Table For One, Salad For Three

You know how I love artichokes, preferably eating them with my husband at the table by candlelight. (It’s what we do...14 years and counting). Unfortunately, Larry had to work last evening while the most lovely artichoke sat in our refrigerator. It called to me every time I opened the door. What to do, what to do? Well…hmmmm…I decided to have a date with myself.

“Bering, table for one…Bering, table for one.”

I set out a placemat and a napkin and lit a candle. I melted a little light butter and poured some balsamic vinegar in a bowl. I put on Sirius Symphony Hall

and, to make up for the lack of conversation, grabbed the latest issue of Arthritis Today. (What were you expecting? Playgirl? LOL) With the dog under the table hoping I’d drop a morsel or three,

I sat down to an awesome artichoke feast.

Artichokes rule.

Especially the heart.

Someone once asked me if I were to describe myself as a vegetable, what would it be? It was 1993. I was sad and jaded and weighed about 150 pounds. I said I was an onion because you could peel away at the layers and not find anything underneath. Ask me that same question today and I’d say I was an artichoke. Peel away at the layers and there really is a heart underneath. A solid, happy, giving heart.

Here’s how I know that. 7 a.m. today, I got a call from my daughter Cassie. She sounded awful. She hadn’t had a lick of sleep. Claire was up all night convinced her stuffy nose would kill her and complaining that her ears were “leaking.”

*dingdingding* “I’ll take Ear Infection for a thousand, Alex.”

I was still waking up and thinking about what I had to do today, then I realized that what I HAD to do today was get down to Pittsburgh and help out my family. I threw together a salad for lunch, and packed breakfast for the road: a yogurt/plum/blackberries/Grape-Nuts concoction that’s easy to eat in the car, along with a brewed Big Green Hojicha. I brushed my teeth, threw on some makeup and was on the road by 9. 

Cassie and the kids were still on their way home from the doctor’s office when I arrived, so I picked up toys and cleaned the kitchen, fed the dog and watered the plants. When they got home, Claire was all about being held, Luca needed a nap, and so did Cassie. When Luca woke up from his nap, Cassie was still sleeping, Claire and I were watching “Maggie and the Ferocious Beast,” and I was eating my salad and sharing all my tomatoes with Claire – something we’ve done since she could chew. Claire loves tomatoes no matter how she gets them, but they’re the most fun to eat when picked out of my salad. Luca wandered over to my salad bowl and I gave him a few black beans. Mmmmm…he liked those a lot. So I gave him a few more. Then Claire wanted more tomatoes. Then Luca wanted more black beans. Woohoo! It was a feeding frenzy at Grammy’s salad trough!

We hung out a little longer before Cassie woke up. Then I put Claire down for a nap and played a “gah gah gah” finger game with Luca (hard to describe, but there’s much silly giggling involved). By the time I hit the road, I was so full of joy I could hardly contain it.

This week was a little tough as I tried to get all my physical “dis”ability ducks in a row. Today, though, made me feel relevant again. While I’m certainly not happy my granddaughter is sick, knowing I’m still capable of coming through with love and comfort was exactly what I needed. We all need to be reminded that we matter no matter what.

And, like Justin Hayward sings in the Moody Blues song “New Horizons,” I’ll find my own peace of mind some day.

Exercise Guilt

As many of you know, I’ve had to cut way back on my workouts because of my latest shoulder and knee issues. I’m still maintaining my weight, but man, cutting back on exercise makes me feel like I’m walking a tightrope.

At least I'm not alone on that tightrope. Here’s a recent email exchange I had with my friend Shari, who's maintaining a 35-pound weight loss and is training for a triathlon. However, the last few weeks she’s been laid low with a virus. Here’s part of our communication:

Shari: “This illness has taken a toll on my training. My workout schedule has gone to crap the past two weeks. Now, with the [triathlon] a week away, I should be backing off the exercise and resting my muscles, but I feel a little panicked about having so much time off. I know I still have the endurance to do the event. I just feel like I’m getting fat because my routine is out of whack. It wouldn’t have bothered me to take a week off before the event if the prior TWO weeks’ workouts hadn’t been so spotty.”

