Downsizing.....

Originally I posted this to my DISH support group and had a lot of positive feedback on it. I figure if I am opening up on my health issues (ie: my daily life) that I might as well toss this one out to the rest of the universe as well.  Just as an FYI...its clean, but not necessarily appropriate for everyone as I (humorously) discuss a real problem I am facing with being a plus size gal with DISH.

Here is one of the oddly humorous curves DISH has thrown at me:

I realized this morning that with as much image posting I do from my small phone, that I should probably clear some photos out of my standard folder, as I wouldn't want to post them by accident and be met with villagers wielding pitchforks and burning torches claiming I am a menace to society and all that is holy in the world.

Let me explain:

My surgeon and I are waiting to hear if insurance will approve a breast reduction to ease my back and neck pain. Having been amply endowed since puberty, this struggle has been going on for over 3 decades now. "The girls" (as they call themselves) merely laugh in the face of weight loss and refuse to budge by so much as an inch; zoning regulations be damned. Being the darn little (uh...not so little) squatters that they are, they refuse to listen to reason, so I am now forced to consider drastic measures.

In preparation, my surgeon asked what I felt would be a reasonable setting on the va-va-va-voom yardstick (my measuring reference, not his!) I had no real frame of reference on what “normal” sizes equated to in terms of spacial volume, so I said, “C”, and then felt I needed to tack on a hurried disclaimer of, “it doesn't matter how they turn out so long as they are smaller that what I deal with now, you know. I don't care what direction they point or shape or anything...please just make them smaller.”

My surgeon laughed along with me, noting that, yes, as size C is a good 7 or 8 letters down the scale from where I currently reside (not counting those tricky twin or triplicate sizing course corrections), it would be just fine as my final destination. However, as I left his office I began to wonder... were C's going to be too big?

So I started researching before and after shots, and even saved a few on my phone with the reasoning that I would point them out to my surgeon like some freaky show and tell: “see Doc, her original set is similar to mine and see what she was able to get...can I have those too?”

Heaven help me if someone finds them, as I am really a clean-cut girl, though it probably wouldn't be hard to explain since all of the before shots are marked up with surgical “cut here” dotted lines, x's and arrows, making these poor victims of "excess coverage" look like impromptu chalkboards recording lines of scrimmage for the home team's next big play!

Of course I can't be so forward as to walk up to a gal and simply ask for her cup size; “Where did you get those earrings?” no problem. “Love the haircut, mind if I snap a shot to show my hairdresser?” easy as pie. “Can I ask you what your breast size is, 'cause I want those?” sorry....nope. I'd either wind up with a slap to the face, which I don't need (but then, everything hurts anyway), or a speculative glance and maybe someone's phone number, which really doesn't fit my style either.

Which leaves me with my current situation...googling (googling, not ogling...thankfully, there is a difference) breasts online; hoping no one sees my little stash and start thinking I have a problem.....

Which I do....

Curse you DISH!

Letting go

It's been ages since I've even thought of blogging...for which I humbly apologize. There are all sorts of excuses I could make, but I really guess it all boils down to life and priorities getting all twisted and tangled into an unfathomable mess, which really happens to all of us from time-to-time, doesn't it? For once life has left me with time on my hands, and a desire to start writing...what better way to slip into things than by dusting off my blogs and diving in?

Today finds me relatively well, in spite of my health issues...which I shall cover in later posts. This afternoon Richard promises to help me get my office into some sort of order (i.e.: clear a path through my accumulated papers, supplies and books so I can get to both desks). I've taken on the mindset that we have far too much stuff that cluttering the place up...in a small apartment this means my office looks like an episode of Hoarders, though, thankfully, without the dead cats or feline-related urine stains (no urine of any kind for that matter).

Why the need to downsize? Well, being home 24/7 and having this junk stare me in the face is stressful..in the past I could escape by going to work and coming home in time to eat and head straight to bed, but I no longer have that option. Wanting to grab the cats and just walk away from it all is not a healthy condition to find myself in and is not normal!

I have noticed a familial trend to be pack rats and I no longer want a part of it. Case in point: I got Richard to rearrange the bedroom furniture; since the addition of my recliner (yes, I sleep in a recliner now) the room was completely crowded. It was hard to negotiate while clean, let alone with junk on the floor. Every time I allowed myself to think of it I got anxious, then angry, and then downright mean because I felt like I was suffocating in a pile of unneeded crap.

Heck, just thinking about it is making me upset!

The bedroom is still not done, but it feels much more open and I noticed the more that was done the less pissy I was feeling. It's very slow-going because we have accumulated a lot of stuff and, I admit it's hard to let some of it go. That, and my current health doesn't allow me to do much without bringing on a lot of pain, but it NEEDS to be done.

