Thursday 2-16-12
BPD Day, the 6th of June...
Since my last post, there has been much craziness, but also much good news. I'll start with the good news and then recount the craziness. My insurance company sent me a letter almost 3 weeks ago to inform me that I have been approved for surgery! Yippee! A few days after that, Dr. Williams's office called to say that they had received the same letter and could schedule me as soon as I paid the program fee. All that was left was waiting for our income tax refund to hit the bank, and that happened this past weekend. So, yesterday I called the doctor's office, paid my fee and scheduled my surgery.
I will ever be able to explain how wonderfully supportive and understanding The Hubs has been about all of this, up to and including agreeing to spend our entire tax refund (and then some) to fund my surgery expenses not covered by insurance. I know he sees this as an investment in our future, as I do. And I know he wants me to be happy, healthy, to feel good and have energy so I can really enjoy my life and our time together. I am grateful beyond words for this man who is so generous and loving.
The craziness was another illness, worse than the one at Christmas. I developed a scorchingly sore throat and started feeling sick several days after my first Sunday night on call at the hospital. I had forgotten the lavalike pain that a serious sore throat could inflict. It felt like I had eaten gravel and sandpaper, washing them down with battery acid. My earliest chance to seek treatment was a visit the following Sunday morning to a local clinic, where I was examined, diagnosed with strep throat and given a prescription for a strong (1000 mg twice daily) regimen of amoxicillin. I did not report to the hospital for my scheduled clinical hours that day, instead going home, starting the medicine, drinking lots of liquids and sleeping as much as I wanted to. I did all the things a sick person is supposed to including going to the doctor and getting medicine.
Instead of improving, I just kept getting sicker. My tonsils abscessed, my sinuses bled, I fevered and sweated and...freaked out. I now refer to this bout as The Strep of Death. I ended up going to see my regular doctor that Wednesday. He asked me about my symptoms, checked ears and nose, and looked in my throat and said, "Oh, dear Lord!" That's never good. I had told him he needed to glove up before he examined me. He changed me from amoxicillin to levofloxacin and put me on house arrest for the rest of the week until the following Monday. Go home, go directly home, do not pass go, do not collect $200. A week's vacation went up in flames. A week of clinical hours for CPE vanished. But the change of medicine, and especially the restriction, proved to be exactly what I needed. I have to admit I'm still not completely 100% back to full Diva strength, but knock wood and Lord willing, I'm on my way.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Sags, Bags and The Humility Pimple
Saturday 1-28-12
Why even skinny people can sometimes look bad...
I mentioned in an earlier post that I was accepted to an extended unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at my city's teaching hospital. Doing this class, and the clinical hours and on-call requirements that it entails, have been glorious, exhausting, intense and humbling. And I am just getting my feet wet, really.
Last Sunday night I was on-call at the hospital. My job schedule limits the way I have to schedule my on-call nights, which I can only do on Sunday night going into Monday morning. Normally on Sunday I have clinical hours starting at 1 pm, and the on-call period starts at 4:30 pm and lasts until 8:30 the following morning. The chaplain on call the night before conducts the morning chapel service and then presents the morning report. Because of the way my clinical hours are set up, when I am on-call, I will actually be at the hospital from 1 pm on Sunday afternoon until my seminar is over at 5 pm on Monday afternoon. Then there is music practice after that. So now my Marathon Mondays are much more marathon-ish. And yes, it was exhausting, but a wonderful experience. I will be doing this twice a month until the unit is over in late May.
I slept for about one hour during my time at the hospital because we had several traumas come in during the night and my pager kept going off. The morning after my night on call, I was able to get a quick shower without being paged, thank God. But looking at myself in the mirror as I attempted to put on my makeup and start another day, I could see every minute of the night before showing up on my face and my body.
I had walked my feet off rounding the hospital and hurrying to the trauma bay numerous times overnight, as well as to various patient rooms for visits when called, so my posture was definitely sagging. Although I know that the exercise is good for me, there had been an overabundance of activity that night. I had rubbed a blister on one of my heels and felt like I had shin splints. And the bags under my eyes were the size of steamer trunks. Sometimes even the most skillful application of concealer just won't cover what I want covered, and the bags were definitely making their presence known in a most visible way.