Me: “Isn’t it interesting how our brain tells us one thing and reality tells us another? I panic about exercise in times of stress, too, and underestimate my actual efforts until I breathe and recall. Breathe and recall. We live on the cusp of weight gain and weight maintenance. It’s an uncomfortable place to be. I’d like to place a hammock in between the two places and just swing and enjoy my life and not feel guilty all the damn time.

“You have NO reason to feel guilty, but I know that anything outside of ‘normal’ will create a sense of guilt, of not good enough. It’s true with exercise and it’s true with food. Just keep in mind, you navigated Christmas and the traditional foods you make with your family and things turned out just fine. Same thing will happen with this illness.”

Shari: “I was just thinking about how we feel about exercising/not exercising. It prompted me to go back through my tracker and add up all my exercise time for the past two weeks.

My perception is that I have NOT exercised enough because of being sick. However, I’ve actually done 13.5 HOURS of exercise in that two-week span. I’m feeling guilty and I’ve still done more than most healthy people.

That said, roughly half those hours were a combination of yoga and walking. Still, my walking speed has greatly increased. I'd consider it a moderate workout. That still leaves a good 3 hours a week of high intensity exercise that I’ve done while sick. I have no reason to feel guilty. So why do I?”

Ah…there’s the rub. Exercise guilt.

I’ve written about this many times before, how I CAN’T take two days off. I HAVE to find time. Must. Can’t. Have to. Must. Can’t. Have to.

As I wrote in March 2009 (“Are You ‘A Just-in-Time’ or a ‘Just-In-Case’ Maintainer?” ), I’ve been living in this regimented and worrisome way for three years now, to the point of excess. Part of this thinking has grown out of my fear of advancing arthritis. I HAVE TO exercise today because tomorrow (or next week or next month or next year) I might not be able to. And when I won’t be able to, I’ll gain 170 pounds, and…and….

Breathe, Lynn.

Unlike milk in the refrigerator, bodies don’t come with an expiration date. None of us know when or how our bodies will slow down and die, and we can only ask them to do what they can in the moment. But when we’re faced with studies such as the one out a few weeks ago from the American Medical Association that suggest that as we age, we need even more exercise to avoid gaining weight, it can really mess with our heads.

So today’s question: How do you navigate the shoulda/coulda/wouldas of exercise guilt?
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Congrats to LW reader Terra who won the Karen Voight “Pure & Simple Stretch” DVD! Terra “likes” the Lynn’s Weigh Facebook site (FB doesn’t use the term “fan” anymore). Are you a liker yet? Click here to join us!

On Anger

In last Friday’s post (see “I’ve Come A Long Way, Baby”), I wrote about how I’ve been reading some of my old journals for my book project (more on that later). Here’s another post, albeit a bit darker, about this looking into my past via my own words.

1987. I was 23 for half the year, my daughters were 4 and not quite 3, and I was married to husband #2. I was dieting, as usual (I weighed about 250), and wrote a lot about my first husband who’d been dead only four years.

Much of this particular journal was painful to read, especially knowing the outcome of marriage #2 and the growing pains I endured as a mother. In this journal, I wrote about the time I told Carlene to shut up. I felt horrible and went to her room and apologized. She hugged me, not wanting to say anything because if she did she knew she’d cry, and Carlene hated to cry.

Soon after that entry, I’d found a poem by Peter Meinke that I copied in my journal. In the margin I wrote “daughter Carly” next to the author’s reference to his son Peter. Here’s the poem:

This is a poem to my son Peter
Whom I have hurt a thousand times, whose large and vulnerable eyes have glazed in pain at my ragings
Thin wrists and fingers hung boneless in despair
Pale, freckled back bent in defeat
Pillows soaked by my failure to understand
I have scarred through weakness and impatience your frail confidence forever
Because when I needed to strike, you were there to be hurt
And because I thought you knew you were beautiful and fair, your bright eyes and hair
But now I see that no one knows that about himself
But must be told and retold until it takes hold
Because I think anything can be killed after awhile, especially beauty
So I write this for life, for love, for you, my oldest son Peter, age 10 going on 11

I copied this poem because it reminded me of Carlene, of my failings as a mother to understand her fears and vulnerabilities. While I didn’t yell often, and not always at my children, when I did, it ruined so much of the good we had. It made them walk on egg shells, not wanting to rock the boat of my inability to express myself more civilly.