I don't think stress will go away once we have decluttered our lives, but it WILL reduce something that's become a stress-trigger for me, which is good, and having less junk around for me to trip over or fall against is good now that I'm more prone to fractures.

I know, I know....sooooooo not an interesting post. I'll try and do better with the next one....once I find my desk!

Life is still good, in spite of it all..... a health update

Wow, time flies when you are busy, doesn't it?

It seems like my life hasn't stopped for breath since I took over as office manager here at work last December.  Days are good, but certainly filled with not only ordering, sending out bills and paying them, payroll, phones, the slow progression of getting the office cleaned up and looking nice, and the hardest job of all, keeping track of my local handyman who has a tendency to slip off when you aren't looking!  I was glad when the boss agreed I could hire an assistant (ie: Miya!)  She is learning the ropes as she goes, but has certainly taken a load off of my shoulders so I can focus on the more important aspects of the job.

Lucie, Miya and I started a beginners yoga class last month, and I have been LOVING IT, except for every time I have to get on my knees.  For those who aren't in the know, before we moved back to Washington my knees were beginning to bother me.  Lots of inflammation, pain to the touch below the kneecap, hobbling around sometimes like an old lady.... really not fun.

I even bought a thicker yoga mat to help offset the pain in class, which helped at first even though I was miles slower than anyone else in getting down to the floor and hauling my butt back up off of it afterwards.  Sadly, this last week's session was, literally, hell.  I had to modify stuff and couldn't do any lunges or what I call our "knee poses".  I had decided the day before that enough was enough and had scheduled an appointment with my doctor to see if a shot in the knees would help, as I assumed it was just a case of big-girl arthritis setting in.

Good thing too.

Wednesday I went in and, after the initial exam was told I'd need x-rays so the doctor could see what was going on.. Unfortunately, the clinic's x-ray machine wasn't lining up properly so I did my shuffle over to the adjoining hospital (thank goodness for small town hospitals that aren't miles and miles long!) where I posed for a really nice radiologist.  She laughed at my jokes about capturing my "good side" as I posed for her images, which lightened the mood a lot and made it fun.  Then it was a hobble back over the doctor's office to look at what was sent.

I must say, I have GORGEOUS knees.... oh yeah, oh yeah.  I'd show them to you, but I didn't think to ask for a pdf until after I left. Besides, I can't show you because its my naked skeleton and I don't do nudies!  But I have no problem showing you someone else's kneecap as a reference, so here it is (hey, they put it online for anyone to see!):

Isn't it lovely and ethereal?  Seriously, I really do want to ask my doctor for a copy of my knee shot the next time I am in so I can frame it.  Yes, I know, I am odd... deal with it.

Turns out I do have mild arthritis (its called age kids!) and I still have plenty of space between my bones, so the shot was out.  Its patellar tendinitis, which doesn't really surprise me, since I have tendinitis in several other parts of my body.  I usually always have inflammation somewhere, so I tend to take ibuprofen a lot.

Well, the doc has put me on a steroid pill for 5 days to help kick it down, and prescribed an expensive anti-inflammatory cream to rub on the legs... honestly, even a partial relief of pain would be worth the cost (insurance wouldn't cover it, but I am willing to pay a bit out of pocket in order to nip this in the bud and get my body back on track).  I also bought two Ace bandages to wrap under the kneecap to help support the tendon and you wouldn't believe how much THAT little maneuver has helped to alleviate my pain. Wish I would have thought of that one sooner!

My doctor, as thrilled as she was that I was doing yoga, has put me on a restriction right now... nothing on the knees, no lunges.... nothing that will irritate my condition.  I had to beg to be allowed to go to class and do the bits that I COULD handle, especially once I told her there was only 3 more classes left to this session. Thank goodness the instructor is offering the class again in the fall so I can go through it again once I have this issue under control.

I have also been warned away from stairs, which I am doing to the best of my ability, but I had to admit to her that I live on the second level of our apartment complex.  Richard has been a dear though ever since my knees started bothering me by doing multiple trips up the stairs to bring in groceries so I don't have to go up and down carrying stuff in (really, I wound up with one of the sweetest guys ever!)  Luckily there are only a couple of steps here in the office.

I have two sessions of physical therapy scheduled and then a follow-up with the doctor in 3 weeks, which makes me even happier that Miya is doing as well as she is so I know that the office is being left in good hands while I am running around getting all this done!

