Before transition, I frequently isolated myself. There were a lot of reasons for that. I didn’t like the life I was forced to live and I was ashamed of my obese appearance and habits. I walled off the world whenever I could. I had no social life and apart from my children, no close relationships. One or two were closer than others, but no one, no one knew my heart. I promised myself that if I ever transitioned, I would tear down the walls and get a life.
But old habits die hard and so I seek comfortable surroundings when confronted with life’s truths, trials and trouble. There are no happy endings, just happy moments; moments that are all too fleeting and endlessly stalked by the next failure, the next betrayal or the next disappointment. Delight is smothered by the shadow of something waiting to destroy my joy, break my resolve and send me running for sanctuary.
Thus I have spent a lot of time this year in an alternate world. I do what must be done in this world then travel to another place where time doesn’t matter, deadlines don’t exist and dealing with the ugliness can always wait one more day. I drop my purse and computer bag on the couch. I walk by days of dirty dishes, weeks of dirty laundry, unopened mail and overflowing trash cans. I ignore the flashing light on the phone, the looming health issues and a solid start on the food plan. I rush to the portal, jack-in and in moments I am gone.
In this alternate world I am a forensic archeologist using my scientific talents to solve murders and resist my attraction to the FBI agent I work with. I am a brilliant structural engineer breaking my innocent brother out of prison. I am a quirky New York Police Detective solving major cases. I am a recovered coma victim that with one touch can see your future or something in your past. I am young genius who discovers how to stabilize the "Einstein-Rosen-Podolsky bridge” so I can “slide” to alternate Earths. I am anything I want to be, can do anything I need to do and sooner or later, I always triumph.
In the morning I awake having traveled back sometime in the night. I am tired and groggy and smashed to pieces. I sigh deeply, “Shit.” The tears well up. Through the haze I see the remnants of last night’s journey; the consequences piled atop the crushing weight of all those other tasks left undone. I want to go back, but I can’t. I cry as fear lays over me as surely as my blanket. A thousand ticks tocked last night, little bits of my life redeemable only in this world, worthless where I’ve been, thrown away; bits taken from a finite reservoir whose depth is known to no one. And so each morning goes, wondering if the road will end before the journey does.
I have to pee. I kick off the blanket and wrench myself out of bed. In the bathroom I stand only inches from the mirror. The tears have washed my eyes to a brilliant blue and my cheeks are rosy red. I rub the sleep from my eyes and just stare. “You have great skin; I’ll give you that much girl.”
Hope’s a funny thing.
Take Care,
Billie
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Edema Part 3 of 3
The reduced circulation that causes edema also makes it harder for my body to fight infection, particularly on the skin. The bumps are apparently small, local infections caused by normally harmless bacteria typically found on the skin. Who knew they would turn out to be little opportunistic bastards; at the first chance they get, stabbing me in the back or leg as it were?
The strategy is to hunt down the treasonous little buggers with both a frontal assault and parachuting troops in behind their lines. The frontal assault is an antibiotic ointment applied topically three times a day. It’s thick and has a tacky feel once applied. It must be like one of those “humane” sticky traps for rodents that holds them in place, alive, until you have a chance to dispatch them somehow. I will have to wear dresses more often because my slacks stick to the medication.
To sneak up on the troublemakers from behind, a broad spectrum antibiotic was added to the mix. I will take this pill four times a day for ten days. I am keeping my fingers crossed on this one. I have been on so many antibiotics over the past 18 months, it’s anybody’s guess what is going to work. Hopefully whatever is responsible for the trouble down there won’t be able to mount a strong resistance.
The last medication is designed to aid in alleviating the root cause, too much weight. I have not been able to sustain a good food plan for more than a day or two. I have fallen into a horrible sedentary routine along with eating too much food, particularly in the evening. This pill is supposed to help with the food. It is an appetite suppressant. It is a stimulant. It is a psychological boost. It is a tool, a short term one at that. It’s worth a try.
As I write this, my dining table is covered with more pill bottles than you’d find in a small pharmacy. I have not mentioned the proton pump inhibitor I take, the nasal spray, the inhaler or the girl pills I take twice a day. There are also the vitamins and calcium. And nearly all of this is because I eat too much food. Food. I am not sick, I have no diseases, I simply eat too much. What's up with that?
Why is cracking this so difficult? I know what to do; I just have to do it. I see my future, likely a short one, laid out on the table in orange bottles with white caps. But is this finally enough? Have I reached the tipping point or will I simply adjust like I have in the past? Will I accommodate the addiction or annihilate it? In the dark when I am alone and the only sound is the hum of the refrigerator, I stand face to face with my choices and fear the only possible victory will be found in death. The dead don’t eat. Well…except for Zombies of course.
And just in case anyone takes this wrong, I don’t see suicide as a solution. Although it has the benefit of ending the overeating problem, it has a fatal flaw, literally. Any solution must also allow one to enjoy life being thin.