Then I noticed it, as big as life and twice as ugly, staring smugly at me from the side of my chin like a school bully who has just made me run squawling to my Mama. The Humility Pimple. You know the one...the one that shows up at the most inopportune moments. Like prom. Or the reunion you want to look so polished and put-together for. Or the wedding/funeral/family holiday/first date that you've anticipated, planned and prepared for. It's The Zit that seems to laugh at you and say, "Oh, how I have missed you! I know you must be thrilled to see me, too. So glad I could make it for your big event! Wouldn't want to feel too good about ourselves, now would we?"
Yeah...not so much.
I am realizing more all the time that losing weight is only going to address some of my self-image issues. There will still be things that, frankly, will just make me look crappy sometimes...things like exhaustion, hormones, stress and The Humility Pimple. Even skinny people probably struggle with something, at some point or other, regarding their appearances. And once I am thinner and healthier, there will still be things I can't control about what I see in the mirror. My hope in this process is that I will be able to appreciate my improved health and energy, and to be grateful for feeling better, even (or especially) on days when I have sags, bags, or even The Humility Pimple.
Why even skinny people can sometimes look bad...
I mentioned in an earlier post that I was accepted to an extended unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at my city's teaching hospital. Doing this class, and the clinical hours and on-call requirements that it entails, have been glorious, exhausting, intense and humbling. And I am just getting my feet wet, really.
Last Sunday night I was on-call at the hospital. My job schedule limits the way I have to schedule my on-call nights, which I can only do on Sunday night going into Monday morning. Normally on Sunday I have clinical hours starting at 1 pm, and the on-call period starts at 4:30 pm and lasts until 8:30 the following morning. The chaplain on call the night before conducts the morning chapel service and then presents the morning report. Because of the way my clinical hours are set up, when I am on-call, I will actually be at the hospital from 1 pm on Sunday afternoon until my seminar is over at 5 pm on Monday afternoon. Then there is music practice after that. So now my Marathon Mondays are much more marathon-ish. And yes, it was exhausting, but a wonderful experience. I will be doing this twice a month until the unit is over in late May.
I slept for about one hour during my time at the hospital because we had several traumas come in during the night and my pager kept going off. The morning after my night on call, I was able to get a quick shower without being paged, thank God. But looking at myself in the mirror as I attempted to put on my makeup and start another day, I could see every minute of the night before showing up on my face and my body.
I had walked my feet off rounding the hospital and hurrying to the trauma bay numerous times overnight, as well as to various patient rooms for visits when called, so my posture was definitely sagging. Although I know that the exercise is good for me, there had been an overabundance of activity that night. I had rubbed a blister on one of my heels and felt like I had shin splints. And the bags under my eyes were the size of steamer trunks. Sometimes even the most skillful application of concealer just won't cover what I want covered, and the bags were definitely making their presence known in a most visible way.
Then I noticed it, as big as life and twice as ugly, staring smugly at me from the side of my chin like a school bully who has just made me run squawling to my Mama. The Humility Pimple. You know the one...the one that shows up at the most inopportune moments. Like prom. Or the reunion you want to look so polished and put-together for. Or the wedding/funeral/family holiday/first date that you've anticipated, planned and prepared for. It's The Zit that seems to laugh at you and say, "Oh, how I have missed you! I know you must be thrilled to see me, too. So glad I could make it for your big event! Wouldn't want to feel too good about ourselves, now would we?"
Yeah...not so much.
I am realizing more all the time that losing weight is only going to address some of my self-image issues. There will still be things that, frankly, will just make me look crappy sometimes...things like exhaustion, hormones, stress and The Humility Pimple. Even skinny people probably struggle with something, at some point or other, regarding their appearances. And once I am thinner and healthier, there will still be things I can't control about what I see in the mirror. My hope in this process is that I will be able to appreciate my improved health and energy, and to be grateful for feeling better, even (or especially) on days when I have sags, bags, or even The Humility Pimple.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Drumroll, Please!
Thursday 1-12-12
I have lost 25 pounds...
It seems like I should be more excited about this milestone, but I still have so much more weight to lose, it just feels like a drop in the bucket. It's important to remember that even small steps in the right direction will get me to where I need to be. The bigger, more rapid losses are coming after surgery.
I went to get my hair cut and permed this past Tuesday and I had not seen my hairstylist since my last haircut, which was the same day as my first visit with my surgeon. She said that she could tell a difference in how my face and neck look, which is nice of her to say whether it's true or not! She is wonderfully supportive of my efforts and said she looks forward to "going on this journey" with me, which I thought was really sweet. A good hair person is very much like a therapist in that he/she is usually a very good listener.
