Rainy Days and Mondays...

To be perfectly honest, I am not sure how I am feeling at the moment.
A) Grateful for my life?
B)Pissed at my life?
C)Numb?
D) All of the above?
Mostly "D".  The answer's always "D".

A week and a half ago, my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer.  When my mother first told me I was actually pretty ok.  Prostate cancer is just one of those things that happen to men at a certain age, and if caught early...pretty damn treatable.  Of course my first inclination was 'to get it out'...cut 'im open and take it out.  And both Mom and Dad were of like mind.  I think most of my family was.

Then I met with my own doctor for my own self...and he said the risks of surgery are worse than the disease, or at least the odds to extend his life were minimal at best - I thought, maybe we need to rethink this. And again, family agreed.  So back to their doctor(s) they went.  This time to an oncologist.  Which led to a pelvic scan.  Which led to a new diagnoses of kidney cancer.

And that's all we know.  We don't know what stage, we don't know how bad, how invasive, how long, what treatments beyond surgery or even when surgery needs to take place.  I'm just in limbo.  We're all in limbo.

And I know I need to take this one step at a time.  He has a bone scan on Thursday.  A meeting with the oncologist on Monday.  Will they tell me weeks or years?  I don't know.  Am I grateful I've already planned a trip home?  Of course.  Am I aware that my father is 78 years old and grateful I've had him this long?  Of course.  But do we typically want all we can get?  Oh yes.

My Dad is my hero.  My John Wayne.  My fighter pilot.  The old man you see at a war memorial.  He has laid bare his life for this country and his family.  He's more worried about my Mom than himself.

And at the moment...there's nothing I can do.  In a family of type "A" personalities...that's problematic.  And who should we tell when?  Do we panic people for nothing?  Or give them a chance to wrap their own brains around the process?  I just don't know.

What I can do is pray.  I can pray that it's simply a single kidney.  A single prostate thingy.  I don't know how all those parts work.  I know I don't want it to be in his bones.  I know I'm not yet ready to say good-bye.  I do know that the man just has to get a hearing aid before it's over so he can hear me say I love him.  I know he knows it, but I want him to hear me.

I want to tell him about my wonderful trip to Seattle.  Where I got to see world famous fishermen toss their fish as a sales team.  Something I saw in a team building exorcize years back.


That I got to see Kurt Cobain's memorial (not that my dad knows who Kurt Cobain is nor that I almost never listened to Nirvana)...but I did get a private bus tour of some of the more interesting neighborhoods and history of the seamy side of Seattle.

That after 35 years, I finally found real, live mango-stein fruit.  An obsession of mine since I left Bangkok at 6 years old.  Couldn't find it in LA, San Francisco, or the world market in Atlanta...but in a huge Asian market in Seattle...I could buy all I wanted for $13.99/lb!  I bought four.  Fruits, not pounds.

From there, I walked to Nordstrom's.  Just because I'm a girl and the original is 9 floors of over-priced wares.  When I spied a beautiful rhinestone necklace, the sales lady assured me it was a steal.  I told her the next time $129 was a steal...I'd be back.

Instead I spent my money on a 'Ride the Ducks' amphibious tour of a different part of the city.  One part on land, the other part on sea.  A stellar adventure both ways.  And after my four mile walk (that I'm incredibly proud of)...I finished the day with a quick ride up the Space Needle.

But throughout all of that one-day adventure...I just kept thinking how much my parents would like to know that I'm enjoying my life.  And no matter what lies in the future...the one thing that would make my dad happy is knowing I'm happy and making myself just as healthy as I can be.  Please join me as I pray he can watch me do that just as long as he possibly can.

Me...

Boom Chuckalucka Boom Boom

So I'm sitting here with 84 cents to my name until I get paid tomorrow and I couldn't be happier.  Since January I have lost a whopping 50 pounds and I feel fabulous!

