Bang Head Here

Don't get me wrong - my general outlook is all sunshiney and I am grateful to have my health, my reignited weight loss, my dad's improving health (and my mother's!), my business, my man, my life, etc., etc.

BUT SERIOUSLY, WHAT EFFING GIVES? You hear me, Universe? I'm screaming "Uncle!"

I've been trying really hard not to complain about the bubonic plague-like illness I contracted after 10+ days in and out of the hospital during my dad's health crisis. Trying. So. Hard. It just seemed shitty to be complaining about anything after the gift I'd just received. Plus, at first, I was so consumed by the insanity of all that was happening - and all of the work the situation created for me - that I actually managed to just about ignore the mounting illness. Hell, I thought it was Hay Fever for about a week.

Then, by Wednesday of last week, the sore throat, cough, sinus pain and pressure and ultimately, the low grade fever, were all but impossible to ignore. That's especially true considering that I was helping to care for a recovering heart surgery patient AND a mom with little to no immune system to speak of - that I could kill them kinda scared me straight.

So I tapped out of the recovery ring for a few days to recover myself. Honestly, minus the pain and pain-induced sleep deprivation, spending three straight days in jammies on a recliner with my full DVR was pretty damn awesome. Then, blammo!

My boyfriend got it.

He had started to feel ill about a day or so after I did...but he didn't get REALLY sick until this weekend. In fact, the cold hit him way harder than it hit me. Poor guy has no appetite (who would, when it feels like your swallowing fire AND knives?), he has no energy, he's exhausted and sleep-deprived and he's just at his wit's end. Since he has a 9-5 job, it's harder for him to take off consecutive days of work like I can - it's not like he can make up those days over a few weekends. Once he burns them, they're gone.

Plus, and this is no slight on him (just so you know hon - cause I know you read these) - having another sick person to care for really puts a wrench in the routine - a routine that's been completely blown to bits over the past 3 weeks.

I've worked so hard to establish my lifestyle, my eatstyle and my workouts. I also am desperately trying to hold onto the weight loss bonus I received over the course of dad's health fustercluck.

Plus, tomorrow...I have to go back to my parents for the day and do errands and chores. I'm glad to do it - really, I am - but it's just another day that's not a regular day.

I'm off to work out now - like I really mean it - but to say that I'm hanging on by my fingernails is an understatement. I'm desperately trying to hold on to my motivation...but man, this is hard.

Of course, considering all that's gone on in the past few weeks - that I have any motivation at all is a miracle. Onwards and Downwards!

For A REAL Calorie Burn - Ask Your Dad To Have A Heart Attack

It's been 10 pounds, 2 weeks, 1 heart attack and a 4x bypass surgery since my last post.

Doesn't feel like any of it's happened quite yet - not sure when I'll be landing.

On Friday night, I received the second worst phone call any child can get: "Shannon, it's mom. Your dad's in the hospital. He's had a heart attack."

Now, ever since my dad hit his 70s, health issues have been on the menu. First, it was Stage 4 Squamos Cell Carcinoma at the base of his tongue, down the side of his neck and wrapped right around his aorta. Incidentally, that's the same illness and treatment Michael Douglas received. Fortunately, the docs kicked its ass (and my dad's for a while) and ultimately beat the disease into remission. That was about 4 years ago.

The cancer wasn't exactly a surprise, though. My dad smoked for 35 years. He drank his fair share in the 60s and 70s during his first marriage. According to his oncologist and ENT, that's likely what caused the mess.

The heart attack on the 6th, however, came as a shock - at least initially. His own dad dropped dead of a heart attack back in the 1950s when my dad was in his late teens or early 20s (can't remember). My dad took Lipitor for a while in the 90s until he got the blood pressure so under control that the docs took him off. Still, my dad checked his BP religiously just to be on the safe side. He's a pretty active guy - not a gym rat, but he's just one of those people that never sits still. We call his relentless activity "puttering"...and oh, how he putters. I inherited that nervous disorder myself - though, I fight it more effectively (hence the recliner-shaped behind).

Oh, and he had just had a physical not a week before! BP was great. Heart rate excellent. Weight was just fine. Blood sugar was borderline - but he's been "borderline" apparently for about 30+ years. More on THAT later.

So, cut to a few days after his ambulance ride, ER visit and barrage of tests and monitoring in the Cardiac Unit of our hometown hospital. The CT scan revealed that dad had an 85% blockage in one artery...and THAT was the GOOD artery.  The rest were 90%+ - and one or two were just about fully blocked off. The cardiac surgeon - Dr. Acujuo (pr: A-Cujo - which was awesome, since my dad is a rabid Stephen King fan) said in no uncertain terms that his heart disease was advanced and he was lucky that he hadn't had the "big one" and dropped dead. Luckily, there wasn't any irreparable damage to the heart muscle itself - otherwise, it would have been a much different conversation.