I ordered a Tanita scale to use, similar to the one at the surgeon's office, but a consumer model. I hope to keep more accurate records using this tool...and I find it ironic that, for the first time in my life, I am actually kind of excited about having a new scale. Maybe I really am changing in this process!
The progress with the CPAP feels slow. It isn't uncomfortable, exactly, but I am always very aware of it, if that makes any sense. I am still learning how to adjust the mask and make it as unobtrusive as possible...but the miracle of instantly better sleep quality has eluded me thus far. I've done some research and all the information suggests that it takes a little time to actually feel that sleep is improved. I am definitely ready to start reaping the rewards of my CPAP use, because I seem to be feeling especially tired right now. Maybe all the craziness of the holidays and how sick I was still has me running at a bit of an energy deficit. I may be a wild woman tonight and sleep without the machine.
Look at me, living on the edge!
I have lost 25 pounds...
It seems like I should be more excited about this milestone, but I still have so much more weight to lose, it just feels like a drop in the bucket. It's important to remember that even small steps in the right direction will get me to where I need to be. The bigger, more rapid losses are coming after surgery.
I went to get my hair cut and permed this past Tuesday and I had not seen my hairstylist since my last haircut, which was the same day as my first visit with my surgeon. She said that she could tell a difference in how my face and neck look, which is nice of her to say whether it's true or not! She is wonderfully supportive of my efforts and said she looks forward to "going on this journey" with me, which I thought was really sweet. A good hair person is very much like a therapist in that he/she is usually a very good listener.
I ordered a Tanita scale to use, similar to the one at the surgeon's office, but a consumer model. I hope to keep more accurate records using this tool...and I find it ironic that, for the first time in my life, I am actually kind of excited about having a new scale. Maybe I really am changing in this process!
The progress with the CPAP feels slow. It isn't uncomfortable, exactly, but I am always very aware of it, if that makes any sense. I am still learning how to adjust the mask and make it as unobtrusive as possible...but the miracle of instantly better sleep quality has eluded me thus far. I've done some research and all the information suggests that it takes a little time to actually feel that sleep is improved. I am definitely ready to start reaping the rewards of my CPAP use, because I seem to be feeling especially tired right now. Maybe all the craziness of the holidays and how sick I was still has me running at a bit of an energy deficit. I may be a wild woman tonight and sleep without the machine.
Look at me, living on the edge!
Friday, January 6, 2012
CPAP and The Big Girl Britches
Friday 1-6-12
Sounds like a good name for a bluegrass band...
My CPAP machine (continuous positive airway pressure) for sleep apnea was delivered and I finally got it set up and began using it. My particular case of sleep apnea does not require me to wear a full mask for sleeping, just a small apparatus that looks a little bit like a snorkel, with what are referred to in the sleep apnea business as "nose pillows". So my headgear is not as uncomfortable as I had imagined it would be, although I will admit that the sensation of air being gently forced into my nostrils is a little strange and will take some getting used to. Like undertaking anything else new, adjusting to the CPAP will take a little time.
The Big Girl Britches also arrived this week, what I hope will be the last ones I ever have to purchase. For my CPE class and general hospital dress code, jeans are not allowed and I needed another pair of non-denim pants to wear on CPE days. I went to one of my favorite sources for plus-size clothing and ordered a pair of the pants I love in black, in the same ginormous size I've been wearing for years. So I waited a day or two before trying them on, and last night when I finally did try them on, I just pulled them on over my flannel pajama pants. It surprised me that, even with flannel pants on under them, they fit with room to spare! I haven't lost enough weight yet for people to really begin noticing (and that's not the reason I'm doing this anyway) but feeling the difference in fit of the new Big Girl Britches was satisfying.
There are other Big Girl Britches that I need to put on, and I am struggling with it. At some point I have to tell my Dad that I am having surgery, and I just don't look forward to it at all. I considered not telling him about it, but then I reconsidered because, A) I would want to know if he were having surgery, and B) God forbid something should go wrong and my Hubs have to explain, "Well, she went in for weight loss surgery and didn't plan on ending up dead, maimed, comatose, etc." It is my responsibility to tell him myself. I just need to pick my moment and state the fact that, "I am having weight loss surgery on such-and-such date and thought that you might want to know." He may be completely supportive of the idea, but I am past caring whether he is or isn't. I just know that I dread telling him.