On the Fourth of July, I drove Mrs. Kravits up to the quaint and country town of Rutledge, GA to attend the Sunflower festival.  Those who know me well know that Sunflowers are one of my all time favorite flowers and how better to spend a summer day than in the midst of thousands of them!  I had spent hours the weeks before downloading all my favorite tunes to a flash drive so we could sing a long in the car...but Mrs. Kravits was in a bit of a dour mood on the ride up.  Her life story is tragic at best and some days are worse than others.  But as we turned the corner to the field of flowers, her mood definitely lifted and by the end of our time there she was positively radiant.  We took pictures of each other riding tractors and clowning around with gourd masks.  We wandered the stalls of local artisans hawking their wares and chatted with the shop keepers about the work that they do.  I was surreptitiously taking snapshots of some of the crafts thinking 'hell...I could do that!'  And at the end of our time, I forked over $15 and got a pair of clippers and a bucket to cut as many sunflowers as I could hold.

I took a wrong turn on the way out of the place when we were leaving and told Mrs. Kravits not to worry...I had my handy dandy navigator with me.  We would find our way home.  Little had I realized at that moment that I had turned the settings to take surface streets instead of the freeway.  As we laughed our asses off mid-way through our maze home...we realized what a gift it was.  We didn't spend our 60 miles staring at asphalt and useless billboards, but instead wound our way through multiple tiny towns filled with antebellum homes and acres of farmland.  Toward the end, a merciful rain began to fall easing the heat and releasing one of my favorite emanations - that of big juicy raindrops hitting scorching red clay.  It's a scent that can only be found in the South, when the ground gets so hot it's almost like a fire-pit.  And when the rain hits, the explosion of musty dirt and fragrant grasses permeates your nostrils until it feels almost like you are being reborn into the nature around you.

When we finally turned the corner to our street, I could see the soft stain of sunburn across Mrs. Kravits's face where she had smiled the day away.  Forgetting the drama her family creates and just enjoying the time away.  That alone was worth the trip.

After taking a short catnap, I got up and started anew.  A fresh shower to wash the rank away, slipping on khaki's I haven't worn in years and wearing my favorite new pair of shoes: patent leather turquoise wedge sandals that make me feel like super model on a cat-walk.  I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shoes...I'm too sexy :)  Went over to my friend Mark's girlfriend's loft downtown.  Up on the fifth floor roof top we grilled steaks, drank wine and watched the multiple profusion of fireworks that littered the city skyline.  I could see three different performances from our vantage point, making it seem like it was theatre in the round.  Of course the glittering waterfalls occurring just a few miles out from us seemed so close we could have grabbed the stardust in our hands - and the reflection of them echoing in the glass tiled buildings didn't hurt my feelings one bit.  It was nice for a moment to remember why I love this country.  The 30 or so on-lookers with us broke out every once in a while in bad but beautiful renditions of America and the Star Spangled Banner...the lack of professionalism well overrun by the heartfelt sentiment behind the lyrics.

The last week or so, I've been dutifully crossing off the list of to-do items I've put off for too long.  I finally made a mammogram appt. - something I've been dreading.  I mean seriously, who the hell wants to put their privates in a freaking cold metal clamping mechanism?  I feel like it's a humorless attempt to make patties out of my boobies.

I wrote my friend a long letter as he patiently spends his days in prison for horrible choices he made in addiction.  I pray for him constantly as he finds his way out of the bleak whole he put himself in.

I started tending to my garden once again.  Something my whale of a body was loath to do of late.  And for my effort, I accidentally began to grow a crop of...zucchini.  No wait, cucumbers...nope, I see the fruit now...it's fucking cantaloupe!  You would have though God could have made greater distinctions in the leaf and flowering patterns of edible greens.  Apparently when I was throwing in some home grown mulch...I threw in the seeds of a long rotten cantaloupe I had cut for myself.  What I had intended to be a beautiful string of liriope and golden oros has been overtaken by the extravagant and flourishing vines of hearty fruit. Too cheap to spring for tomato cages...I made do with an old wrought iron table, chairs and easel I've been intending to refurbish.  Officially proving that it's way too easy to be white trash when your roots are deep South.  Also note my garden bird, his huge green globey eyes poking out from amidst the tundra!