I remember clearly the day in 1992 when I slammed the phone a dozen times and shattered it in the receiver after fighting with my almost ex-husband. Carlene, brave and soft, said to me, “Mommy, it scares me when you yell.” She was 9. She said her sister agreed. Carlene faced me knowing my response might be more anger. But it wasn’t. I was embarrassed and humbled and so very very sorry for having frightened my children. I was rarely ever angry at them. I was angry at my life. Angry at death and hardship. Angry at myself for bad choices and regret. I promised her I’d never yell again, and I truly made every effort not to. I still had my moments, but at least in those moments I remembered Carlene and her brave voice telling me how she felt and my tone was less venomous.

Reading my journals is rarely a happy trip down memory lane. I seemed to always write about the bad stuff of me, flogging myself nightly for the things I did wrong and not the things I did right.

I’ve done this often with my body, too. Even now, I get angry sometimes when I think about what I’ve done to it and for what it can’t do anymore, much of it due to having been morbidly obese. But just as I promised my daughter I’d try my best to never yell at her again, I’m going to promise myself to do my best to stop the cycle of anger, grief and guilt I put myself through with much frequency. I will do this by journaling more positively and finding alternatives to self-flagellation as solutions to my perceived failings.

One positive alternative and something that makes me happy is to share things that have been helpful to me throughout my weight loss and now in maintenance. What I’ve found is that the more informed I am about food and exercise and the psychology of what motivates me or holds me back the more successful I am. Knowledge is power and so I’m passing some power on to you.

I’ve gone through my book shelves and found 11 books and two DVDs that I’m going to give away here, one at a time until they’re gone. The only thing I ask in return is that if you win a book or DVD that you either pass it on when you’re done (if you’ve found it helpful and can part with it) or keep it and donate a non-perishable healthy food item to your local food shelf.

I think I’ll start with the DVD “Pure &Simple Stretch” with Karen Voight.  Not only is this a great introduction to stretching (or if you already stretch, this could teach you some new, interesting moves), Karen Voight has a calming presence. We can all use that now and again.

Leave a comment or send an email to lynnbering@verizon.net if you’d like to throw your name in the hat for this DVD. I’ll draw a winner on Tuesday.

Regarding my book: I have completed the proposal (which, ask any published author, is a bear and often harder than writing the entire book). It is being shopped around by my agent, so right now it’s up to publishing industry. WHEN someone buys it (I’m staying as positive as I can), I will then finish writing the book. So it will be at least a year, but I thank you so much for your support.

I've Come A Long Way, Baby

When I was a kid and a friend said something hurtful or I felt bad because I’d struck out during a softball game or I had cramps, my mother would always say, “This, too, shall pass.”

Mom understood impermanence. The weather, the price of gas, the baseball season, our joys, our sorrows and especially our bodies – nothing stays the same. Everything is in a constant state of change.

For the last four years, I’ve been working through meditation to adopt and express compassion and loving kindness toward myself and other sentient beings, even (and perhaps especially) the person I used to be.

As part of my book (yes, I’m still working on that sucker), I’m poring over my journals from the early 1980s to now. I’ve spent hours reading about feelings I had in response to specific incidents and life in general. One day I’d be on top of the world and the next day not. As I read, I constantly remind myself that those words were written by my 20-something- or 30-something-year-old self and that I’m interpreting them from the perspective of a my 46-year-old self, and to cut my younger self some slack.

Those times passed. They were impermanent. But year after year I built upon those experiences, and the ways in which I worked out those then-current problems and feelings (perhaps not always in the healthiest of ways, but the only ways I knew how at the time), made me the woman I am today. A woman who, I’m sure, will frustrate the 65-year-old me when I read today’s journals in 20 years.