Our history regarding my size holds unpleasant associations for me, memories of his well-meaning sermons on my health and the humiliation I felt as a result of them. He has always asserted that he only has my best interests at heart and is only concerned for my health...and I know that he is concerned about my physical health. My emotional and psychological well-being, unfortunately, have never mattered much to him as far as I can tell.
Without going into a lot of detail, I will simply state once more that my Dad is a Fatophobe. He is insensitive to the feelings of plus-sized people, seeing us as pathetic sad sacks whose size is a symptom of a flawed character. We are not presentable. We could change ourselves if we just had some self-discipline. He is disrespectful of fat folk the way some people are disrespectful of someone of a different race or religion. I grew up hearing him refer to a couple of large neighborhood people as "Fat (female name)" or "Fat (male name)". Their fatness was how he defined them. And my fatness is how he has defined me.
Chances are decent that, once I am no longer as visibly fat, he will find some other fault with which to define me. I have to prepare myself for that possibility. Accepters accept, and judgers judge. I also have to deal with the fact that, just as he has always judged me, I judge him too. In that way I am very much my father's daughter.
Sounds like a good name for a bluegrass band...
My CPAP machine (continuous positive airway pressure) for sleep apnea was delivered and I finally got it set up and began using it. My particular case of sleep apnea does not require me to wear a full mask for sleeping, just a small apparatus that looks a little bit like a snorkel, with what are referred to in the sleep apnea business as "nose pillows". So my headgear is not as uncomfortable as I had imagined it would be, although I will admit that the sensation of air being gently forced into my nostrils is a little strange and will take some getting used to. Like undertaking anything else new, adjusting to the CPAP will take a little time.
The Big Girl Britches also arrived this week, what I hope will be the last ones I ever have to purchase. For my CPE class and general hospital dress code, jeans are not allowed and I needed another pair of non-denim pants to wear on CPE days. I went to one of my favorite sources for plus-size clothing and ordered a pair of the pants I love in black, in the same ginormous size I've been wearing for years. So I waited a day or two before trying them on, and last night when I finally did try them on, I just pulled them on over my flannel pajama pants. It surprised me that, even with flannel pants on under them, they fit with room to spare! I haven't lost enough weight yet for people to really begin noticing (and that's not the reason I'm doing this anyway) but feeling the difference in fit of the new Big Girl Britches was satisfying.
There are other Big Girl Britches that I need to put on, and I am struggling with it. At some point I have to tell my Dad that I am having surgery, and I just don't look forward to it at all. I considered not telling him about it, but then I reconsidered because, A) I would want to know if he were having surgery, and B) God forbid something should go wrong and my Hubs have to explain, "Well, she went in for weight loss surgery and didn't plan on ending up dead, maimed, comatose, etc." It is my responsibility to tell him myself. I just need to pick my moment and state the fact that, "I am having weight loss surgery on such-and-such date and thought that you might want to know." He may be completely supportive of the idea, but I am past caring whether he is or isn't. I just know that I dread telling him.
Our history regarding my size holds unpleasant associations for me, memories of his well-meaning sermons on my health and the humiliation I felt as a result of them. He has always asserted that he only has my best interests at heart and is only concerned for my health...and I know that he is concerned about my physical health. My emotional and psychological well-being, unfortunately, have never mattered much to him as far as I can tell.
Without going into a lot of detail, I will simply state once more that my Dad is a Fatophobe. He is insensitive to the feelings of plus-sized people, seeing us as pathetic sad sacks whose size is a symptom of a flawed character. We are not presentable. We could change ourselves if we just had some self-discipline. He is disrespectful of fat folk the way some people are disrespectful of someone of a different race or religion. I grew up hearing him refer to a couple of large neighborhood people as "Fat (female name)" or "Fat (male name)". Their fatness was how he defined them. And my fatness is how he has defined me.
Chances are decent that, once I am no longer as visibly fat, he will find some other fault with which to define me. I have to prepare myself for that possibility. Accepters accept, and judgers judge. I also have to deal with the fact that, just as he has always judged me, I judge him too. In that way I am very much my father's daughter.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
My New Year's Revolution
Sunday 1-1-12
Yes, that's Revolution, with a "V"
This year I am changing my life, Lord willing and with His help! The last couple of months of last year were a good start, and now that the holidays are over, I am more than ready to get back on the wagon and move forward toward my goals of renewed health, fitness and a greater commitment to God and searching out His purposes for the remaining years of my life. And I want to make positive contributions to the lives of those around me as well.
