Something Had To Give
Hey loved ones. Through some shift of the jet stream we had snow the day before yesterday and it hasn't fully melted away yet. Watching it come down on Sunday I wanted nothing more than to grab my camera and rush out to embrace it, but I couldn't. No one here keeps snow shovels or rock salt- it may have only been an inch or two but it had swept under the carport out front and frozen, so I would have fallen. I could have gone out to the garage and opened the garage door, but the wind always seems to sweep in from the north, and Dad has been sorting through his piles of stuff- no one needed snow swept into the garage making the floor slick in there as well (and the view from the garage is the neighbor's back yard which isn't a view .
So I grabbed my camera anyway and took the shots I wanted through the windows, which we all know is not ideal AT ALL. Still, it felt good to be using my camera again for something more than shots so I can post things onto eBay.
this is the best of what I took- a sweet little bird conveniently perched outside the living room window to wait out the strong winds
So why didn't I brave the snow anyway? Because on Thursday I flew out of bed, or rather fell. It's not the first time I have slid off the bed when getting too close to the edge- the mattress is marshmallowy soft, which I love after how firm my hospital bed was, but my weight dips the mattress when I get to the edge and I hit the carpet hard, sometimes I smack my head on the nightstand, but (thankfully) more often than not I land on my knees. It is incredibly painful, given that both knees need replacing, but at least from my knees I can get up. With assistance- Richard has to go get my walker so I can use it to climb up from. If I wind up on my behind, its less painful, but definitely not a position I can do much of anything from (other than cry). Working my weight (and fusing spine) to twist so I can get my legs underneath me makes me want to scream from the pain. It takes ages, I get angry with myself, with my body, with this stupid disability... it all boils down to the same thing in the end anyway, tears and maybe a scream of pain or two (thank goodness falling from bed usually means I still have my CPAP mask still on, so not only can I still breathe, but screams are fairly muffled.
My knees were still painful to the touch Sunday and there was no way I wanted to risk a fall outside where I would be smacking into cold, hard concrete.
So sitting there on the floor, Sam and Oliver both frantically grabbing onto me and trying to tug me up onto the bed (which was incredibly sweet, but I also know now how it would feel like to be mauled by small predators, which I would rather never experience again. I finally called Richard (who was just arriving at work) because there was no way I was going to get up by using my canes or the marshmallow mattress as leverage. He came home immediately (his boss telling him to stay with me and just use one of his personal days to cover it) and fetched the walker. By this point I had collapsed onto my rear end as I could not stay on my knees any longer. Within 10-20 minutes I finally got my knees back under me and was able to convince my already tired and shaking arms (from my earlier attempts to get myself up) to haul my big, fat body up off of the floor.
But while I waited for Richard to get home, and already on my tush anyway, I decided since I had already prayed while on my knees, that I might as well stop crying and just think about my predicament. I have slowly been losing weight- it's certainly not been through any of my choices as I've been on a baking spree since before the holidays and literally stuffing sugar into my maw on a daily basis. I had gotten to the point when we moved into the house that I was using my wheelchair to get around (my excuse at the time was "it's a big house to get around, what with the long hallway and huge living room"). I still used my canes...to get from the wheelchair to the bedroom and vice vera, and I do stand up in the kitchen if I need something from an upper cupboard or the pantry, but I wasn't really getting anything in the way of exercise because I just sat in my wheelchair and rolled myself around the house.
By yesterday my knees were decent enough that I set the wheelchair aside and started using my walker. I have now learned that I need to start wearing a pair of shoes in the house as my slippers are not walker-safe and to go barefoot leaves footprints on the laminate. Thursday, when I fell, I made the decision to stop baking cookies and having ready forms of sugar in the house. Let me tell you, sugar detox sucks. I plan to allow bread and fruit and am focused only on sugar itself for the next couple of weeks, then I eliminate the diet soda from my life. So, Miya, this is the perfect time to have received the book you sent me. Not just for me, but for Richard. His A1C is still high, but mine had been within good levels... but I admit I used that excuse to keep eating sugar, conveniently setting aside the fact that the meds wouldn't keep me in check forever. I don't need insulin and would love to push that need off for as long as possible.
