I broke my foot at my wedding.
As best as I can tell, that's when it all began. 3 years and 8 months ago, my lesson in wellness (for lack of anything better to call it) started. And it wasn't a lesson I began by choice.
So, I wish there was an awesome story to go along with my broken foot, but there isn't really. There wasn't some death-defying activity involved, just a fabulous night spent dancing with my closest family and friends. While wearing a very heavy wedding dress. (I must pause to say how awesome I still think my dress was. Lace and beading all over, and tons of tulle and a HUGE train.) Anyways, I danced every single dance at my wedding... the polkas, the chicken dance, the cupid shuffle, the swing ones, the slow ones, the fast ones. Everything. And doing that, even though I was wearing black & white peddle pusher-like dancing shoes, in my heavy dress was too much for that tiny bone in my (rather small) foot.
I didn't even notice anything until the next day when we were getting ready to go to the brunch. I couldn't put weight on my left foot. I thought then (which now seems ridiculous) that it must have just been a tight tendon or something, so I passed on my cute heels and opted for flip flops, but was still hobbling around all day. (What makes this part of the story even "better" is that we honeymooned in the Smokey Mountains, and since I thought it was just a tight tendon, I thought taking hikes--of like 8 miles--would do me some good. I couldn't understand why it didn't make it hurt less, but rather more. <total forehead slapping moment 3 years later>)
When two months later I was still unable to go running because of foot pain, I decided to go to my Dr. She immediately referred me to a specialist, they took an x-ray, and came in with a boot. It was broken. I was to wear the boot for 6-8 weeks. Ugh. But that's not even the worst part! The worst part is that because I had been so delinquent in my going to the doctor, my hiking, and all the repeated attempts at running, I had caused permanent damage to my foot. I would likely never be able to wear heels as comfortably as before, and most likely, the doctor said, my running days were over. (I should clarify that I was never really 'a runner', but a 'half jog/half run/half walker.")
And then it was winter.
And then we were both (suddenly) unemployed.
And then my husband was out of town 4 days of 7, and I spent most evenings alone.
And then it was winter.
And then we moved to TX, and I cried out of sadness multiple times each day.
And then I was unemployed for 4 months.
And then my appendages started falling asleep.
You know, when you lose feeling and then the 'pins and needles' start? Well, I'd wake up most every night, in the middle of the night, with something having fallen asleep. It was painful and annoying. And, though this wasn't the first of odd things happening, it was definitely the most noticeable.
And then I gave up all junk food for Lent. And GAINED weight. It was at this point, because we finally had medical insurance again, that I went to the doctor. After loads of testing, they finally figured out there was something up with my thyroid. Among other things, most of which have been previously documented, deal also the c-word, but in other parts of my body, but aren't specifically related to this story, my thyroid was enlarged and had a 'nodule.' After several tests, they determined it wasn't cancer, but that I needed to be on medication to reduce its size and hopefully lose the nodule.
After 11 months of working with one particular doctor (whose office I left crying every time because of her and her staff's rudeness), I switched to a new one. (Seth was quite convinced I needed a new one, the tears being only half the problems I'd had with them. <another forehead slapping moment all these years later> I should have switched MUCH sooner.) I continued to gain weight the entire 11 months, because though I was trying to live a healthy, active life, if your metabolism isn't working, you have a huge uphill battle to fight, and I wasn't able to overcome that.
During this time, I had met with about 5 different specialists (for all the variety of things going on with me), given up all added hormones to my body, done loads of food allergy testing, done elimination diets for the better part of 4 months, and met with my naturopath every couple weeks to monitor progress. And yet, still, the pounds kept coming, and I kept having these weird things (appendages falling asleep, etc) happening.
After meeting for the first time with my new doctor, she switched my medicine around, was convinced that she could get things corrected fairly quickly, and stated she didn't understand why my previous doctor had been unable to. Neither did I. I went back three months later for my physical and to check how my thyroid was responding, hopeful that it would be under control, or nearly under control, and that I would then be able to start losing the weight I'd gained. And that's when I got the news.
I was pregnant. Pregnancy for me meant being sea sick 24/7. The only thing that made me feel remotely human was lying horizontal with my eyes closed. I couldn't bend over, I couldn't walk, I couldn't watch tv, and I certainly couldn't read (which, for this avid reader was life-altering. Plus, the thing I normally do when I have to just lay around, I couldn't do. I didn't know myself.) I did nothing but lie flat for the better part of 9 months, just wishing the queasiness would subside. I didn't eat very much (who wants to eat when you feel sea sick?), but I was also extremely inactive. For the first time in years, I actually lost weight. That didn't last long though, because towards the end of the third trimester I started to feel less sea sick, and started eating again, but the heartburn and hugeness caused me to continue to be inactive. Overall, I gained a reasonable, relatively small amount of weight while pregnant. (But that's not much consolation to me as I'd already been adding pounds for years, and any more just felt like a death sentence.)