I can change this; I’ve beaten it before. I must change this.
In the meantime, perhaps I should take the stimulant and the diuretic in the afternoon instead of the morning. I may be up all night, but I’ll be too busy peeing to eat.
Take Care,
Billie
The strategy is to hunt down the treasonous little buggers with both a frontal assault and parachuting troops in behind their lines. The frontal assault is an antibiotic ointment applied topically three times a day. It’s thick and has a tacky feel once applied. It must be like one of those “humane” sticky traps for rodents that holds them in place, alive, until you have a chance to dispatch them somehow. I will have to wear dresses more often because my slacks stick to the medication.
To sneak up on the troublemakers from behind, a broad spectrum antibiotic was added to the mix. I will take this pill four times a day for ten days. I am keeping my fingers crossed on this one. I have been on so many antibiotics over the past 18 months, it’s anybody’s guess what is going to work. Hopefully whatever is responsible for the trouble down there won’t be able to mount a strong resistance.
The last medication is designed to aid in alleviating the root cause, too much weight. I have not been able to sustain a good food plan for more than a day or two. I have fallen into a horrible sedentary routine along with eating too much food, particularly in the evening. This pill is supposed to help with the food. It is an appetite suppressant. It is a stimulant. It is a psychological boost. It is a tool, a short term one at that. It’s worth a try.
As I write this, my dining table is covered with more pill bottles than you’d find in a small pharmacy. I have not mentioned the proton pump inhibitor I take, the nasal spray, the inhaler or the girl pills I take twice a day. There are also the vitamins and calcium. And nearly all of this is because I eat too much food. Food. I am not sick, I have no diseases, I simply eat too much. What's up with that?
Why is cracking this so difficult? I know what to do; I just have to do it. I see my future, likely a short one, laid out on the table in orange bottles with white caps. But is this finally enough? Have I reached the tipping point or will I simply adjust like I have in the past? Will I accommodate the addiction or annihilate it? In the dark when I am alone and the only sound is the hum of the refrigerator, I stand face to face with my choices and fear the only possible victory will be found in death. The dead don’t eat. Well…except for Zombies of course.
And just in case anyone takes this wrong, I don’t see suicide as a solution. Although it has the benefit of ending the overeating problem, it has a fatal flaw, literally. Any solution must also allow one to enjoy life being thin.
I can change this; I’ve beaten it before. I must change this.
In the meantime, perhaps I should take the stimulant and the diuretic in the afternoon instead of the morning. I may be up all night, but I’ll be too busy peeing to eat.
Take Care,
Billie
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Edema Part 2 of 3
Due to the length of this piece, I am posting it in three parts. This is part two.
Edema is the accumulation of serum in the spaces between cells. Poor circulation is the typical cause. As blood backs up, it leaches fluid into those spaces, which then accumulates and causes swelling. It can be a symptom of disease or, as in my case, a result of obesity.
It takes only 3,500 extra calories to create a pound of fat. Each pound of new fat requires the body to create seven miles of blood vessels to nurture it. In my last Body Composition Analysis, I was carrying 150 pounds of excess fat. That’s over 1,000 miles of blood vessels to support that adipose mass; from Phoenix to Denver, Colorado. Is it any wonder my poor heart, now nearly 58 years old, is having some trouble keeping up?
So I was prescribed a wheelbarrow full of medications. I was already taking three pills that barely kept my blood pressure in check. After a zillion tests earlier this year, the only issue found was a slight enlargement of my heart due to my moderately high blood pressure; which try as they might, never seems to leave the 140’s. I was told to stop taking one of those pills as it can cause fluid retention.
In its place, I am now taking a strong diuretic that causes me to pee every 20 minutes for the first several hours of the day. The first time I took it, I had to pee like a Russian race horse by time I got to work! (Interestingly enough, that expression comes from the fact that racehorses are given the same diuretic I am on, presumably to lighten the load since water weighs eight pounds per gallon.) I am reminded of the doctor who once told me I was healthy as a horse, I just weighted as much as one. The nights will be rough if I take this one too late in the day.
Peeing a lot means the body looses crucial minerals, Potassium in particular. Potassium is critical for proper heart function. So now I take two Potassium pills a day. Staying with the equine theme, they are freakin’ “horse pills.” It’s a good thing I don’t have any phobias around swallowing pills!
The rest of the pills on Monday along with my exciting conclusion!
Take Care,
Billie
Edema is the accumulation of serum in the spaces between cells. Poor circulation is the typical cause. As blood backs up, it leaches fluid into those spaces, which then accumulates and causes swelling. It can be a symptom of disease or, as in my case, a result of obesity.
It takes only 3,500 extra calories to create a pound of fat. Each pound of new fat requires the body to create seven miles of blood vessels to nurture it. In my last Body Composition Analysis, I was carrying 150 pounds of excess fat. That’s over 1,000 miles of blood vessels to support that adipose mass; from Phoenix to Denver, Colorado. Is it any wonder my poor heart, now nearly 58 years old, is having some trouble keeping up?