Do I want a candy bar or cookie? Heck yeah, but I know that I have no restraint and will only want more and more of them until I get nauseated (I know because this is usually how it goes for me: eat a lot of junk, feel sick, tell myself never again and then as soon as I start to feel better about an hour later I find myself thinking "maybe just one more", Yeah, I am that kind of idiot, but it proves that sugar has never been nor will never be anything more than a weakness. I am a sugar addict, I have been most of my life, and I don't want it to be anymore. I've given it up in the past and I will do so again. I am not done with baking... in fact I should probably bake some bread tomorrow, but no more cookies for awhile because I suck at moderation... in fact we all gravitate to the cookie jar when we know there is something in there. I'll still post recipes though, not all of us are irresponsible with the sweet stuff.
I have a long way to go with my weight and getting my health somewhere better that here. I stepped on the scale yesterday- I had waited to be sure I could actually balance on the thing without my knees wussing out. While working for Dan I was able to stand for long periods of time, walk without assistance, even sit down on the floor and get myself back up again. I want that back, for a start anyway. There is only 50 pounds of fat between Utah Shawna and New Mexico Shawna. 50 pounds will not just fly off because I start using my walker, but if I start my PT exercises again, use the walker and stay away from sugar then it's possible. It certainly feels possible and not like I am asking myself to do some Herculean task and start crossfit or some other extreme effort. From there I will finally be under 400 (yay) and can take on the next 50 pounds. Even if it is slow going its still a better plan that just sitting on my butt and waiting for someone to come rescue me.
So today I sit at 426, down from my highest weight of 487... now that I look at that, wow, that's 61 pounds. But then I look at the last time I got on the scale (before the holidays) where I see that with all of that binge eating of sugar I gained back 10 in 3 months time. I can do 50 pounds, but its a hard thing to swallow that the next 10 I lose will be purely from the holidays... damn.
In the end it isn't the number on the scale that makes me decide when I am happy with the outcome, but it is definitely a tool I am happy to have to mark my progress, for good or ill. Maybe by this time next year I can get my own butt off of the floor if I roll off the bed. But then again, maybe at a lighter weight the mattress won't dip enough to tip me off in the first place.
So here is where I stand: Up 10 pounds to 426, my waist measures 65" and my hips 71 1/2" Yeah, looking at those numbers I really don't want a cookie quite as badly now.
So I grabbed my camera anyway and took the shots I wanted through the windows, which we all know is not ideal AT ALL. Still, it felt good to be using my camera again for something more than shots so I can post things onto eBay.
So why didn't I brave the snow anyway? Because on Thursday I flew out of bed, or rather fell. It's not the first time I have slid off the bed when getting too close to the edge- the mattress is marshmallowy soft, which I love after how firm my hospital bed was, but my weight dips the mattress when I get to the edge and I hit the carpet hard, sometimes I smack my head on the nightstand, but (thankfully) more often than not I land on my knees. It is incredibly painful, given that both knees need replacing, but at least from my knees I can get up. With assistance- Richard has to go get my walker so I can use it to climb up from. If I wind up on my behind, its less painful, but definitely not a position I can do much of anything from (other than cry). Working my weight (and fusing spine) to twist so I can get my legs underneath me makes me want to scream from the pain. It takes ages, I get angry with myself, with my body, with this stupid disability... it all boils down to the same thing in the end anyway, tears and maybe a scream of pain or two (thank goodness falling from bed usually means I still have my CPAP mask still on, so not only can I still breathe, but screams are fairly muffled.
My knees were still painful to the touch Sunday and there was no way I wanted to risk a fall outside where I would be smacking into cold, hard concrete.
So sitting there on the floor, Sam and Oliver both frantically grabbing onto me and trying to tug me up onto the bed (which was incredibly sweet, but I also know now how it would feel like to be mauled by small predators, which I would rather never experience again. I finally called Richard (who was just arriving at work) because there was no way I was going to get up by using my canes or the marshmallow mattress as leverage. He came home immediately (his boss telling him to stay with me and just use one of his personal days to cover it) and fetched the walker. By this point I had collapsed onto my rear end as I could not stay on my knees any longer. Within 10-20 minutes I finally got my knees back under me and was able to convince my already tired and shaking arms (from my earlier attempts to get myself up) to haul my big, fat body up off of the floor.
