

Deana4 Comments

Note: My stats are showing more and more people searching for bulimia — I don’t have the answers. That’s why I’m posting this tonight. I am receive a dozen or more hits every day now wanting to know about bulimic prayers, hope, healing, etc.  I’m just now coming face to face with the damages I caused my body when I was younger. While I no longer physically purge food — I was released from that captivity several years ago –  I do still at times over eat, over exercise,  and starve for the wrong reasons. — if any of this is an issue for you, please please PLEASE check out the page my friend gave me.  Setting Captives Free.  I’ve committed to it myself, starting today. It’s a wonderful sight. Thanks.

The first question I see in every weightloss program I’ve ever tried is “Why do you want to lose weight?”

That’s a loaded question, don’t you think? Why do any of us want to lose weight?

To:

  • Fit in that new dress / bathing suit.
  • Look good for vacation / wedding / class reunion.
  • Find a Mate. (Already have one)
  • Build my self-esteem
  • Be healthy and live longer.
  • Get my blood pressure and sugar back down to reasonable levels.
  • Be more successful as a worker / performer / speaker
  • Finally wear skinny jeans again.
  • Receive positive attention from others.

Lots of choices to that question, but something tells me (other than looking ahead) all of my answers are incorrect.

I ran into an old friend this weekend. Someone I hadn’t seen in ages. She looked great. What I noticed first though, was her eyes. They had this light that I feel like I’ve lost.  I wanted to know what she was doing differently. I mean I’m reading the Bible. I’m praying, I’m studying healthy eating habit and I’m exercising.

I’m.

I’m.

I’m.

I’m.

hmmmm

 

Then she said something really great – eating disorders cover false idols.

I had never until that very moment thought of the idol of being thin.

It was a total “aha” moment for me.

It was immediately obvious that I’m doing something very different from what she is doing. She’s living to honor God, I’m living to get thin again. No wonder my eyes look tired and her’s don’t.  If I’m is a contraction of I am. Maybe I’m focusing on the wrong I AM?

I wonder.

Think about it.

An idol is a false god — something that replaces the real God we have in Christ.

CONFESSION: Every single reason I have ever – in my life – had, for wanting to lose weight — is an idol. Approval, self-esteem, respect, personal health, success, control. None of my choices had anything to do with God. No wonder I continue to  fail. I’ve made it all about me.

What about you?

What is your reason for wanting to lose weight?  

  

This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart: Confessions of a Spiritual Bulimic. All rights reserved. No goods or services were given in exchange for the endorsement of Setting Captives Free. I am only sharing a resource that I myself find to be very useful.

 

My Surgeon is awesome: Girl Talk

Deana7 Comments
Robert Downey Jr, as Iron Man.
Oct 18, 2011 – This particular piece received a lot of hits this week so I thought I’d look at it to see why and oh wow I really shouldn’t publish blog pieces while still on pain meds. I’d delete this, but there’s some good stuff in it, even if it does reveal a mild (and short lived) post-op crush on my surgeon – so I’m keeping it. You should have seen it before I scrubbed it — mortified does not even begin to describe how I feel reading this a year later and realizing it has gone viral locally.  I wrote this back when I had all of four readers — my family — and then I promptly forgot about it until now. — This is part of a series I’d written during my hysterectomy in 2010. You can tab to the older entries to see the full story if you’d like. or not. Either way – enjoy.

———————————————

The only thing I hate more than going to the doctor’s office is going to a MALE doctor’s office. I don’t do doctors. I especially don’t do MALE doctors. Hmmm. Nope, not my style. And yet what do I get with my referral on Easter? A Male doctor. Nice.

Color my Easter basket un-thrilled. It’s bad enough I was in so much pain I had to leave Easter Services to go to the hospital, now I find out that I need to see a guy about my female parts?  Can I just please fall down a rabbit hole and stay there? I mean, it worked for Alice didn’t it? —

Oh that’s right, she came out of it eventually.

Drat.

I tried to drown my pitiful sorrows with chocolate marshmallow bunnies, but it didn’t help. I needed to see a specialist and he was available and it turns out, it didn’t kill me.