I did get a phone call from the doc later Wednesday afternoon though.... of course her first words were "I don't want you to panic".  Uh, okay.  It turns out there is a shadow on the x-ray for my right knee (the worst of the two) so she wants to get me scheduled for a contrast MRI.   It may be nothing, but there may be a mass... odds are if there is something its benign (thank goodness cancer doesn't run in my genetic line).  Heck, I have ovarian cysts all the time and those are benign and harmless (except when they rupture.. ouch!) so I see nothing to get worked up over.

No, I am not scared, nor really worried about it.  I guess some people must freak out at this point because Sue repeated the "don't panic/don't be alarmed/don't be scared" mantra numerous times during the call.  I see no reason to worry until we know there is something to worry about.... and after that what's the point of worrying when you need to focus on rectifying the situation?  We'll see what they have to say in a few weeks time and then address the issue once we know where we stand.

I guess I should thank Obamacare.  This would really be expensive if I didn't have some sort of insurance coverage....it doesn't make me like the rest of his "work" in the White House, but I really do appreciate the insurance coverage since I can't get coverage on my own.

So what am I doing in the meantime?  Well, there is a local Renaissance Fair in town that opens after yoga tomorrow (and the Farmers Market is opening this weekend!) so I plan to have a little fun, and then go home and clean my house.... you know, typical Saturday stuff.  And, if I am lucky, I can rope Richard into helping to clear up my crafting office.

You know, since I can't handle any of the heavy lifting and all....  well, I can, but no one tell him that!  ;D

Have a wonderful weekend everyone.... my love to you all.

How about the part where I said I gave up soda?

For those who didn't see my FB status, I gave up soda again two weeks ago (9th of June 2012) for what, the fourth time now?  I tend to quit, stay off of soda for anywhere up to 1-3 years before going back to it.  This time, other than a day or two of discomfort, it hasn't been hard at all.  I'm now up to drinking over a gallon of water most days, but I am feeling much better, and it makes me happy to think of all the money I am not dumping into the soda industry's deep pockets.

I don't think I made myself entirely clear to the hubs though (who is still drinking soda, but it doesn't bother me, since this was a personal choice) because of what happened about a week into the new no-soda routine.

I had asked the hubs to stop by the store on his way home to pick up something I needed to go with dinner that night.  He does, and then brought it home to where I was waiting.

"Here you go", he says, handing over said dinner ingredient.

There was  a pause and then he continued with, "I bought a surprise for you where I was there".

Me, still chopping and simmering and sauteing paused, looked up and said, "Oh? What for?"

"Because you've been doing so good with this soda thing", he replied, and then pulled out two cans of my favorite flavors of soda and set them on the counter.

It is safe to say I was dumbfounded.

I looked at these two brightly designed cans, cans that were fresh from the soda machine at the grocery.  So cold that beads of cool condensation had formed and were running enticingly down the sides of the cans.

"Baby", I said, trying to remain calm, sweet and nice, when on the inside a part of me was screaming grab the can! grab the can!  "Why did you get me these when you know I gave up soda?"

He looked at me with sudden alarm crossing his face.  "Gave up?  I thought you were just cutting back and I was so proud of all the water I've seen you drinking...."

I felt bad for him, doing something he thought would be nice (after all, he did pick my two bestest and favoritest flavors) but I admit I wanted him to take those cans and put them out of my sight.

Thankfully he drank one of them that night, but the other one is still sitting in the fridge just waiting for me to slip up.  Not that I am all that worried about it.... if I have a soda it is not the end of the world.  I am just happy that if nothing else that I have gotten myself to the point where not having a soda is fine by me.  After all, Richard is still chugging away, and its not a temptation to me anymore, but I am not about to turn down a root beer float should one come in through my front door and I find myself in the mood to partake of such a delicious and refreshing treat.

Here's the strange part though... I've noticed now that I have sent soda packing for parts unknown, that my sugar cravings have gone way down.  We're talking a freakishly huge reduction.  I was that girl who'd chug soda (mostly diet, but a lot of full sugar Shasta brands were making their way home as well) all day long.  Single-handedly going through a 12-pack in a weekend was not unheard of.  But along with that I constantly had the munchies and the munch in mind was candy, ice cream, or chips.

Now that I am a water girl again (I stopped with the Crystal Light after day 3) I have noticed when I went to the store the other day I bought fresh pears and couldn't wait to get them home, wash one and take a bite.  The gauntlet of candy bars that holds sway in pretty much every grocery in America wasn't even a temptation to me.  Let me tell you that pear (and the banana I had the next day) were literally like the fruit of the Gods... a sweet, sweet ambrosia to my usually chemical-stimulated taste buds.

Now that alone was worth giving up the soda for.