You know that saying “God never gives you more than you can
handle?” Or the other great one “whatever
doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!”
I just want to put it out there that if anyone says either
to me, I will not be held responsible for my actions. Seriously, you’ve been warned.
So the cellulitis is getting worse, not better. I’m giving it until tomorrow before I call
the doctor. I’m not sure where you go
next when you’ve been prescribed an antibiotic that is supposed to make all the
little bad bacteria bits to explode like a car in an action movie. Let’s hope I don’t find out, but if I do, let’s
hope it doesn’t involve an iv.
I saw the new endocrinologist yesterday. Nice guy, totally on board with figuring out
what’s wrong with me, and has ordered further tests. He’s going to check my human growth hormone
level and my cortisol level, both of which I thought were just things the magic
weight loss pills shown on TV were supposed to cure. Ok, anyone else have the image of the fat
body with the arrows going around it as the torso shrinks? That
could be me!!!
The more disturbing test is going to be a thyroid biopsy of
a nodule on the front, center of my thyroid.
Disturbing because they are going
to stick a big needle into my body! He
did mention the C word, but didn’t really say he thought that could be it. He just didn’t really say that it isn’t
it. He asked twice if there was any
family history of thyroid cancer, to which I said no, but let’s face it, there
could be and I don’t know. I do have the
most ginormous extended family on both sides and don’t even know all my cousins,
let alone what various illnesses they’ve suffered. Whatever happens, it will be dealt with. If it’s nothing, it’s nothing. If it needs chopped out, chop it out (but
nicely so I have a pretty scar!)
I’m dealing with the thought of what it could be far better
than Michael. He wasn’t home when I
called so I just left a message saying “doc wants to do a biopsy.” I was more focused on my own needs at the
time so I didn’t really consider what he would think hearing this. Being some what pessimistic his response was
to have a complete breakdown with minor outbreaks for the rest of the day. He was struck both by how unfair it is that I’m
having all these problems and a fear that I could die. We both agreed that the car crash really
should have fulfilled any weird contract I’ve made with the powers that be, but
who really knows why things happen besides Him?
I think my biggest victory aside from keeping my sanity
fairly intact is that I haven’t binged.
Oh I’ve made some unwise choices (5 WW dulce de leche bars in a ROW –
booya!) but for the most part I’ve been good. Counted my points, stayed in my range, nothing
I’m not willing to step up and own. Used
a couple weekly points, but that’s what they’re for. I haven’t had any huge off the rail, fall off
the wagon, super binge like I would have in the past.
In the past I would have gone through every food that had
ever given me comfort and consumed large amounts of them until I was withering
in pain, but distracted from reality. The problem with that any more is that
the whole process doesn’t work for me. I
used to eat all that crap to prove that I am some horrible person who deserves
all these horrible things. When I had
the blood clot I comforted myself with a Little Caesar’s pepperoni pizza in my
car. How was that comfort? I felt sick, bloated and a like a failure and
that pain was so much easier to handle than the terrifying rebellion my body
was having against me. In my head I
would do this whole thing of proving I was a person who deserved bad
things.
See, you are a dumb
ass that just ate a whole freaking pizza, so that’s why you were lucky enough
to get a clot!
For some there is probably a lot of confusion on why I would
do this and think this. Things happen,
it’s just the way it is. But when you
have low self esteem and a healthy amount of preconditioned behavior it is
easier to deal with the familiar “problems” than new ones. I know how to handle being a weight loss
failure. I know how to deal with being
out of control with my eating. That
stuff is easy, routine, and in a horrible way, safe.
It’s been a year and a half since that diagnosis and a lot
has changed in me. I’ve been working
hard to change my habits and I have surrounded myself with positive people who
have built up my self esteem. I wouldn’t
tell my best friend she deserved an illness, so why would I tell myself that?
Whatever I do have (or don’t have) is unknown right now, but
it will be dealt with. No pity parties
about the fairness of life, but no stoic “this is the hand I’ve been dealt”
speech either. I have something wrong,
something is making me feel less than good, and I am being proactive in finding
what that is. That alone makes me proud. To see the ability in myself to stop hiding
and face the scariness of life is the largest signs of progress I have. Facing my fears is something I’ve never done
well. I’ve hid (and used excess weight to hide behind) and I’m done hiding.
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