My surgeon at looks kinda like Robert Downey Jr (or at least he did post anesthesia), is a College Lit major before med school, artist, poet,  loves the rock band U2, happily married with children, is a total brainiac, and he cares as much about my emotional well-being as he does my physical health.

Can I keep him if I say he followed me home?

Okay, well no probably not. I’m pretty sure my husband wouldn’t go for the whole followed me home bit. Worked with the cat, but not a doctor.

Still, the whole reason I know he loves U2 is because I told him once that my husband and I have tickets to see U2 in Denver on June 12 and how I think that I “need” to be well by then.

That isn’t going to happen, and Bono is in the hospital as well, so I’ll see them in 2011 instead.

Even though the answer is no climbing the Rockies so soon after my hysterectomy, my surgeon did at least empathize with me. He also found a way for us to connect emotionally – a mutual appreciation for the rock band U2. That connection took me from freaked out scared to “I think I can do this.”

I like that.

I tell him a lot of things actually, and I am pleasantly shocked to discover that he not only listens to me – he repeats facts I’ve shared back to me at various times and uses them work through a plan of action for my recovery. He hears me. Wow.

 

My MALE surgeon rocks like Bono….

                                                                                                                          ………………. only better. Who knew?

So why is this news?

Because I only use female doctors thank you very much.  Always have always will. Except for this time. This time I needed an emergency referral and opted for first available and got R.D. Jr.  Edited on June 29 to add — my surgeon is my new GYN. I’m not going back to someone else. He’s an excellent doctor, and I can get over his being male — eventually. (laughs)

Common myths I’ve always believed.  

1. A female Doctor will understand me in ways a male doctor cannot.

2. A female doctor will listen and be compassionate.

AND

3. I’ve always thought of Male gynecologists as a creepier than normal Mr Rogers. (I’m serious, grown men in cardigans have scared me since I was a toddler.)

What I’ve learned in the last 40 days –

It’s not the sex of your doctor that matters, it’s the doctor that matters.

My female doctor listened to my complaints about my cycle getting worse and said “Welcome to Peri-Menopause” without looking into it.

RDJ said let’s look for the cause.

My female doctor listened to my complaints about my bladder getting weaker and said “Welcome to middle age, it comes from having babies dear.”

RDJ said, “I might be able to fix that, if you need me to, but I’m not sure you do yet. Let’s find the balance between too much and just enough, okay?”

My female doctor listened to my complaints about random abdominal pain and said “here take these pills, I think you are getting depressed.”

RDJ. said “This is why you are in pain, …… I can fix that.”

My female doctor felt the top of my mass, said my abs had split and told me where I could get a tummy tuck.

I never asked him where I could have gotten one of those. That would have been well… too much for me. But what he did so is spend more time doing the surgery right (albeit the hard way) so that I could recover more quickly. And it was the fibroid pressing on my bladder that was causing my “issues” and not my babies after all.

I can’t tell you if my surgeon is good at making eye contact, because I wasn’t. I still have some issues with the whole male gyn thing, BUT: What I can tell you is at this office, and at Saint Whosits  in Tulsa, I felt cared for, cared about, and taken care of. He listened to me and he included me in every step of the process. He went out of his way to make me comfortable and help me understand.

While I’ve worked with men almost my whole life – I prefer to stay in my head. Intellectually I can match any man. What I don’t do well, is  vulnerable. And in order for this patient/doctor relationship to really work, I have to be vulnerable. What’s great about this office, and this particular surgeon is they make it easier to do that than I had expected.

I couldn’t ask for more in a doctor, male or female. Can you? So, question for you dear friends, what is your favorite thing about your doctor and what is your least favorite thing?

 I realize I am being more well, personal than usual. I mean yeah, I can wear my heart on my sleeve,  but today – I want you to see my internal heart.

Added May 31, 2011 – It has been exactly a year since my hysterectomy. (Read update here) I cannot even put into words how much better I feel physically, emotionally, and spiritually. While I wish I could have avoided the surgery, I’m grateful for the staff of doctors and nurses who walked me through it every step of the way.   

This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart. All rights reserved. Please note that no goods or services were provided in exchange for this post.