A longtime friend of mine had his own weight loss surgery this past week. This is a person who has spent his life and career investing in other people. Now he has decided it is time to reclaim his own health and well-being. It is no coincidence that all of these things have converged in the way that they have. God has worked out the timing so that each of us will have a friend in the process for support and encouragement, and the fact that his surgery preceded mine will allow me to see how his recovery goes and to learn, from someone I know and trust, what the pitfalls are and how to avoid them. What I hope to be able to offer to him is a safe place to ask questions, to voice frustrations, and an unconditional, supportive, ongoing friendship that will not be altered by his rapidly-changing appearance.
As I undertake my revolution, I have to prepare myself for a possible revolution in the world around me as I change. Already, unfortunately, I have been surprised that another longtime friend had a borderline-snarky response when I revealed my plans to pursue weight loss surgery. I've been really selective about who to reveal my intentions to, choosing people from whom I believed I could expect unconditional support. And yet, this friend surprised me in a less-than-totally-supportive way. That is fine. I believe the response just came from a lack of education on the subject. If my friend remains uneducated about weight loss surgery and why a person would eventually resort to it, that will be a matter of choice.
When I experienced my last substantial weight loss, years ago, people's changing responses to me, or more accurately, to my appearance, were interesting, surprising, humorous and frustrating in some cases. It always amused and annoyed me that, as I shrank, suddenly I seemed to become more visible. It made no sense to me, and for a longtime fat person, it really did a number on me at the time. I am much older now and in a much more stable place in my life, so, while I know there will be issues related to my changing looks, I don't expect to have the complete upheaval I experienced before. And if complete upheaval does rear its ugly head this time, I have tools and resources to deal with it that I lacked the last time. My groupmates in CPE will be a valuable source of insight in the months prior to surgery, as will my husband, the weight loss support group, and the other confidants I have chosen for myself. And if it begins to feel overwhelming I now know that counseling is an option, something I did not avail myself of the last time I lost a lot of weight. Accepting help, whatever kind I need, hurts my pride...but that kind of pride has not done much to contribute to my well-being over the years.
The Incredible Shrinking Diva's New Year's Revolution has begun! My prayer is that the coming year will bring drastic improvements in my physical, spiritual, emotional and mental health. The work I can do, I am willing to commit myself to doing. The work that only God can do, I am committed to trusting Him for. I want my life to be His work of art, pleasing to my Maker and a blessing to the people He places in my path.
Yes, that's Revolution, with a "V"
This year I am changing my life, Lord willing and with His help! The last couple of months of last year were a good start, and now that the holidays are over, I am more than ready to get back on the wagon and move forward toward my goals of renewed health, fitness and a greater commitment to God and searching out His purposes for the remaining years of my life. And I want to make positive contributions to the lives of those around me as well.
A longtime friend of mine had his own weight loss surgery this past week. This is a person who has spent his life and career investing in other people. Now he has decided it is time to reclaim his own health and well-being. It is no coincidence that all of these things have converged in the way that they have. God has worked out the timing so that each of us will have a friend in the process for support and encouragement, and the fact that his surgery preceded mine will allow me to see how his recovery goes and to learn, from someone I know and trust, what the pitfalls are and how to avoid them. What I hope to be able to offer to him is a safe place to ask questions, to voice frustrations, and an unconditional, supportive, ongoing friendship that will not be altered by his rapidly-changing appearance.
As I undertake my revolution, I have to prepare myself for a possible revolution in the world around me as I change. Already, unfortunately, I have been surprised that another longtime friend had a borderline-snarky response when I revealed my plans to pursue weight loss surgery. I've been really selective about who to reveal my intentions to, choosing people from whom I believed I could expect unconditional support. And yet, this friend surprised me in a less-than-totally-supportive way. That is fine. I believe the response just came from a lack of education on the subject. If my friend remains uneducated about weight loss surgery and why a person would eventually resort to it, that will be a matter of choice.
When I experienced my last substantial weight loss, years ago, people's changing responses to me, or more accurately, to my appearance, were interesting, surprising, humorous and frustrating in some cases. It always amused and annoyed me that, as I shrank, suddenly I seemed to become more visible. It made no sense to me, and for a longtime fat person, it really did a number on me at the time. I am much older now and in a much more stable place in my life, so, while I know there will be issues related to my changing looks, I don't expect to have the complete upheaval I experienced before. And if complete upheaval does rear its ugly head this time, I have tools and resources to deal with it that I lacked the last time. My groupmates in CPE will be a valuable source of insight in the months prior to surgery, as will my husband, the weight loss support group, and the other confidants I have chosen for myself. And if it begins to feel overwhelming I now know that counseling is an option, something I did not avail myself of the last time I lost a lot of weight. Accepting help, whatever kind I need, hurts my pride...but that kind of pride has not done much to contribute to my well-being over the years.