So I was prescribed a wheelbarrow full of medications. I was already taking three pills that barely kept my blood pressure in check. After a zillion tests earlier this year, the only issue found was a slight enlargement of my heart due to my moderately high blood pressure; which try as they might, never seems to leave the 140’s. I was told to stop taking one of those pills as it can cause fluid retention.
In its place, I am now taking a strong diuretic that causes me to pee every 20 minutes for the first several hours of the day. The first time I took it, I had to pee like a Russian race horse by time I got to work! (Interestingly enough, that expression comes from the fact that racehorses are given the same diuretic I am on, presumably to lighten the load since water weighs eight pounds per gallon.) I am reminded of the doctor who once told me I was healthy as a horse, I just weighted as much as one. The nights will be rough if I take this one too late in the day.
Peeing a lot means the body looses crucial minerals, Potassium in particular. Potassium is critical for proper heart function. So now I take two Potassium pills a day. Staying with the equine theme, they are freakin’ “horse pills.” It’s a good thing I don’t have any phobias around swallowing pills!
The rest of the pills on Monday along with my exciting conclusion!
Take Care,
Billie
Edema Part 1 of 3
Due to the length of this piece, I will be posting it in three parts over the next three days.
Private note to my Evangelical friend with the Jewish Mother: I say this in my best imitation of the Prophets of old, “Stand fast and read these words with dread as they will open your eyes and behold, you will see your future.” (Well, maybe not the pedicure part, although I highly recommend it.) :)
A pedicure is one of the most luxurious experiences in the world. There is the usual treatment of trimming nails and removing calluses of course. But the full treatment includes a foot and calf massage, sea salt scrub, mint lotion with calves wrapped in hot towels, moisturizer rubdown and a paraffin treatment for the feet. For the price, there is nothing like it, and you have pretty feet and toes to show off in your summer sandals!
Who knew that a pedicure could be a diagnostic tool?
During my pedicure two weeks ago, I noticed my calves didn’t “jiggle” like calves do when you tap them from the outside of your leg. There was no movement at all, they were solid. I pressed on the skin and there was no “give;” as if I was pushing on the shin bone itself. Both of my lower legs were tight and firm as if they had somehow been filled with sand. No matter how hard I tried to relax the muscle, the result was the same.
This was troublesome. I have dealt with minor swelling in my feet for some time, but this was different; this was something I had not seen before. Still denial springs eternal. Perhaps it was temporary; perhaps it would go away in a couple of days. It didn’t, it got worse.
There was no pain, no itching. My feet weren’t blue or cold. But along the shin, the skin started getting red and tight enough that it shined like a bald man’s head. I started seeing bumps appear just below the calf muscles about two inches above my ankles, or what was left of them.
Then two of those bumps burst open and began leaking fluid. (I found out later the medical name for that fluid is serum.) If I pressed on the sore, the pressure would force more fluid out, leaving a small indentation. During the day the serum would creep down my ankle and dry into a clear crust that I would have to wipe off with wash cloth when I got home from work.
So yesterday I went to the doctor.
Private note to my Evangelical friend with the Jewish Mother: I say this in my best imitation of the Prophets of old, “Stand fast and read these words with dread as they will open your eyes and behold, you will see your future.” (Well, maybe not the pedicure part, although I highly recommend it.) :)
A pedicure is one of the most luxurious experiences in the world. There is the usual treatment of trimming nails and removing calluses of course. But the full treatment includes a foot and calf massage, sea salt scrub, mint lotion with calves wrapped in hot towels, moisturizer rubdown and a paraffin treatment for the feet. For the price, there is nothing like it, and you have pretty feet and toes to show off in your summer sandals!
Who knew that a pedicure could be a diagnostic tool?
During my pedicure two weeks ago, I noticed my calves didn’t “jiggle” like calves do when you tap them from the outside of your leg. There was no movement at all, they were solid. I pressed on the skin and there was no “give;” as if I was pushing on the shin bone itself. Both of my lower legs were tight and firm as if they had somehow been filled with sand. No matter how hard I tried to relax the muscle, the result was the same.
This was troublesome. I have dealt with minor swelling in my feet for some time, but this was different; this was something I had not seen before. Still denial springs eternal. Perhaps it was temporary; perhaps it would go away in a couple of days. It didn’t, it got worse.
There was no pain, no itching. My feet weren’t blue or cold. But along the shin, the skin started getting red and tight enough that it shined like a bald man’s head. I started seeing bumps appear just below the calf muscles about two inches above my ankles, or what was left of them.
Then two of those bumps burst open and began leaking fluid. (I found out later the medical name for that fluid is serum.) If I pressed on the sore, the pressure would force more fluid out, leaving a small indentation. During the day the serum would creep down my ankle and dry into a clear crust that I would have to wipe off with wash cloth when I got home from work.
So yesterday I went to the doctor.
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