Over the weekend, I volunteered my time and energy at the Church Jumble Sale we hold every year to benefit the teenagers' mission trip each fall.  Come July, we Epiphanites haul in our old, unwanted wares...and then spend the weekend buying each others crap.  We raised $7000 with this effort though...proving that one man's junk is another man's treasure!  I bought two god-awful chairs with great lines and am beyond excited to refurbish them.  I found a great upholstery class that starts this fall just a few miles from my house at the technical college.  I can hardly stand the wait!  I have grand visions of stripping off the crayola orange paint and narly Naugahyde and recovering in some timeless fabric and crisp white enamal, studded with gleaming nickel upholstery tacks!

I wrapped up this week with the bone crushing relief that the ballsy request I made for a raise (amidst thousands of layoffs) was not only approved, but substantial.  I can see some light at the end of my debt laden tunnel as I spent the better part of an evening figuring out how to squirrel some of my fortune away into savings while I chip away at the mountain of red ink in my life.  I can actually feel the stress slip away from my shoulders as I see a week not left with 84 cents, but a couple of bills in my pocket.  Now that's a good feeling!

As always...thanks for letting me share.  I am constantly filled with gratitude for the multitude of friendships in my life.

Cam

Week 5

So if 21 is the year of living dangerously...The year of 41 is living selfishly.  For one thing, I can't believe I'm 41.  It's not even a concept I can wrap my brain around.  I am officially middle age and I don't know how to process that information.

What I do know is that I feel like that the last few years of my life have been lost in a vacuum.  Not wasted perhaps - a lot of growth has come in these last few years.  I keep thinking about my father's statement that you don't get smart until your 40.  So by that measure, I'm just getting started.  But I spent an awful lot of time sitting at home either stuffing my face or feeling sorry for myself or just killing time.  And it's the last statement that really bothers me.

If you're stuffing your face or feeling sorry for yourself, there's still an action involved.  Albeit an unhealthy one - but an action nonetheless.  But the killing time thing - that's a waste of a life.  Going back to the God thing - that was really the thing that made me feel the most guilty.  I truly feel that God put us on this life to LIVE.  To feel, the grow, to think, to explore.  Not all of it will feel good.  Some of it will suck. A lot of it will be routine.  But to give up on the gift of looking forward is I think is one of the biggest sins in this life and it's not even listed in the top 10.  I don't know, but maybe God thought living by the original ten would inherently create the concept of hope - but since I haven't always done such a good job of following them - maybe I missed something along the way.

What I do know is that hope, excitement, the future (today)  are all very relevant to me now.  I don't want to sit at home and wait for when I have the time, have the money, have the man, have the family to do the things I want to do NOW. Of course there has to be a balance of sorts.  You do have to plan for the future or you'll  be screwed then too - but seriously, I never have looked back and said "Wow - I really wish I hadn't have taken that one month of my life at 21 to drive from Austin to Connecticut and back." And even for the hot second of my marriage - I only rarely think I should have foregone it.  I did at least look hot for my wedding and gain a fabulous week in Cabo for my trouble.  Hell - even 10 years later I finagled a stunning sofa out of that deal...so it wasn't ALL bad.

But somewhere along the way I got complacent.  I got lazy about living.  God didn't put us on this earth to just breath in, out and die.  He put us here to experience the wonder and the majesty of the world around us.  To take in the good, the bad and the ugly along with the awesome ability to rise above those things and thrive.

So this past week I've been planning out the ways to maximize the opportunities I have before me so that I'm actually DOING something with the life I have. 

For the fourth of July I found a uniquely Georgia event not far from home.  It's a sunflower festival just 40 miles up the road.  Good eats, sunflowers for miles, and an arts festival all rolled up into one. A lot like the strawberry festival in California without the dickhead of a date I brought with me to that one!  Instead I'll take Mrs. Kravits who I think is suffering from her own bout of fatalism.  If sunflowers can't cure her - I don't know what will.

In fact, I'm finally taking her up on her offer of a beach trip in Florida the week after.  She's been bugging me for years to go - and through my own bout of isolationism - I've always found a reasonable reason not to go.  But why on earth would a rational person avoid a free place to stay at the beach??  Bring on the 70SPF and let's hit the sand!