The Incredible Shrinking Diva's New Year's Revolution has begun! My prayer is that the coming year will bring drastic improvements in my physical, spiritual, emotional and mental health. The work I can do, I am willing to commit myself to doing. The work that only God can do, I am committed to trusting Him for. I want my life to be His work of art, pleasing to my Maker and a blessing to the people He places in my path.
Monday, December 26, 2011
It Was A Dark And Stormy Night...
Monday 12-26-11
No, really, it was!
The Sunday night after Thanksgiving was my overnight sleep study. I arrived at the hospital at 8 pm, right on time to begin the paperwork and preparations for the evening. It was pouring buckets of rain and, in typical fashion, the closest parking places were still a lengthy walk away from the hospital entrance. So I wagged myself, my overnight bag and a not-quite-large-enough umbrella from parking lot to hospital door without getting too soaked.
After filling out some forms and getting acquainted with Renee, my sleep tech, together we began the rather involved process of getting me prepped for the night. Electrodes and wires were attached to my temples, jaws (to detect if I grind my teeth in my sleep), ankles (to monitor feet and leg movements), and various spots on my scalp to measure my brain activity and the various levels of my sleep. I also wore a pulse oxymeter on my fingertip to measure my oxygen levels during the night. Then the whole bundle of wires got hooked up to a monitor at my bedside.
The room itself was pretty spartan, although not uncomfortable. There was a television which I never turned on, but for people whose bedtime routine includes TV it is good to have it there. I brought my Bible because reading it is my bedtime routine; I've done it for years, reading through the Bible annually, mostly at bedtime (and occasionally on my lunch hour). I can't really say how much Bible reading has improved the quality of my sleep, but it has certainly improved the quality of my life over the years.
I don't know how most people perceive their sleep study experiences, but it seemed to take me a long time to get to sleep that night. When I went in to discuss the findings of my study, the doctor told me that it had indeed taken me over an hour to get to sleep that night. (There was no clock in my room so I had to estimate how long it took me to fall alseep and how much sleep I thought I had gotten on the questionnaire I filled out the next morning.) Considering I was hooked up to a lot of wires, it was not as uncomfortable as I had thought it would be. I am a side sleeper and I know that I wake up momentarily every time I turn over, I have as long as I can remember. My sleep felt fitful to me, and the findings confirmed that it had been. I only experienced 2 brief periods of REM sleep, and during both periods my oxygen level dropped to about 82%. My diagnosis is mild sleep apnea and there is a CPAP unit in my future (continuous positive airway pressure) to make sure that my breathing and oxygen stay at a healthy level while I sleep.
Sleep apnea is common among obese people and can be a life-threatening condition. Most people are unaware thay they suffer from sleep apnea, which varies from mild to severe, in which cases patients actually stop breathing multiple times per night. Once other causes are ruled out, sleep apnea can also often be resolved with weight loss, surgical or otherwise. While I continue medically supervised weight loss prior to surgery, and as I get adjusted to my CPAP, I am hopeful that my sleep quality will be better and I may feel much more rested and energetic. If it makes the kind of difference my doctor thinks it will, I may feel better than I have in years. That is definitely worth a dark and stormy night spent at the hospital!
No, really, it was!
The Sunday night after Thanksgiving was my overnight sleep study. I arrived at the hospital at 8 pm, right on time to begin the paperwork and preparations for the evening. It was pouring buckets of rain and, in typical fashion, the closest parking places were still a lengthy walk away from the hospital entrance. So I wagged myself, my overnight bag and a not-quite-large-enough umbrella from parking lot to hospital door without getting too soaked.
After filling out some forms and getting acquainted with Renee, my sleep tech, together we began the rather involved process of getting me prepped for the night. Electrodes and wires were attached to my temples, jaws (to detect if I grind my teeth in my sleep), ankles (to monitor feet and leg movements), and various spots on my scalp to measure my brain activity and the various levels of my sleep. I also wore a pulse oxymeter on my fingertip to measure my oxygen levels during the night. Then the whole bundle of wires got hooked up to a monitor at my bedside.