Oh, and a side note on names: his cardiologist's name: Dr. Love. He fixes broken hearts for a living. Talk about being born to do your job!  

As for the cause - it's a bit murky. Dr. Acujuo said that his diet might have gotten the ball rolling but that the likely culprit for getting it to death's door proportions was actually the cancer treatment. When she said that, I immediately remember my dad's oncologist telling him that his life expectancy post-cancer was about a decade - and that's mostly because of my dad's age and the severity of the treatment. No shit.

In terms of the borderline diabetes bit - that all just pisses me off. Apparently, this has been going on for so long that the doctors have essentially chosen to ignore it. Since my dad's levels are never off the charts and since his pre-diabetes has never progressed into Type II - it's as though it wasn't a factor in his health's "big picture". Seriously? If you see someone walking toward a line on the horizon and you happen to know there's a cliff just a few yards ahead...provided it wasn't someone you hated...wouldn't you maybe try to pull them back from the brink?

For the next two weeks, dad has to test his blood sugar - which, honestly, we've managed to get down to ridiculously low levels thanks to his new heart healthy, diabetes-friendly diet. He's probably just going to be a diet controlled diabetic - but still - even over the past decade as the connection between diabetes and heart disease became more clear - you'd THINK that his PCP would have suggested he cut down on his favorite Pustie Pie pastries, coffee cakes and pancakes. It's not like my dad ate nothing but pastries and pies - but he did eat his fair share after an otherwise balanced and healthy meal (metric assloads of sodium, notwithstanding).

So, my dad has managed to cheat death twice in the past half decade. The stress and non-stop motion of spending anywhere from 5 - 15 hours in a hospital for 10 days and staying at my folks' house for 4 more to get them settled, on a diet and into a routine put me 10 pounds closer to my weight loss goal.

All in all, a damn good week when put in the proper perspective.

Strange Days

I've learned two pretty big things about myself over the past few days.


1. I learned on Saturday night that I've developed a mild sensitivity to wheat.  This is something that, if I'm being completely honest, I've been ignoring for a while. Suffice it to say that after one too many beers, for the once-too-many-eth time, I suffered a relatively sleepless night. At first, I had a mild panic attack (likely due in part to major sleep deprivation), and thought I must have Celiac's or Environmental Illness (like my mom) and that this was all just the beginning of my descent into illness (and, subsequently, madness).

After 10+ hours of sleep, cooler heads prevailed and I've decided that I need to stay away from the grain alcohols and cut down on my intake of wheat (which, I've already done anyway). Life goes on.


2. On Monday I discovered just how emotional an eater I really am. I'm a New Yorker. Not just an Upstate New Yorker, where I was born and bred, but a City gal. After 8 years living and working in Manhattan and Brooklyn, there's just no doubt about that fact. I was there on 9/11. Had a front row seat to the end of the world as I knew it, in fact. And, without getting into the details here because I can't have another day like the last two, when I heard about OBL's demise, I was beyond surprised by my reaction. The first thing I wanted to do was cry, but I was so stunned that I couldn't. I was immediately taken back to that day. The irrational fear and panic pushed forward and I immediately masked it with a tenuous calm. I wanted a cigarette more than I wanted anything else in the world (ironically, I had been quit for 3 months on 9/11 and started up again that day and for every day afterwards until 1/09). And then, all I wanted to do was eat. I also felt anger, sadness, a bit of joy (which I'm still processing) and a whole hell of a lot of pride.

All things considered, I managed to hold off the binge monster until the end of the day when I just couldn't take it anymore. Gabe went out and got me a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos and I inhaled half of it. I threw the rest away. I only felt slightly guilty about it, since I had worked out that day - I kind of looked at the whole situation as a wash.

What's more, I was completely conscious about what I was doing and why. Instead of blindly eating and not acknowledging the deeper reasons, I copped to it and said: "I want Doritos. Whenever I used to get really stressed, this is what I'd reach for. I can't handle today and I want them...NOW!"

Sure, I wish I could have fought this need off. In fact, I probably could have. Still, I consider it a major leap forward that I was at least AWARE of why the need was practically pulsating in the front of my mind.

This experience also reminded me of all of the mildly emotional moments I've had prior to this one where I've actually been able to shut it all down. Clearly, this isn't the first bit of stress I've had over the past year +! Of course, it's not going to be the last bit of stress I experience for the rest of my life either. I'll win some and I'll lose some of the battles. But, at least I'm awake and aware.