I've already mentioned the summer trip to Austin and the long desired trip to Schlitterbahn.  But in between, I want to hit some other sites as well.  I want to actually ride the tram up to see Stone Mountain just a few miles from my house.  Five years and I've never seen the enormous bas-relief on its north face, the largest bas-relief in the world?? The carving depicts three figures of the Confederate States of America: Stonewall Jackson, Robert E. Lee, and Jefferson Davis. (yeah - I copied that from Wikipedia, hence all the links :) )  But still - It's a gorgeous park and I've never done the most obvious of tourist attractions there.

I did go to the Wren's Nest house a couple of weekends ago.  Neat house, much more interesting history.  Home of Joel Harris Chandler, author of all the "Uncle Remus" stories.  If that doesn't ring a bell, think Brear Rabbit. 

Within the next 12 months I want to get over to Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA.  Two of the biggest draws of moving to Atlanta in the first place.  And I've never been.  Because I didn't have the money or didn't have the time.  You know, both those reasons are bullshit.  I nickle and dime my way out of Target or the grocery store all the time.  I always seem to have the money there.  What I want to do this year is avoid the plastic I bring home every week and save that for real memories.  Real living.  Real investment in my real GD life.  That's what God meant for me to do here and I've been frittering it away like I've got all the time in the world to do it.  And the reality is...none of us do.

Quit sitting on the sidelines of life and go live it.  I've got lots of inspiration from so many of you...and for that I am eternally grateful.

Loving all of you,

Cam

Week 4

I have to say thank you for all the wonderful comments and posts to my last email.  I guess God took pity on my whining and heeded your loving comments...because I finally broke free of the 244 lb. barrier!  Officially down to 239 - 25 pounds and counting!!  Yeah!

It's been a strange couple of weeks.  Interviewing for a job I already have -  which blessedly seems to be re-instated to me. Apparently impressing some folks with a binding machine...a tool I've been using for 10 years.  I remember impressing another boss with said tool back then.  Little does anyone know I just find the machine fascinating and will use any excuse to use it :)  Setting up interviews for other people...for jobs which they already have - but not have next week. 

My sister Rebel came in town with her family on their way to Williamsburg, VA - 1/2 work, 1/2 vacation.  We had a wonderful dinner with my Aunt and Uncle and cousins.  You know it's always touch and go with family...but happy to report that everyone seemed to have a really nice time.  Even the youngun's.  I remember being bored as hell during family reunion type events, but my youngest nephew just made himself at home telling tall tales of public-school persecution and being wrongfully accused for being a bully.  I believe the school labeled it terrorism??!!  Where have we come in this world????

Then Mrs. Kravits had to go up north (Georgia that is...not NY) to care for her pseudo-daughter in law while she had an appendectomy or something, so I'm left to buy an 18 pack each night for her brother.  Seriously - Old English 800 Malt Liquor.  I'm not lying.

Yesterday, which seems like a week ago, an old friend of mine came in for a 6 hour layover, so we tooled around Buckhead to seek out her old apartment and bars, only to discover all but the apartments had been torn down to build new strip malls.  After a lovely lunch (including a fabulous margarita!) I took her back to the airport only for her to find her flight cancelled and winding up just going home instead.

Today, I was at the church by 8:30 working on funeral floral arrangements, at work by 10am.  Discovered Travelocity was having a great summer sale and bought tickets back to Austin for the end of August.  Told Mom she could have me for three days, but Saturday I was going to Schlitterbahn!  Haven't been there in 20 years and been dreaming about it nearly as long.  World's largest water park!  Yeah!!!  Invited Rebel and the family, Ron, and left messages for Wende and Whit to see if we can't make it a family affair.  Anyone else in the area is more than welcome to come as far as I am concerned.  Saturday, August 27th. Let's go!

Really hoping to make the most of this summer as I believe this fall will be crazy busy.  In fact, I think I might just take Mrs. Kravits up on her offer to go to Panama Beach for the 4th of July.  Who cares if I'm fat?  It's not like I'm going to see these people again, right?  Really, it's more like a pig in $#!&/  A year from now - none of this will even matter.  Most stuff in life doesn't.

My thoughts for the day...


Cam

Week 3.5

One of the things I have never been very good at is letting others know when I'm not at 100%.  This is one of those times.