But while I waited for Richard to get home, and already on my tush anyway, I decided since I had already prayed while on my knees, that I might as well stop crying and just think about my predicament. I have slowly been losing weight- it's certainly not been through any of my choices as I've been on a baking spree since before the holidays and literally stuffing sugar into my maw on a daily basis. I had gotten to the point when we moved into the house that I was using my wheelchair to get around (my excuse at the time was "it's a big house to get around, what with the long hallway and huge living room"). I still used my canes...to get from the wheelchair to the bedroom and vice vera, and I do stand up in the kitchen if I need something from an upper cupboard or the pantry, but I wasn't really getting anything in the way of exercise because I just sat in my wheelchair and rolled myself around the house.
By yesterday my knees were decent enough that I set the wheelchair aside and started using my walker. I have now learned that I need to start wearing a pair of shoes in the house as my slippers are not walker-safe and to go barefoot leaves footprints on the laminate. Thursday, when I fell, I made the decision to stop baking cookies and having ready forms of sugar in the house. Let me tell you, sugar detox sucks. I plan to allow bread and fruit and am focused only on sugar itself for the next couple of weeks, then I eliminate the diet soda from my life. So, Miya, this is the perfect time to have received the book you sent me. Not just for me, but for Richard. His A1C is still high, but mine had been within good levels... but I admit I used that excuse to keep eating sugar, conveniently setting aside the fact that the meds wouldn't keep me in check forever. I don't need insulin and would love to push that need off for as long as possible.
Do I want a candy bar or cookie? Heck yeah, but I know that I have no restraint and will only want more and more of them until I get nauseated (I know because this is usually how it goes for me: eat a lot of junk, feel sick, tell myself never again and then as soon as I start to feel better about an hour later I find myself thinking "maybe just one more", Yeah, I am that kind of idiot, but it proves that sugar has never been nor will never be anything more than a weakness. I am a sugar addict, I have been most of my life, and I don't want it to be anymore. I've given it up in the past and I will do so again. I am not done with baking... in fact I should probably bake some bread tomorrow, but no more cookies for awhile because I suck at moderation... in fact we all gravitate to the cookie jar when we know there is something in there. I'll still post recipes though, not all of us are irresponsible with the sweet stuff.
I have a long way to go with my weight and getting my health somewhere better that here. I stepped on the scale yesterday- I had waited to be sure I could actually balance on the thing without my knees wussing out. While working for Dan I was able to stand for long periods of time, walk without assistance, even sit down on the floor and get myself back up again. I want that back, for a start anyway. There is only 50 pounds of fat between Utah Shawna and New Mexico Shawna. 50 pounds will not just fly off because I start using my walker, but if I start my PT exercises again, use the walker and stay away from sugar then it's possible. It certainly feels possible and not like I am asking myself to do some Herculean task and start crossfit or some other extreme effort. From there I will finally be under 400 (yay) and can take on the next 50 pounds. Even if it is slow going its still a better plan that just sitting on my butt and waiting for someone to come rescue me.
So today I sit at 426, down from my highest weight of 487... now that I look at that, wow, that's 61 pounds. But then I look at the last time I got on the scale (before the holidays) where I see that with all of that binge eating of sugar I gained back 10 in 3 months time. I can do 50 pounds, but its a hard thing to swallow that the next 10 I lose will be purely from the holidays... damn.
In the end it isn't the number on the scale that makes me decide when I am happy with the outcome, but it is definitely a tool I am happy to have to mark my progress, for good or ill. Maybe by this time next year I can get my own butt off of the floor if I roll off the bed. But then again, maybe at a lighter weight the mattress won't dip enough to tip me off in the first place.
So here is where I stand: Up 10 pounds to 426, my waist measures 65" and my hips 71 1/2" Yeah, looking at those numbers I really don't want a cookie quite as badly now.
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