The room itself was pretty spartan, although not uncomfortable. There was a television which I never turned on, but for people whose bedtime routine includes TV it is good to have it there. I brought my Bible because reading it is my bedtime routine; I've done it for years, reading through the Bible annually, mostly at bedtime (and occasionally on my lunch hour). I can't really say how much Bible reading has improved the quality of my sleep, but it has certainly improved the quality of my life over the years.
I don't know how most people perceive their sleep study experiences, but it seemed to take me a long time to get to sleep that night. When I went in to discuss the findings of my study, the doctor told me that it had indeed taken me over an hour to get to sleep that night. (There was no clock in my room so I had to estimate how long it took me to fall alseep and how much sleep I thought I had gotten on the questionnaire I filled out the next morning.) Considering I was hooked up to a lot of wires, it was not as uncomfortable as I had thought it would be. I am a side sleeper and I know that I wake up momentarily every time I turn over, I have as long as I can remember. My sleep felt fitful to me, and the findings confirmed that it had been. I only experienced 2 brief periods of REM sleep, and during both periods my oxygen level dropped to about 82%. My diagnosis is mild sleep apnea and there is a CPAP unit in my future (continuous positive airway pressure) to make sure that my breathing and oxygen stay at a healthy level while I sleep.
Sleep apnea is common among obese people and can be a life-threatening condition. Most people are unaware thay they suffer from sleep apnea, which varies from mild to severe, in which cases patients actually stop breathing multiple times per night. Once other causes are ruled out, sleep apnea can also often be resolved with weight loss, surgical or otherwise. While I continue medically supervised weight loss prior to surgery, and as I get adjusted to my CPAP, I am hopeful that my sleep quality will be better and I may feel much more rested and energetic. If it makes the kind of difference my doctor thinks it will, I may feel better than I have in years. That is definitely worth a dark and stormy night spent at the hospital!
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Untitled Drug-Addled Blog Project
Thursday 12-22-11
Diva Got Run Over By The "Itis"
I have spent the last week and a half sick. Hard core, fever-running, croupy-coughing, sore-throating, cold-sweating, crazy-dreaming SICK. It began with bronchitis, for which I went to the doctor, although because of scheduling, I could not see my regular doctor. I had to see another doctor in the office. Not a mistake I will repeat if I can avoid it. Dr. "P-is-for-Precious" started by telling me, "I just HATE antibiotics", and then elaborated that every time he sees a red bump come up on his skin, he thinks it's MRSA. Oh, dear Lord. So even with the cough and fever I brought with me to the office, he only grudgingly agreed to prescribe me a Z-Pak, which was clearly insufficient for my infection. He also prescribed an inhaler, which gave me a really bad reaction, keeping me up pacing my floor all night with heart palpitations and fits of tears for no reason. Horrific.
In all fairness, my escalating illness was partly my own fault. Last weekend my choral group joined with our city's symphony orchestra for a series of annual holiday concerts, four concerts in 3 days in full concert garb under hot stage lights packed onto risers in very close proximity with a hundred other singers breathing each other's air. These concerts are physically taxing under the best of circumstances, and since I was sick to begin with they were doubly so. By the end of the 3rd show on Saturday night, I was barely standing, and I did not make the final performance on Sunday. I could feel myself fevering during each of the shows, and I could also feel myself becoming more dehydrated with every phrase I sang. I spent all of Sunday in bed, getting up only for bathroom breaks, drinks and medicine. By this point, the bronchitis/infection had moved into my sinuses and my ears. When I get sick like this I almost feel like I'm going to die...then I wish I'd just go ahead and DIE already.
Monday was orientation for the CPE program. My sweet Hubs asked, "Do you think you'll be able to make it through orientation?" I thought, how could I ask God to bring me this far and then say I'm too sick to show up? So, I showed up, and I did get through the day...with many prayers, mine and those of other people. Orientation was an all-day affair, including a 2-hour walking tour of the hospital where I'll be serving, and the tour included more fever and dehydration. Tuesday was a little calmer a day, an appointment to get my car serviced, followed by breakfast, then a consult and weigh-in at my surgeon's office, then another break before going to my sleep center for the results of the sleep study I had last month. So I had breaks and time to rest, eat something and drink water.
Wednesday, yesterday, Hallelujah! I was able to see my regular doctor and get REAL medicine! Thank You, Lord, for a family doctor who knows me, who will prescribe strong antibiotics when necessary, and who knows what sick looks like when I bring it in with me. I received an injection of Rocephin ( strong broad-spectrum antibiotic) in the office, and prescriptions for Augmentin, (another strong broad-spectrum antibiotic) prednisone for imflammation of the infected areas, and a cough liquid that will help with the coughing and also help me to sleep.
At my weigh-in and consult on Tuesday I had lost another 6 pounds (a pleasant surprise) and according to the printout, it was all fat loss. Yippee! So that is a total of 15 pounds and 3 BMI points down. My next appointment and weigh-in are January 24, so I will have a little time after Christmas and New Year's to recover if I have any holiday mishaps with food.
So far, being sick has killed my appetite so the temptations have been minimal. Being sick, however, has also gotten me wondering how I will deal with illnesses like this once I am post-surgery. My body may respond differently to medicines, and my stomach pouch may not be able to take horse pill-sized antibiotics. At next month's support group meeting I'll be sure to ask about these concerns so I can be prepared for whatever could happen if I get The "Itis" after surgery.
Diva Got Run Over By The "Itis"
I have spent the last week and a half sick. Hard core, fever-running, croupy-coughing, sore-throating, cold-sweating, crazy-dreaming SICK. It began with bronchitis, for which I went to the doctor, although because of scheduling, I could not see my regular doctor. I had to see another doctor in the office. Not a mistake I will repeat if I can avoid it. Dr. "P-is-for-Precious" started by telling me, "I just HATE antibiotics", and then elaborated that every time he sees a red bump come up on his skin, he thinks it's MRSA. Oh, dear Lord. So even with the cough and fever I brought with me to the office, he only grudgingly agreed to prescribe me a Z-Pak, which was clearly insufficient for my infection. He also prescribed an inhaler, which gave me a really bad reaction, keeping me up pacing my floor all night with heart palpitations and fits of tears for no reason. Horrific.
In all fairness, my escalating illness was partly my own fault. Last weekend my choral group joined with our city's symphony orchestra for a series of annual holiday concerts, four concerts in 3 days in full concert garb under hot stage lights packed onto risers in very close proximity with a hundred other singers breathing each other's air. These concerts are physically taxing under the best of circumstances, and since I was sick to begin with they were doubly so. By the end of the 3rd show on Saturday night, I was barely standing, and I did not make the final performance on Sunday. I could feel myself fevering during each of the shows, and I could also feel myself becoming more dehydrated with every phrase I sang. I spent all of Sunday in bed, getting up only for bathroom breaks, drinks and medicine. By this point, the bronchitis/infection had moved into my sinuses and my ears. When I get sick like this I almost feel like I'm going to die...then I wish I'd just go ahead and DIE already.
Monday was orientation for the CPE program. My sweet Hubs asked, "Do you think you'll be able to make it through orientation?" I thought, how could I ask God to bring me this far and then say I'm too sick to show up? So, I showed up, and I did get through the day...with many prayers, mine and those of other people. Orientation was an all-day affair, including a 2-hour walking tour of the hospital where I'll be serving, and the tour included more fever and dehydration. Tuesday was a little calmer a day, an appointment to get my car serviced, followed by breakfast, then a consult and weigh-in at my surgeon's office, then another break before going to my sleep center for the results of the sleep study I had last month. So I had breaks and time to rest, eat something and drink water.
Wednesday, yesterday, Hallelujah! I was able to see my regular doctor and get REAL medicine! Thank You, Lord, for a family doctor who knows me, who will prescribe strong antibiotics when necessary, and who knows what sick looks like when I bring it in with me. I received an injection of Rocephin ( strong broad-spectrum antibiotic) in the office, and prescriptions for Augmentin, (another strong broad-spectrum antibiotic) prednisone for imflammation of the infected areas, and a cough liquid that will help with the coughing and also help me to sleep.
At my weigh-in and consult on Tuesday I had lost another 6 pounds (a pleasant surprise) and according to the printout, it was all fat loss. Yippee! So that is a total of 15 pounds and 3 BMI points down. My next appointment and weigh-in are January 24, so I will have a little time after Christmas and New Year's to recover if I have any holiday mishaps with food.
So far, being sick has killed my appetite so the temptations have been minimal. Being sick, however, has also gotten me wondering how I will deal with illnesses like this once I am post-surgery. My body may respond differently to medicines, and my stomach pouch may not be able to take horse pill-sized antibiotics. At next month's support group meeting I'll be sure to ask about these concerns so I can be prepared for whatever could happen if I get The "Itis" after surgery.
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