But, since giving birth (7 months ago!), I've had the most-varied, most worst-luck health-wise. I have had: a sinus infection (actually had it when Austin was born, and it took several weeks to go away), two root canals, a crown, an allergic reaction to penicillin (which was new to me, I'd been pumped with it while in labor, so this reaction, on Christmas, was a total shocker and a bummer), severe food poisoning, an ear infection, an unexplainable rash covering both arms, several bouts of vertigo, a bum hip, another sinus infection, stomach flu, two rounds of different types of allergy testing, and most recently have sprained my ankle. I honestly don't think I have had a string of 7 days where I've felt healthy/been uninjured more than twice in the last 7 months. Seriously.
And so, the pounds have continued to add on. I haven't worn my wedding ring for over a year and half. The thought disgusts me. And now, I'm looking at the calendar... I'm looking at the fact that I'm going home in 3 weeks for the first time since August of 2008 (for Heather's wedding), and I'll be approximately 50 pounds heavier. I guess part of the reason I'm even writing this note is to tell everyone back home in advance so I don't have to see the shock on their faces when I see them for the first time. I'm sure that people who see me on a regular basis (i.e. TX folk) have noticed too, but that's been more gradual, and thankfully, no one has said anything.
But the biggest reason I'm writing this is to ask for support, love, encouragement, and most of all, prayer. I just want to be healthy. I want to not be sick, not be injured, and not feel dizzy (vertigo) or queasy so that I can again be the healthy, active person I am. Inside. Underneath all this extra weight. I want to go on walks with my family and enjoy it. I want to not be hot all the time. I want to get on the floor and play with my son and not struggle to get back up again. It's embarrassing. Embarrassing and gross. I hate what the mirror shows me. And I hate how this weight has affected what's on the inside as well. I'm not the same person I used to be. My personality has been affected. That's the worst.
So, back-home folks... consider yourself warned.
So, people who love me... pray. I'm ready for this wellness lesson to be over. Please ask God to finish the lesson, give me assistance in regaining health (and fitting into my clothes and ring again), and knowledge about why I've gone through this. What it's all been for, I have no idea. But, whatever it is, I'm ready to take the final and move on. Enough is enough.
As best as I can tell, that's when it all began. 3 years and 8 months ago, my lesson in wellness (for lack of anything better to call it) started. And it wasn't a lesson I began by choice.
So, I wish there was an awesome story to go along with my broken foot, but there isn't really. There wasn't some death-defying activity involved, just a fabulous night spent dancing with my closest family and friends. While wearing a very heavy wedding dress. (I must pause to say how awesome I still think my dress was. Lace and beading all over, and tons of tulle and a HUGE train.) Anyways, I danced every single dance at my wedding... the polkas, the chicken dance, the cupid shuffle, the swing ones, the slow ones, the fast ones. Everything. And doing that, even though I was wearing black & white peddle pusher-like dancing shoes, in my heavy dress was too much for that tiny bone in my (rather small) foot.
I didn't even notice anything until the next day when we were getting ready to go to the brunch. I couldn't put weight on my left foot. I thought then (which now seems ridiculous) that it must have just been a tight tendon or something, so I passed on my cute heels and opted for flip flops, but was still hobbling around all day. (What makes this part of the story even "better" is that we honeymooned in the Smokey Mountains, and since I thought it was just a tight tendon, I thought taking hikes--of like 8 miles--would do me some good. I couldn't understand why it didn't make it hurt less, but rather more. <total forehead slapping moment 3 years later>)
When two months later I was still unable to go running because of foot pain, I decided to go to my Dr. She immediately referred me to a specialist, they took an x-ray, and came in with a boot. It was broken. I was to wear the boot for 6-8 weeks. Ugh. But that's not even the worst part! The worst part is that because I had been so delinquent in my going to the doctor, my hiking, and all the repeated attempts at running, I had caused permanent damage to my foot. I would likely never be able to wear heels as comfortably as before, and most likely, the doctor said, my running days were over. (I should clarify that I was never really 'a runner', but a 'half jog/half run/half walker.")
And then it was winter.
And then we were both (suddenly) unemployed.
And then my husband was out of town 4 days of 7, and I spent most evenings alone.
And then it was winter.
And then we moved to TX, and I cried out of sadness multiple times each day.
And then I was unemployed for 4 months.
And then my appendages started falling asleep.
You know, when you lose feeling and then the 'pins and needles' start? Well, I'd wake up most every night, in the middle of the night, with something having fallen asleep. It was painful and annoying. And, though this wasn't the first of odd things happening, it was definitely the most noticeable.