The lighter side of my journals are the entries about my kids, particularly the things I’d forgotten – small things like I couldn’t remember how old they were when they got their ears pierced, and poignant things like the days in the hospital following Cassie’s. She’d developed jaundice and was being treated under bright lights for several hours a day. I couldn’t have her in my room as much as I wanted, but one night, after the nurse brought her to me for a short visit, the fire alarm went off and all the doors to the ward were shut. For 90 minutes I got to hold Cassie all alone in my room before the cause for the alarm was solved and the nurse came to retrieve Cassie and put her back under the lights.

There are entries about spelling tests and arguments, boyfriends and birthday parties, how unfair I was to not let Cassie shave her legs until she was in sixth grade, how awesome I was because I let Carlene go to homecoming in 10th grade. One of the funniest entries I’ve read to date was written November 23, 1990. Carlene was 7 and Cassie was almost 6.

“Yesterday was Thanksgiving. Carly was going to take a picture of me across the table from her. There was a candle between us and, very seriously, she looked at me and asked if the camera would blow the candle out!

“Cassie said that the turkey was talking to her inside her tummy. She said he said he didn’t like to get eaten.”

I called Carlene and read this to her. I was laughing so hard I was crying. She laughed, too, and couldn’t believe she was such an air-head. I reminded her she was 7.

Laughter shall pass just as sorrow shall pass, but some things from the past are worth bringing into the present moment, whether it is for a good laugh or a chance to learn from our mistakes. Without my journals, these experiences would be permanently erased from memory, and I doubt I’d have this chance to learn to accept with loving kindness the person I was 5, 10, 25 years ago. It’s probably the nicest gift I’ve ever given myself.

Do you keep a journal? It’s never to late to start. You’ll thank me in 20 years.

It's All One Big Huge Freaking Circle

I’ve been on this weight loss/weight maintenance thing for more then five years now and what I’ve come to realize is that everything – and I mean EVERYTHING – that my body feels and experiences affects my weight and how I think about and relate to my weight. What I eat impacts my health. How I move impacts my hunger. How I think and feel and interact with other human beings impacts my physical and emotional well being, which in turn determines weight gain, loss or maintenance.

It’s a huge freaking circle when you think about it.

Having said that, this blog entry is not directly related to weight because I talk about iontophoresis (it’s OK to roll your eyes…I totally understand), but we all, in some way or other, have therapies we use (physically or emotionally; professionally or on our own and off the cuff) to help us deal with our (for lack of a kinder word) shit.

As you know, for the last few months I’ve been having issues with my left arm. Muscles and tendons feel pinched, often times I can’t pick things up, and I have a hard time pressing my fingers together because my bicep keeps calling in sick. I went in for an MRI on Monday and am waiting the results, which if the results are anything like the right arm, I will take my place in the 3 percent of folks who have bilateral shoulder issues without actually injuring said shoulders.

Whatever. I’m used to it. Hello wrists, toes and knees! But to stay ahead of the game, I’m getting a spiffy therapy called iontophoresis with dexamethosone (“ionto” being the means for transferring the “dex,” which is a cortisteroid drug).

If any of you have inflammation issues in a tendon or ligament or arthritis, this therapy is da bomb! Seriously. Whether you have it administered in a 14-minute segment (here I am hooked up like a car battery),

or in a 24-hour patch (again, my upper arm, this time all taped up and happy),

iontophoresis is an amazing way to get relief.

Of course you have to go through the ice bath first, in which your physical therapist sadistically applies ice directly on to your skin for what seems like hours but only lasts four or five minutes, but still it makes your muscles wonder, “What the goll darn is going on?”

Anyway, tonight I’ve got the battery-charged patch on my arm and am feeling good. I admit, however, that I’m a little on edge, wondering what I’ll find out tomorrow when I pick up my MRI results. My left knee was MRI’ed, but I have an appointment with a new knee doc on Tuesday so I’m not even going there tonight. It’s my left shoulder I’m thinking (worrying?) about. I’m pretty sure things are ripped and torn and in need of repair, just as they are in my right arm. I’ve persevered so far with chiropractic, massage and physical therapy, but with both arms on the verge of collapse (and with two young grandbabies that I want to pick up and hold) I may need to consider more invasive maneuvers. We’ll see.