It's not that I'm not doing well.  I mean, really - it's pretty incredible how far I've come.  But I'm an impatient sort.  Hell, isn't that part of the reason I had surgery?  So even though I've lost 22 pounds, I'm frustrated that I haven't lost more.  I've hit a plateau and been stuck there for the last 10 days or so.

Other than a couple of odd days last week, I've been getting up with Mrs. Kravits and walking about a mile and a half, making my high protein shake and limiting my carbs to relatively nothing compared to a month ago and I'm fucking stuck.  It doesn't seem fair. 

But when I had my first post-op doctors appointment last week, the doc said I was doing great.  So why don't I feel that way?  Is this a product of my microwave generation?  Am I destined to always look at the sluggish pace of real life?  I want to be skinny now! Instead, I get on the scale and look at the same number over and over again. 

I bypass the fact that I've already boxed up half my closet and donated it to the fat relatives of Mrs. Kravits; and beyond that I've gone down a bra size  - meaning I no longer have to snap my bras in front and then swing it around while I hop like a freaking pogo stick to get my boobs and the cups in alignment.  That should be a celebration in itself.  But no - I linger on the fact that I still can't wedge my feet into the new shoes I bought a month ago in anticipation of being thinner in my feet.  I still have a double chin.  And my sugar levels still seem to be at diabetic levels.  Much lower to be sure - but not eliminated.

On the other hand, I am trying my best to remain rational.  The good news is that the plateau lets my body catch up to the weight loss - meaning my skin has time to regroup rather than just sag like a kangaroo.

I get irrationally happy that I still poo everyday like a normal person.  No one likes to talk about poo - but it's a good thing when it happens.  It means your body is digesting like it should and eliminating waste.  It's not a topic people share over lunch, but I was always pleased that at 10 am I could count on a good 'deposit'.  I was told that might change after surgery...and happily I'm still on schedule.

I like seeing my jawline for the first time in years.  I like putting on shorts I bought 3 years ago and being able to zip them up.  And I love the fact I was in better shape than my dog as we climbed the big hill behind my house for the first time last week. 

Two weeks ago I was feeling so over the moon happy I bought a new car.  It was such a girly reason too.  It was basically because I never like the orangy-red metallic color of the last car. and for once in my life, I owed less on a used car than it was worth.  So I was bored after church and didn't feel like going home.  Instead I went to the Kia dealership and test drove the rat-mobile (Kia Soul).  I fell in love immediately and didn't even bother to try and hide it.  Of course they sent me home with it (the beauty of being a buxom blue-eyed red-head with a Persion dealer!).  The next day they came withing $50 of my current payments and I signed the papers.  I should have negotiated a bit more, but I still got a pretty good deal.  I think the last time I had a brand new car was when I was 21.  I believe I was due.  Granted, the sales agent asked how I was feeling - and I said "scared".  He said "why are you scared?"  To which I replied: "Because I'm 41 years old and I've never made a decision without the approval of my parents.  If I tell them, I'm so grounded!"  So Whit or Rebel...if you read this - just keep your mouth shut.  You don't have to lie...but I doubt anyone will be asking a direct question on this topic.  And if you just can't help yourself (Rebel) - ultimately I broke even.  Insurance and gas consumption went down and I have a better warranty to boot.

Additionally, the last couple of weeks have been especially stressful as my company is going through a massive reorganization.  The boss that I love is leaving, but seems to be replaced with an equally cool Brit.  Others though are bailing, taking advantage of a very nice settlement package - leaving my team a bit in flux.  And while I am happy to be ensured of my job, I will miss some of the people I have worked with for the last two years.  Amazing how I have a knack for picking industries with overwhelming competition to survive.  Let's hope Nokia will find the wherewith all to get through this. Without this job, and the people supporting me - I might never have come this far.

Hope this updates everyone!

Cam

Week 2

So once again I stepped on the scale this morning.  The question everyone wants to know...how much have you lost???  In an stunning 12 days - not even a full two weeks, I have lost 20 pounds!  I keep thinking about pounds of butter.  It's like 20 boxes of butter had been taped to my body and they are gone! Melted off like I had stuck them in the microwave or something.

The next obvious questions have been - how do you feel?  Are you hungry?  What can you eat?

