I stopped crying three days after the appointment. Of course, it was intermittent crying. I didn’t cry at work in front of my students, but tears fell down my cheeks on the thirty-minute drive home. I didn’t talk to anyone on the trip to my bedroom, where I changed into old flowy athletic shorts that were too tight around my bulging midsection. I could hardly talk to the young fit man at the gym’s front desk to say I wanted a day pass because any words might turn into incomprehensible crying. My downcast eyes and miserable face warned him not to press too hard for the yearlong gym membership. I cried during the half an hour of aerobic exercise, which everyone was recommending as a solution for my problems, and slunk out of the gym without acknowledging anyone.
I chose the stationary bike because my feet are chronically in pain. Any sort of running or exercise that puts pressure on my feet or even long walks don’t hurt in the moment, but I know that the pain will come. In a few hours, every step will be walking on glass.
At the appointment, the doctor referred me to a foot specialist who thinks that with a month of proper stretching, I could be pain-free. We’ll see. I’ve spent years trying one solution or another, never staying with anything long enough to get results, but this is a new me willing to do what I need to before it’s too late.
The worst number besides my weight was my HbA1c, which measures how close someone is to diabetes. Mom had it. All my sisters are fighting it, and I had gestational diabetes with Justin, which puts me at risk. My HbA1c was 5.6, point one away from pre-diabetic, which ranges from 5.7 to 6.4. Way too close for comfort.
Also looming is a scan on my arteries to make sure my high cholesterol isn’t clogging them up, a mammogram, and my first colonoscopy. My dad died of colon cancer so that’s definitely a thing to watch, though the onset of his cancer was in his sixties.
I also had thick blood, which is the dangerous opposite of anemia. That also was on Dad’s death certificate, but in his case, it was probably caused by cancer treatment. The most common cause is poor sleep. For months, I’ve been waking up at four, wandering through the house, and tossing and turning on the den sofa until a decent hour.
Mike and I went on an anniversary trip to San Diego this year. We had a great time visiting our old Parish, St. John of Damascus, which was celebrating fifty years in Poway, California. We took many walks on the beach, ate excellent food, and visited many beloved people. My friend Elise recommended a sleep mask with speakers for my sleeping problems, and the results are wonderful! Now when I wake up, I turn on an audiobook with a half-hour timer and fall back asleep within twenty minutes. I feel so much better. I also threw away my iron pills because that’s obviously not a thing for me anymore.
It was the A1c that scared me the most. On my third trip to the gym, I was able to talk to the grey-headed, big-bearded man at the desk, who happened to be the owner. We talked about growing older and health stuff for a good ten minutes. I let him talk me into a month-long membership.
Then I said, “What’s going to be the hardest for me is giving up chocolate. When I feel stressed or sad, I comfort myself with cookies and hot chocolate, which really helps.”
He said, “You need to comfort yourself with prayer.”
I said, “Amen!” and headed to the bike, thinking how hard that is.
I wish that prayer felt as good as a chocolate chip cookie. It does help, and praying is wonderful; but in the moment of panic or shame or exhaustion, what I still want most is a sugar fix. I put a cushion on the bike seat, pulled out my phone, and brought up a Christian romance novel. Reading is also a low-calorie comfort.
That was in May. I’ve started counting and reducing calories. I’m taking some health supplements. I drink green tea in the mornings. I tried starting the morning with a quarter teaspoon of pink Himalayan sea salt and the juice of half a lemon in ice water, but it tasted nasty. I don’t know what’s working, but I was at 200 pounds and now I’m at 187.
I miss eating chocolate every day, but the cravings are far fewer. Whenever I feel discouraged, I think about my numbers and keep the course. I didn’t even gain weight on my Pacific Northwest vacation, which I’ll write about soon.
I haven’t been back to the gym since our trip. The cycling was hard on my knees. A few years ago, I hurt my shoulder while swimming. The hyper flexibility granted to me by a touch of the Ehlers-Danlos gene that runs in my family makes almost all exercise a little bit scary. My feet feel a little bit better with new shoes and all that stretching, so maybe I can try something new. I need something besides Pilates, though my muscles are much stronger. I need to work on stamina and get some heart-pumping aerobics in my life.
When you think of fifty-year-old me and all the tests coming up in June and July, please say a quick prayer. Ι cried for the first few days because Ι felt my mortality and realized how much Ι want to lead a full and healthy life. These days Ι feel optimistic about the future. It’s scary getting a wake-up call but sometimes very productive.
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