I’ve cut back significantly on my strength training, and try as I might to increase the cardio to make up for it, I’ve failed miserably. But the good news is that my weight has stayed that same, probably because I’ve cut back on calorie intake. Just because I’m in a quandary with a few joints does NOT give me license to eat willy nilly. I’ve come too far in this journey to let a few muscle rips and tears to stymie me.

In the meantime, I’m taking in the nice weather, appreciating the kindness of my PT, and giving thanks for the fact that I can still chop veggies, wash dishes, vacuum the carpets and type this blog. We all have our issues – physically and emotionally – and we can choose how they affect us. I’m choosing to stay as positive as I can.

Into Each Life A Little Rain Must Fall

"Be still sad heart and cease repining;
Behind the clouds the sun is shining,
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life a little rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary"
Longfellow

I was 20 minutes out of Pittsburgh Friday, heading home on Route 28. The rain was light when I left, but getting heavier. It was only 4:00, but it looked like dusk. I called Cassie and asked her to check the weather online and tell me what was ahead. She said the radar indicated I was heading into a large red cell, but that closer to home things looked better.

I threw the Jeep into full-time 4-wheel drive and put the wipers on high. Traffic was steady. No one was passing anyone. Suddenly, a hot-shot green pickup came barreling out of nowhere and rode my tail before darting out in front of the car on my left, barely missing my back left bumper. Good thing I needed both hands to drive, not that he’d have seen my one-finger salute through the downpour. Schadenfreude isn’t very Zen, I know, but I felt a gratifying pleasure when, four minutes later and still driving cautiously, I caught up to him at the stoplight at the end of the four-lane freeway. 

The stoplight is where Route 28 turns into a two-lane nightmare that can take me 40 minutes or 60 minutes to trek, depending on whether a coal truck and/or a semi truck is ahead of me. On Friday, however, it wasn’t a truck but an impending red cell that slowed everyone down.

My Jeep was one of a long line of vehicles (including the green pickup) that drove into that big dark blip on the radar. Like synchronized swimmers, we drove up and down and around the hills as the lightening flashed and the wind threatened to blow us off the road. The rain was pounding so hard I couldn’t hear Ira Flatow,  so I turned off the radio and thought about the person driving the lead car. Was he white-knuckled? Was his heart palpitating? Mine would be. I’m not a leader. I’d have pulled over and let someone else take over. I was sincerely grateful to that driver 15 cars ahead of me who neither panicked or choked and wished my driver’s ed instructor had been so brave 30 *cough* years ago when he had me turn the wrong way down a one-way street in downtown Minneapolis in rush-hour traffic. Talk about choke and panic.

When the radio’s off, my mind starts to write. It links circumstances to metaphors and I start talking to myself. I really wish cars came equipped with black box recorders. Anyway, the metaphor du jour was, conveniently, the rain, and more specifically, the red cell on the radar.

When I decided to lose weight for the last time, I was extremely motivated and I dropped the first 15 pounds fairly easily. Then the scale started slowing down, even going in reverse some weeks. I “called ahead” to the people on the Weight Watchers discussion board who were on the path ahead of me. What’s coming up? What do I need to prepare for? And they told me about the “big red cell” – that storm of doubt and fear, loose skin and dissatisfaction, frustration and the fat girl who lives in the back of our heads.

I’d journeyed down the weight-loss road a thousand times before, always as the green pickup truck. In a hurry and unfocused. This time, equipped with knowledge – especially the knowledge that I wasn’t alone – I got in line and rode the hills up and down and around. I turned down the noise and listened to my body. That’s what made all the difference.

Since slowing it down five years ago, I’ve encountered lots of green pickups who were stopped by the red light. Some fell into line and journeyed slowly with the rest of us, but most pulled over and avoided the big red cell.

I can still see the clouds in my rear-view mirror. I might have lost weight, but I need to stay ahead of the storm. And that journey isn’t any different than the one I began in 2005. It’s all part of the same path.