And then I gave up all junk food for Lent. And GAINED weight. It was at this point, because we finally had medical insurance again, that I went to the doctor. After loads of testing, they finally figured out there was something up with my thyroid. Among other things, most of which have been previously documented, deal also the c-word, but in other parts of my body, but aren't specifically related to this story, my thyroid was enlarged and had a 'nodule.' After several tests, they determined it wasn't cancer, but that I needed to be on medication to reduce its size and hopefully lose the nodule.
After 11 months of working with one particular doctor (whose office I left crying every time because of her and her staff's rudeness), I switched to a new one. (Seth was quite convinced I needed a new one, the tears being only half the problems I'd had with them. <another forehead slapping moment all these years later> I should have switched MUCH sooner.) I continued to gain weight the entire 11 months, because though I was trying to live a healthy, active life, if your metabolism isn't working, you have a huge uphill battle to fight, and I wasn't able to overcome that.
During this time, I had met with about 5 different specialists (for all the variety of things going on with me), given up all added hormones to my body, done loads of food allergy testing, done elimination diets for the better part of 4 months, and met with my naturopath every couple weeks to monitor progress. And yet, still, the pounds kept coming, and I kept having these weird things (appendages falling asleep, etc) happening.
After meeting for the first time with my new doctor, she switched my medicine around, was convinced that she could get things corrected fairly quickly, and stated she didn't understand why my previous doctor had been unable to. Neither did I. I went back three months later for my physical and to check how my thyroid was responding, hopeful that it would be under control, or nearly under control, and that I would then be able to start losing the weight I'd gained. And that's when I got the news.
I was pregnant. Pregnancy for me meant being sea sick 24/7. The only thing that made me feel remotely human was lying horizontal with my eyes closed. I couldn't bend over, I couldn't walk, I couldn't watch tv, and I certainly couldn't read (which, for this avid reader was life-altering. Plus, the thing I normally do when I have to just lay around, I couldn't do. I didn't know myself.) I did nothing but lie flat for the better part of 9 months, just wishing the queasiness would subside. I didn't eat very much (who wants to eat when you feel sea sick?), but I was also extremely inactive. For the first time in years, I actually lost weight. That didn't last long though, because towards the end of the third trimester I started to feel less sea sick, and started eating again, but the heartburn and hugeness caused me to continue to be inactive. Overall, I gained a reasonable, relatively small amount of weight while pregnant. (But that's not much consolation to me as I'd already been adding pounds for years, and any more just felt like a death sentence.)
But, since giving birth (7 months ago!), I've had the most-varied, most worst-luck health-wise. I have had: a sinus infection (actually had it when Austin was born, and it took several weeks to go away), two root canals, a crown, an allergic reaction to penicillin (which was new to me, I'd been pumped with it while in labor, so this reaction, on Christmas, was a total shocker and a bummer), severe food poisoning, an ear infection, an unexplainable rash covering both arms, several bouts of vertigo, a bum hip, another sinus infection, stomach flu, two rounds of different types of allergy testing, and most recently have sprained my ankle. I honestly don't think I have had a string of 7 days where I've felt healthy/been uninjured more than twice in the last 7 months. Seriously.
And so, the pounds have continued to add on. I haven't worn my wedding ring for over a year and half. The thought disgusts me. And now, I'm looking at the calendar... I'm looking at the fact that I'm going home in 3 weeks for the first time since August of 2008 (for Heather's wedding), and I'll be approximately 50 pounds heavier. I guess part of the reason I'm even writing this note is to tell everyone back home in advance so I don't have to see the shock on their faces when I see them for the first time. I'm sure that people who see me on a regular basis (i.e. TX folk) have noticed too, but that's been more gradual, and thankfully, no one has said anything.
But the biggest reason I'm writing this is to ask for support, love, encouragement, and most of all, prayer. I just want to be healthy. I want to not be sick, not be injured, and not feel dizzy (vertigo) or queasy so that I can again be the healthy, active person I am. Inside. Underneath all this extra weight. I want to go on walks with my family and enjoy it. I want to not be hot all the time. I want to get on the floor and play with my son and not struggle to get back up again. It's embarrassing. Embarrassing and gross. I hate what the mirror shows me. And I hate how this weight has affected what's on the inside as well. I'm not the same person I used to be. My personality has been affected. That's the worst.
So, back-home folks... consider yourself warned.
So, people who love me... pray. I'm ready for this wellness lesson to be over. Please ask God to finish the lesson, give me assistance in regaining health (and fitting into my clothes and ring again), and knowledge about why I've gone through this. What it's all been for, I have no idea. But, whatever it is, I'm ready to take the final and move on. Enough is enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment