Where I die .. one muscle at a time.

Sleep study is behind me, although I still have to see a pulmonologist to get the result interpreted.  Instead of re-posting about it, let's jump straight into yesterday and the little stick-figure girl who tried to kill me.  For 4 weeks I am required (my new favorite word, "required") to go see my personal torturer trainer rehab conditioning lady, twice a week.  I met her yesterday and she already has it in for me.  I don't know what I ever did to her!

For the record, I am shocked at how little I could actually do.

The stick figure girl's name is Mercedes.  Her job is to help me learn how to exercise and how to do it properly, and to get me to start moving again.  I mean honestly, I'm fifty-freaking-one years old, I KNOW how to exercise.  It's just that I have gotten too fat to do it comfortably or to do it without feeling like I'm gonna die!

Oh, and you just know that when we went into the torture chamber I was confronted with something I have been spending a few years totally avoiding - a WHOLE WALL OF MIRRORS!!  You just KNOW I wanted to be THERE!

Anyway, she did horrible things to me like made me stand on one foot for 30 seconds!  And she made me do it on the other foot too!  Then she gave me something squishy to stand on and I had to stand on it on one foot again - for 30 seconds, and then the other foot too!  The horror!  From there - there was an even squishier thing to stand on .. and oh .. I need to sit down.

So she concentrated on my legs, my thigh muscles, the one's that do most of the weight bearing.  Well - I'm walking around (sometimes) aren't I??  Sheesh!  After some squats (I know, right??!) and a bunch of lunges she directed me to the treadmill.  By then my face was bright red, I was out of breath and as the treadmill (on the lowest possible speed already) monitored my heart rate, SLOW DOWN kept scrolling across the read-out.  Mercedes asked me more than once, "do you have any heart problems?"

Yeah, not starting out well, this moving thing.  Hafta keep going ...

**Oh, that little girl who does not need to exercise herself - Mercedes?  She may actually be a nice young girl who is doing her job effectively.  Then again, she may really want to kill me.

Another step ..

Saw my primary care physician today, brought him chocolate as a bribe because it's Valentine's Day.  He's a bit of a chocoholic, or so I understand.  I had spoken to his nurse a week ago and she said "Well .. talk to him.  He doesn't usually do diets."  She said it like I was asking him to monitor my body piercing spree.  So I came prepared today.  Chocolate because it is a legitimate gift on a recognized holiday, and paperwork from my surgeon's office explaining what was required.

A little voice in the back of my head was remembering when my therapist (yes I've done that too) sent me to him asking for an anti-depressant and hearing him say "I'm not going to be any one's prescription pad."  So he proceeded to question me for a couple of minutes to find out why my therapist thought I needed meds, and when I burst into tears in the middle of it he was all ..okay I'll give you the drugs!

Mmm.. Toblerone

Today, he saw the chocolate, looked over the paperwork and said sure, we can do this!  WHEW!!!

After making 5 consecutive future appointments I was on my way out when one of the ladies in the office asked what I was having done.  I told her and she said "Oh I wanted to do that!  I signed up for a seminar but I didn't go."  She asked me how you get approved and when I told her about the sleep study, the psychologist, the diet .. she said "Nah!  Too much work!"  and dismissed the idea completely.  Which is fine, I'm not about talking people into doing this too.  But my thought was - she doesn't want it badly enough, cause even fat girls will jump through hoops when they really want something.

It's against the Geneva Convention, isn't it?

I should look so good!

I hate the phone.  Or more accurately, I hate the phone at home.  Does not even occur to me to check my messages very often.  When I do I hope all the messages are junk I can delete immediately.  Not sure why I feel that way.  Regardless, I listened to my answering machine yesterday and discovered that a rehab place had called.  Apparently my new surgeon type doctor requested they put me on a conditioning program.  It's kind of amazing really.  You want weight loss surgery so you are willing to do whatever "they" tell you to do.  They being the insurance companies and the doctors.

So, for 4 weeks, twice a week, I will be going to see a physical therapist, basically.  But for some people it will become - my personal trainer.  Yep, that's it, a personal trainer!  I've always wanted my own trainer, haven't you?

They don't water board fat girls, do they?

Taking the good with the bad

Heard from my surgeon's office today, Michelle, who does the insurance for A - N or some such stretch of the alphabet, called me.  But before she called me, Liz from the sleep study place phoned.  Yay!  Can you say exciting?  I made an appointment for next Friday for the sleep study, spoke about what I need to do, what to bring, etc.  The only bad part is that I cannot use a computer or even my phone as it may interfere with the equipment.  Hmm.  Too cheap to put out for wi-fi, me thinks.  So that will be tough for me.  But WHO CARES?!?!  It's a sleep study!  I've always wanted to do one.

THEN Michelle called me, she had verified coverage with my insurance plan - good - and had confirmed I have to do a 6-month supervised diet first - BAD.  But I can do it with my primary care physician and that's good!  I have an appointment to see him on Monday, Valentines Day.  Did I mention he's a chocoholic?   He doesn't usually do diet supervision but I am going to bring him chocolate and convince him how easy it will be.  Already going to see enough new doctors.

Michelle went on to tell me at about month 5 of the diet I will finish up the things like the psych evaluation and whatever else is left over.  Liz called back and left me a voicemail saying that after my sleep study I need to see a pulmonologist to go over results of that.  I will call to make that appointment tomorrow.

Finally.  The ball begins to roll.  *Gleeful grin*

. . . and then I will live happily ever after.

It's easy to think that if only I were thin again, I would be happy.  I wouldn't be embarrassed or ashamed of how I look, I would be more willing to put myself out there and risk being the center of attention.  I wouldn't feel the need to hide when I saw an old boyfriend, and on and on.  Well a lot of that is true.  But weight loss alone cannot make anyone happy.  It's a tool and it's all in how you use it.  Look at the picture below, at all the maladies made worse by obesity.  And look at the percentages of improvement!

My doctor says I am borderline enough that if I lose weight I will no longer be considered diabetic.  That's HUGE for me.  And if the reason I am tired all the time is because I have sleep apnea and that is resolved to some degree, that would be incredible too.  Oh to wake up actually feeling like I slept!  So to me at this point, the health factor is actually more important than the cosmetic part.

I would be lying if I said I didn't want to feel attractive again.  I do!  I do!  Raising my hand and copping to that!  But as I've mentioned to several people - my dad and his brother both had strokes before they died.  I am terrified of that.  I need to take care of myself as well as possible and I've come to the realization that since I have been heavy in my life, my body wants to be heavy and those fat cells will always be screaming to be fed.  So I need help with that.  I need help to get to a point where I can do yoga - which I enjoy - and not experiencing my belly getting in the way.  I would love to be able to go out and walk - without feeling like people are looking at me.  And oh my gosh I would love the aches in my joints to lesson and the discomfort of extra weight to be gone.  I need help with it and I am going to take that path.  And I am excited to be doing it.