Summer Has Come To Texas

Sadly, this is true. the days in the 90s, the nights in the 80s. Texas is such a fickle place to live - I lived in hope during the spring rains (and floods) that we would have an extended cool spell and the 90s wouldn't hit until late June, early July. It's been known! But as we climbed to 89 and 90 a few weeks ago, I knew all was lost. So we're fighting the first blush of heat stroke and other, less serious heat-related ailments.

I looked back and discovered that my last blog was in February, so I have a little catching up to do. I am not intentionally remiss in blogging...I am just easily distracted.

Since I last blogged, I have had a few experiences. Usually my life is go to work, go home, go out, call friends, argue with husband and daughter, worry about various aspects of my life, and on and on...while the list is long, it's not very exciting (probably why I don't feel like I have much to blog about).

However, the last time I was blogging, I was dealing with a scary health challenge. I was beginning to realize how much weight I had gained over the year - or more. A few years ago I had lost quite a bit of weight after my gall bladder surgery. I had gotten into weight lifting and I was feeling good; then I got hurt and had surgery on my knee. Well, that was the beginning of an extended period of honing my couch potato skills. By the time I realized what was happening, I had to rest just walking from one end of the building to another at work (it's not all that big a building!); I rode the riding carts in every store; and I hated going to the movies because I had such a long walk from the parking lot to the elevator.

In fact, the beginning of the end for me was the night I didn't think I'd make it to the elevator...or even back to the car! I in pain, I was out of breath, and I was ashamed and scared; I was in tears, and my poor husband didn't know exactly what to do. He is my encourager and I moved on to the elevator and then to the movie - no, I don't remember what we saw. I was still too upset to enjoy it. After he asked if I wanted to see another movie or walk the mall. I sat on a bench and poured out my heart - all the fears and pain I was in. He had some admissions of his own, and together that night we joined Weight Watchers. April 12, 2011, I began a mission to save my own life. I'm not being melodramatic - I was on the cusp of having a heart attack. So, instead of wallowing in self-pity and depression, like I had been, I set about making some of my long-term goals possible again. To date, I have lost 33 pounds. I've had some gain, some loss, and it seems like a lot, but I feel better than I have for a VERY long time. I'm not back to the gym yet (not making it a priority - another hurdle), but I am walking the mall I used to avoid like the plague. I don't ride the carts in stores (except in extreme situations), and I am enjoying life again. I can see some goals I've set for myself in the distance.

So why do I share all this personal pain? Because someone out there is in as much pain and shame as I was. They are eating that emotion I was just a few short months ago. It's an addiction and it's something that you cannot magically recover from. I'm there...I get frustrated and emotional and sad and scared and mad - and that urge to eat and eat and eat all those foods that I thought made me feel better come to the fore. Then I take a breath, remember that night I didn't think I would survive, and picture myself where I want to be in the next two or three years - and I KNOW that I'm better than that addiction. For those anticipating making the step forward, do the research. Weight Watchers made sense to me, but other programs might be better for you. Take your time and in the meantime, make small changes. You'll be surprised how much of a difference it makes.

The other thing going on in my life lately (well, for nearly a year) is my father being diagnosed with Alzheimer's. In hindsight, it has been coming on for a couple years, but the disease really began taking over in late summer last year. So we went to see him at Christmas. He was decidedly different and somewhat confused at times. I vowed we'd take another trip at spring break, but it was May before we went again. He's not the same, exactly, but he's still Don. He has some of the same old mannerisms, and on his good days, he's pretty sharp. He still has a little of the old sense of humour, which was good to see. All I can say is he's blessed to have the drugs he's been prescribed, which make him less frustrated and somewhat sharper, and to be taken care of by some of the nicest people I've ever met. I cannot say enough about the VA and the State Veterans Home staff. They love, respect, and care for their residents, and for each of the back pats and thanks they get, it's NEVER enough! Thanks to all who spend their lives and careers caring for those who spent their lives serving.

Well, that was a lot more stuff than I thought I had to say. I will sign off for now and hope that I have more to say soon. God bless and I hope you stay well.