So what about you? Are you the green pickup or are you the vehicle that’s geared down with its lights on and wipers on high?
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Congratulations to Tricia, who blogs at Endurance Isn’t Only Physical, for winning the “10 Minute Solution: Ultimate Bootcamp with Jessica Smith” DVD.

Another Cassie Workout DVD Review And Giveaway!

While I’m busy hosting (and goofing off with) my BFF sister-in-law from Minnesota this week, daughter Cassie is taking over Lynn’s Weigh again with a review and giveaway!

That's Cassie on the left...LOL Claire is in the Super shirt.

She’s reviewing “10 Minute Solution: Ultimate Bootcamp with Jessica Smith.” If you’d like to enter your name to win this DVD, leave a comment or send an email, as always, to me at lynnbering@verizon.net.
With her ass-kicking review, here’s my daughter, Cassie Conti.

I joined the Army eight years ago when I was 17 years old. And while yes, having a 17-year-old’s body makes it a bit easier, boot camp was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life. So I can say with a bit of authority that this DVD lives up to its “Boot Camp” name. It is quick, effective and difficult. If you are looking for an easier workout or just starting a workout routine, this DVD probably isn’t for you just yet. I loved its intensity, muscle-specific training and over all butt-kicking force. This is what I wrote to Mom after I did the first two workouts: “Holy crap, this DVD is kicking my ass!”

“Ultimate Bootcamp” is the perfect workout for people with intermediate to advanced workout experience who are in a time crunch and looking for a quick, solid workout. The DVD has five separate components:

Fat Fighting Skills & Drills
I am NOT good at jumping, nor am I particularly agile or coordinated since I broke my hip 8 years ago. This workout alone will greatly help me with all of these issues. It is a non-stop, heart-pumping, kick-your-butt workout. The 10 minutes go by so quickly, yet it is a makes-me-sweat/I need-a-glass-of-water-at-the-end segment.

Ultimate Upper Body Training
Wow. Just wow. I have never known an upper body workout to be so intense! Jessica’s moves are so unique and muscle specific. Even using my 5-pound dumbbells, I was struggling at times. However, I’m not saying it is too difficult, it is just extremely challenging. This workout has traditional pushups as well as triceps specific pushups, so if you have wrist issues, it may be a difficult segment. There are also several moves where the weights are doubled up, increasing the intensity.

Ultimate Lower Body Training
I just completed this exercise tonight and my legs feel like Jell-O. As I said before, I’m not good at jumping, but I figure how can I improve at something if I don’t work on it, right? There are a lot of lunges and kicking in this segment, however, the moves are original and refreshing. Coordination is key and since I’m weak in that area, this segment will help improve that.

Ultimate Total Body Training
This one is great for toning. I also found muscles I never knew existed. In my favorite move, Jessica has you in a pushup position while holding on to dumbbells. Then, by bringing your foot up to your hand and back, you end the rep by doing a one-armed row. Yowza! For the first time in a long time, I was sore when I woke up this morning. Sore in a good way :)

Six-Pack Ab Attack
This segment definitely lives up to its name. I have never done an ab workout like this before, and if you’re looking for a traditional sit-up and crunches routine, you’ve found the wrong workout. You’re going to do a LOT of planks, and stability and lower ab work. Jessica even has you pretend you’re crawling in the mud! This is a high intensity, super-fast-paced workout. I had a hard time completing this the first time around. Second time it was easier, but still really challenging.

Jessica Smith is an awesome motivator and isn’t annoying in the least bit. I like that she is upbeat, easy to follow and not to mention gorgeous and has an amazing body. That’s why my favorite thing about this DVD is that even Jessica is out of breath at times. If she’s getting a tough workout, then so am I!

Medical Assertiveness Part I

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” Robert Frost

My recent shoulder and knee issues have me thinking about the side benefits of weight loss. As you all know, I started losing weight in 2005 because I’d spent the good part of 2004 figuring out what I wanted for myself. Two roads had diverged: Did I want to lose weight or stay where I was? Either way, I was going to commit to my decision because I was tired of the guilt trips and the hemming and hawing. After journaling it out, I realized that I loved myself and wanted to change, and so I took the road less traveled.