1.  I feel amazing.  After those few horrible days, I am amazed at my level of energy and the desire to accomplish things I've put off for months.  I reorganized my kitchen to make room for my protein powder, vitamins and supplements.

I finally sat down and filed the accumulation of papers I'd stuck in a box that said "to file".  It took me seven hours, but I finally waded to the bottom of the stack and feel great that everything is finally in order.

I've walked every day with the help of Mrs. Kravits - making it fully around my small block as of last Thursday.  Tomorrow we'll push on a little further.  I keep reminding myself I have a lifetime to add distance to my walk...right now it's about getting the routine in place.

I had Harry, the handyman, come by yesterday and we ripped out the horrible, shredded carpet that was in one of the guest rooms and prepped the plywood for me to paint.  I can't wait to create a fun and exciting alternative to traditional flooring in what will become my office/craftroom.

I had my toenails painted and my hair cut.  A treat to myself for coming this far.  It will be important to reward myself in new and different ways for accomplishments that don't include food.

I tried on clothes I wore just but a month ago and felt them glide on my body easily rather than sucking in my stomach to loop the buttons.  That is a feeling you can't pay money for.

2. Am I hungry?  Not really.  Yesterday I was truly hungry for the first time.  But I had been running at 90 miles an hour since I woke up for my walk.  At 2:30 I realized I was hungry.  Typically this would mean I would eat twice as much as I needed and then either need a nap or was physically 'done' with any meaningful activity. Instead I had a bowl of soup.  Momentarily thinking I should have more before remembering my stomach is now the size of a golf ball.  I waited about twenty minutes and realized I really didn't need anything else.  I was then able to continue working on the various projects around the house I had started earlier.  That too is a wonderful learning curve.

3.  What can I eat?  I have to have 60-70 grams of protein each day to ensure I don't lose too much muscle as I shed the weight.  I have figured out that I can get 50 grams each day just in a morning breakfast shake.  With a scoop of protein powder, a small container of Greek yogurt and a cup of skim milk, I get more than 2/3rds of my daily protein in just at breakfast.

As of today, I can start adding pureed food - broadening my menu from shakes and soup to include real food.  Lots of folks have suggested baby food, which I did purchase a bit of the other day - but couldn't bring myself to buy baby food meat.  Too gross to look at :)  Instead bought some pre-cooked teriyake  chicken breasts that I can blend with a bit of broth which I am sure will be more palatable than whatever bland yuck we feed our babies!  I can't wait to try this for dinner.

I expect by next week I can start adding things to my diet like scrambled eggs and cottage cheese.  Soft solids.  So far - I have have been fortunate that I have had no negative reactions to what I've eaten.  Sticking to the suggested plan, allowing the fear of pain to positively affect my choices.  And when you step on the scale each morning to see the reward of those choices...it makes it easy to stay on track.

Every day I am encouraged to think that soon...I will be half the woman I am today :)

So again, all is wonderful in my world today and I could not be happier I finally made the decision to take proactive action; allowing myself to live the life I am supposed to live.

Off to take a shower and head to church.  Can't wait to share more later!

Cam

Week 1

So this time last week I was laid out on a surgery table blissfully unconscious as doctors closed a loop between me and my worst addiction...food.  It's been an interesting roller coaster thus far.

From the wonderful high of prescribed narcotics to the miserable conclusion that sleeping with my feet on the ground, face on the bed and ass in the air was as close to comfortable as I was going to get...I still have no regrets - so ultimately that is the best news.

Thursday and Friday were the worst days thus far - and shouldn't be any huge surprise.  I felt a bit like a human construction level where any purely perpendicular or horizontal position caused a bubble of gas to land squarely between my breast bone, making me nauseated and cranky.  I now understand why infants need to be burped between feeding sessions and why they wail so if not properly jostled to relieve the pressure.  I would have given anything for someone to lay me across their lap and pat me on the back :)

Saturday I woke up after a fairly decent rest and downed a shot of hydrocodine and had a cup of coffee.  My God it was like the elixir of life!  I took a shower, went to the grocery store, cleaned up the kitchen, finished the laundry and cleaned out all the winter 'fat' clothes in my closet.  By 7:30 I was wondering how I was going to spend the next week of "recovery" now that I was feeling so well. 