Alive and Recovering

Deana4 Comments

For those of you dear readers who have been with me since the doctors found a mass in my uterus, I thank you for your prayers, thoughts and encouraging remarks.  For those of you who are new to my blog, it’s been a roller coaster of a ride since Easter Sunday. The good news is, I’ve had my surgery, and I’m home recovering. Preliminary test results say I do not have cancer, I do have a fibroid mass that is larger than a grapefruit and smaller than a bread basket, plus my endometrial cells are presently mutating into a precancerous state thus requiring a hysterectomy. They took everything but my ovaries.

The surgery was more difficult than my doctor anticipated, The mass was so big they named my uterus “Fergus” (I’m not kidding, doctors crack me up) Even though it was a bit on the tricky side according to my surgeon, they were able to get everything. They did everything laproscopically as well so that my recovery time would be shortened.

The pain coming out of surgery was worse than I’d experienced after my gallbladder surgery and ACL repair combined. I vaguely recall getting into it with a post op nurse over pain meds at one moment and seeing my surgeon standing between us the next.  It took most of Friday to get my pain under control. I’m not sure why it was so high, but it was. I’m usually much more tolerant of pain.

I have since learned that I lost a good deal of blood, my BP was really low (80 over 43 low), and my oxygen levels were also below 90% – they had more serious issues to deal with before leveling out my pain. I just didn’t realize it at the time.  I’m sure there is a spiritual lesson in there somewhere.

I’ve been anemic for months and the blood loss during surgery has made it worse. What the doctors told me is I’ve become accustomed to operating on not enough fuel. Once my hemoglobin and oxygen levels return to where they are supposed to be, I am going to be a completely different woman.

I’m on a two-week rest order. My DH thought he took the time off to take care of me, and what he’s discovered is he took the time off to keep me out of trouble. I’m feeling better, I want to work now and can’t. Rest is not optional, it’s required.

I have my pile of books that I’ve been meaning to get around to reading. Photos I’ve been wanting to get around to sorting. And files that need to be organized along with videos I’ve been meaning to watch.

I’m also learning how to let other people “bless us” by offering help, bringing meals and what not. Something this caretaker is decidedly NOT good at.

Ready for the snap

Deana5 Comments

Take one Fever

Add a mild anxiety attack

and you have no surgery.

Calling off the surgery was a good call. I went home and slept for three days. Turns out, I was one sick puppy. Once I came to, I discovered that my lungs could no longer tolerate smoke and I am reluctantly happy to report that I am smoke free. I say reluctantly because while I cannot tolerate smoke, it doesn’t mean I don’t crave them. Color me with nicotine patches and I’m tolerable to be around.

Smoking did not go down without a fight. I tried to smoke – it didn’t work. I couldn’t inhale and that frustrated me. So for two or three days, I played with cigarettes, watched them burn, watched the smoke, remembered my Father in Law and my Grandparents, and kinda grieved. Okay – it’s pathetically wierd and I know it. But cut me some slack here okay?

My grandparents smoked and neither of them died from it. My father-in-law and I were very close buds and he did die from it. My emotional tie to cigarettes has everything to do with my emotional ties to these people who are no longer in my life. Letting go of my own cigarettes is another step in letting go of them.

I visited Dr B’s office yesterday and my lungs sound fine.  We talked about music (he likes U2 as much as we do) and surgery and we are ready to rock and roll on Friday. literally – he listens to U2 while he operates. That just totally cracks me up.

I did catch something funny that he does. When he’s talking to me, he stands next to me and holds my right hand with his right hand and he places his left hand on my wrist.  All this time I thought it was a nurturing and centering tactic, which it is. I also figured out that it allows him to feel my pulse while he’s talking to me to check my anxiety. Laugh out Loud. Jeff and I figured that out last night.

I can lie through my teeth, but I can’t lie through my veins. This whole mass-in-the-uterus-in-you-need-a hysterectomy thing has me a little on the scared side.

Out-smarted by a surgeon. Go figure!

So later gators. I have salt water to drink – don’t ask and an operation to get ready for.

I’ll post again later next week. Have a wonderful weekend.