A journey

It's so odd, after after so many decades on this earth, for one's body to finally decide to obey the dictate to lose weight. I started on weight loss meds a couple of years back, with barely any loss at all, though the weekly stick did have the welcome effect of stopping my inexorable march upward on the scale. I mean, I only had to look at calories and the scale would begin to climb. And the food noise was unremitting. I battled it every second of every day for my entire life, bare knuckling in it a constant effort not to scarf down carbs in response to my body's out of control insulin flood feening for more, more, more. The silencing of the food noise was a revelation, the ability to eat only when I was hungry and stop when I was full, like normal people, made me want to cry. I saw, for the first time, that I wasn't lacking in discipline and moral will when it came to food, as most people believe about fat people, but my body chemistry needed medical help, the way a diabetic person needs medical help, the way people with high blood pressure need medical intervention, the way many other physical conditions need the support of medicines to help balance a body that is unable to regulate itself. 

So when my doctor prescribed the medicine, I didn't resist, especially when she cited corollary benefits shown in studies, such as a twenty percent reduction in the incidence of coronary heart disease, which runs rampant in my family. There were the immediate benefits—weight gain arrested, food noise silenced, a newly healthy relationship with eating, and a sudden disinterest in rather unhealthy previous dietary staples such as bacon, which now tastes a bit wrong—but actually losing weight? I wasn't one of the quick responders, I barely lost five pounds. Then my insurance stopped covering the medicine and I had to stop taking it. My doctor subsequently went off into a concierge practice and I elected not to pay the hefty annual fee to go with her. Instead, I found a new doctor, who I like a lot. She's also much younger than I am so she's unlikely to retire on me, as many of my previous doctors have done. She helped me wrangle a way to get back on the meds in the spring of this year, and I've been on the weekly protocol since then. The food noise abated again, the weight I had regained, not that much, fell off, and then, as before, I stagnated for a good long while. I shrugged, deciding that not gaining and having a non-obsessive relationship with food, instead on one ruled by insulin tornadoes, was worth it. 

Meanwhile my doctor kept talking to me about stopping my longstanding bad habit of taking a Tylenol PM every night to help me sleep combined with three naproxen tablets for my constant body pain, plus various random doses of ibuprofen or naproxen during the day to knock back the joint pain and body aches. She kept telling me how bad it was for my organs, offered me alternatives to manage the pain. I didn't want any alternatives. I have an addictive personality, and I imagined myself getting hooked on powerful pain meds—that's what was in my head. She did mention at one point that the anti-inflammatory OTC meds I was taking were contraindicative of weight loss, but she didn't really dwell on that. It was all about damage to my liver and kidneys and stomach lining and such, but I had decided, after so many years of these bad practices, that I must be invulnerable to such effects. And I think of myself as an intelligent human!

Then I ran across an article that said the ingredient that induces sleep in Tylenol PM, which is the same ingredient in Benadryl (don't feel like looking up the pharmaceutical name), was linked to Alzheimers. That finally gave me pause. Hmm, I thought, the darn pills aren't even working. I still wake up at 3AM every night and can't get back to sleep till almost daylight, and I still feel groggy and unrested in the morning. And then I thought about the pain meds, and realized that they, too, put hardly a dent in my joint and body aches, so why was I swallowing them like candy? Overnight, I stopped taking them all, the Tylenol PM, the Advil, and the Aleve. My pain symptoms were no better or worse, but what I did notice is that fairly soon I was starting to sleep through the night more often and wake feeling far more refreshed, even on those nights when I'd awoken in the wee hours. And on those nights when I woke up, I usually managed to get back to sleep more easily, too.

But here's the real kicker. Right around that same time, I began to lose weight. Now, that was also around the time when, encouraged by my health conscious son, I began to prioritize getting 100 grams of high quality protein into my diet each day, and I believe that also made a huge difference. Whatever the reason, since July, I have lost thirty pounds, which has put me in territory not seen since my daughter was in preschool. But here's the other kicker, I look no different to myself, except older in the face and saggier in the body, and no one has really noticed I've lost weight. Even so, my clothes are definitely looser. 

According to the scale, this last month, the weight loss seems to be accelerating, as if my body has decided, okay, I see you seem to be serious about this journey we're on, so I'll get in gear. But may I be honest? It's actually freaking me out a bit. I'm not used to seeing the scale regularly going down, and I secretly wonder if maybe I'm sick and don't know it. But I had my annual check up earlier this month, and all my blood work numbers looked great. My body must be like, Jeez, woman, you sure are difficult to please!

And some other big news: I have finally scheduled my hip replacement surgery for the end of next month. I'm doing the thing, so this weight loss spree (assuming it continues) couldn't come at a better time. I've been terrified of this surgery for so many years, ever since my cousin died from a blood clot after having his hip replaced, but now I'm actually beginning to feel excited at the prospect of going through with the procedure myself. Who will I be on the other side of it? How great will it be not to walk into rooms self conscious of my penguin gait, and to feel myself planted strongly through both legs. My husband and son have both taken time off from work for that first week after my surgery to help me get back in the groove. My son says he's going to move in with us for the week. He studied exercise science and sports psychology in college, and now my husband jokes, "Our tuition dollars are finally paying off."

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I've been gone for a while. The time was busy and eventful, too much to recap. Here is a post I started on November 15, but never finished, possibly because little Harper was here in New York with us from November 13 through December 2, and her parents were here for all but four days of that stretch as well. The time together was chaotic and exhausting and wonderful, for all of us I'd wager. Can't wait till they're back.

I’m starting therapy in December. I set my first session for then, after all the activity of the current month, with Thanksgiving and pie baking and nursery school visits for the little one. The Dallas crew is here, and little Harper is at this moment attending a playdate "interview" at a school her parents have applied to for her to attend starting next fall when they move back to New York. That’s right, our Texas outpost is moving back, and arrangements are in full swing. Harper’s parents had their interview yesterday, because getting your kid into a so-called good school in New York City is quite a dance, I remember it well. 

Here are some snaps from Thanksgiving week that tell a bit more of the story.

On Thanksgiving day, my nieces made fancy charcuterie boards that we noshed on before the main meal. This spread is becoming a new tradition, the contribution of the young 'uns while our family prepares the Thanksgiving dishes. Our daughter baked her salted caramel apple pies (seen boxed on the table) and our son made his Grandma's sweet potato casserole with seared marshmallow topping. I made my usual corn and cheese souffle and my man did the rest, turkey and stuffing, honey ham, four cheese mac and cheese, jalapeno cornbread, and sweet plantain. Our son in law contributed collard greens and this year the nieces also made a Ceasar salad, newly concerned that there would be nothing else raw and green. One cousin arrived with tender cooked lamb and gravy, and various desserts and libations were also brought by guests. Most of the attendees, however, were sleeping over with us, nine souls under our roof for the week, with four more arriving early each morning to continue the party. Next year the Dallas crew will be in their own home in Brooklyn. I wonder if they will still decamp to our apartment for the long weekend as my other nieces do? I have a feeling they, like my son and daughter and their loves, will join the daily commuting crew, especially if my Orlando and Trinidad cousins come next year, as they have promised to, as they would probably stay here. We missed them this year, we thought we would be a skeleton crew, but it really didn't seem that way. Thanksgiving felt as robust as ever.