Then the downturn.  I don't know if it was the first protein shake, not staying hydrated enough, pushing too hard, not leaving enough time lapse before consuming more liquids or the combination of all of it...but I was exhausted, hungry...and tired of jello.  Looked in my little book of "allowable" food and was overwhelmingly excited that I had overlooked 'cream of  (blank)' soup!  Granted, they said 98% fat free soup...but real f'ing soup!  Not another cup of watered down chicken broth!!  And incredibly, I actually had a can in the cupboard.  Must have been some old guilt driven purchase on many of my attempts to eat somewhat healthier :)  So in the microwave did that can go and like mother's milk...I was off to night night land.

So forget about pizza dreams - I had one hell of a doozey on Campbell's Cream of Celery!  I was on a crazy maze of underground tracks with my ex-boyfriend Joe in a labyrinth of man-made rubbery playscapes submerged beneath a subdivision in Los Angeles.  I kept trying to get out, frequently thinking we had succeeded as we dove through peoples houses and out what we thought was a front door only to be trapped again in the never ending loop.  I am sure Freud would have a field day with that...but I think it more likely I had watched one too many episodes of "Bodacious Backyards" on HGTV - where everyone seemed to have a water slide.

At 2:30am Monday, I woke up again feeling bloated and tired.  I decided I should do what most others are want to do on Memorial Day...and take it easy.  I forewent the drugs and concentrated on careful, calculated hydration.  To no particular avail.  Since I was up however, I did keep my one promise to myself and started my walking program. 

Several weeks ago, I had enlisted the aid of my 62 year old neighbor I call Mrs. Kravits.  She is a born co-dependent with a family in desperate need of a day on Jerry Springer...but God love her, I couldn't have the life I do without her.  She is nosy and overbearing, and opinionated (hmmm, that sounds familiar) but she graciously takes on the parts of my life I sometimes can't or won't do.  She brings my garbage cans in from the street, let's my dogs out to play, and happily helps me dust when I can't bring myself to do it alone. 

She was the person most averse to this surgery - but I think she has great skepticism of hospitals in general.  Most of her family who've gone in...don't come out.  But I finally told her she was either with me or keeping quiet.  I also told her she had a job.  Since she's a habitual walker anyway - she could show up on my front door at 6am and tell me to get my shoes on.  I then calmly explained that for at least 2 months I would come ungratefully to the door and offer her 999 reasons why I couldn't go, shouldn't go, or didn't want to go.  She then had permission to look me straight in the eye and tell me to shut my big fat pie-hole and get dressed.  That I was the one who wanted to have this fucking surgery and if I was so hell bent on doing it - I'd better learn to walk.  I told her to use that as a direct quote so she wouldn't feel bad using the "f" word.  I then told her that I would likely be churly and uncommunicative and very grateful if she would not attempt to engage in conversation until I had accepted this daily routine.  She seemed resigned to accept the task if not eager to embrace the guidelines.  So Monday morning, bright and early - we made the short, but progressive first step of walking from our little cul-de-sac to the end of our road and back again.  I promise progress...not perfection.  We will do this for a week, adding a 1/2 block every week until I can do a mile or two each morning.

But as the day wore on, so did my attitude.  Not unhappy, but frustrated.  By 9pm, I gave in and took another shot of liquid calm.  Comfort and bliss restored.  I watched more regular programming, spoke to family, and had my first real nights sleep in my own bed rather than the sofa.  At 6 am, as promised, Mrs. Kravits was at my door.  I did not offer protest - but grudgingly shuffled into my sport bra and sneakers before mutely walking out the door.

Rather than continue to fight against my recovery - I got home and took another shot of pain meds, poured myself a cup of coffee and got to work again comfortably.  I re-organized the kitchen a bit - making room for what I know will be a lifetime of protein shakes and vitamin supplements.  Only I could use this knowledge to rationalize a trip to the Container Store for practical and decorative storage tools for said products.  I hate the idea of medicine bottles lined up along my counter.  Might as well make them look like candy :)  If life gives you lemons as they say...might as well make lemonaide.

Hope this catches everyone up.  Thanks again for all the lovely calls and posts.  One step at a time...one step at a time.

Cam