130 pounds later, roads diverged again, but the decision about which path to choose was easier to make because the self love that got me to lose weight got me to my doctor to start unraveling the mystery of my joints. At 300-pounds, I was afraid to seek help; afraid of being told to simply “lose weight.” But at 160 pounds, I’d gained the confidence I needed to not only find answers, but to work proactively for solutions.

In my last blog, Lori commented: “Can you imagine how you would be feeling today if you had not lost the weight? It's mind boggling, isn't it?”

Yikes! I’d probably be in total agony, still refusing to see a doctor, of if I'd seen a doc, I’d probably be taking pain killers like candy. Instead, I chose the road less traveled.

After reading Lori’s comment, I searched my files and found two essays I’d written regarding finding my voice in the medical world - a voice I’d not have found without the confidence that came with losing weight. I truly admire people who can be advocates for themselves no matter what their weight, but what I’ve learned through years of writing about weight loss is that most folks who are obese and overweight struggle, as I did, to find respect in the medical community. That’s why these essays are so important to me. (I’ll post part two next week.) They remind me just how much self-esteem and self-respect play into how we deal with our health.

From April 2008:

Hyaluronic acid has been a godsend to my dilapidated knees. Every six to eight months, I have a series of three injections in each knee over a three-week period (six injections in all). The medication replaces the synovial fluid I lack, providing a cushion for my kneecaps.

The injections can be painful when not administered properly because the needle must go between two joints and deep into damaged tissue. When done right and slowly, it’s not too bad. I go to my happy place and relax and it’s over in less than two minutes. Most of the time, my favorite orthopedic assistant/specialist, Steve, gives me the injections. He calls me things like “Scooter” and “Buddy” and makes me feel relaxed and safe.

During one of the series of injections eight months ago, “Doogie Howser” walked in the room with Steve and I immediately tensed. “Doogie” was a med student, Steve explained. I asked the young pup skeptically, “How many of these have you done?” He answered enthusiastically, “I’ve been doing this for two weeks!”

“Um, son?” I said, rolling my eyes. “I have underwear older than you.”

He laughed nervously, but thankfully, he listened to Steve’s advice and the injections went smoothly.

Last week, however, Miss Barbie Med Student walked in with my doctor, not Steve, and took control of the needles. She jabbed each one in – two inches deep – without saying a word to me or a breath of a warning. I was pissed. But did I say anything? Heck no. I went home, limping, and wondered how I’d tell my doctor next week that I didn’t want Barbie within 10 feet of me.

Why is it so hard for me to be assertive with doctors? Probably because most of my life I've been so passive. All week before my next injections I played a scenario in my head of me in which I was kind yet firm if another Newbie walked in the room ready to stab my knees like they were porterhouse steaks.

On appointment day, my doctor walked in the room followed by a tall lanky young newbie who nervously stuttered, “Nice to meet you” and shook my hand. His hand was sweaty. Great. My doctor said Newbie had been taking ribbing all day and was feeling a little “off.” Off? OFF? Some kid who couldn’t handle some teasing was going to put needles in my knees?

I didn’t think so. That’s when something that felt like courage bubbled up inside me.

“How many of these have you done?” I asked Newbie.

“A few,” he said, smiling.

“Doc, I gotta tell you,” I said. “Last week, that girl really hurt me. I didn’t walk right for 24 hours.”

In response, my doctor actually apologized. He asked me if I’d feel better if he did the injections. I said yes, but if he’d talk Newbie through one, I’d be OK with that.

I looked at Newbie and said, “Here’s my advice. Go S – L – O – W. Don’t attack my knee like it’s dinner.”

He turned 20 shades of red and I’m sure he was close to wetting himself, but god love him, he found the joint, injected the needle slowly, and it didn’t hurt much at all. My doctor did the other knee and all was well. Tonight, I’m walking without holding on to the furniture throughout my house.

Walking out of the doctor’s office, my stomach wasn’t hurting from the stress, my shoulders were relaxed, and I sang a Peter Frampton song all the way home. I was assertive. I told my doctor what I needed.

I took the road less traveled…and it made all the difference.

Elton John In A Stroller, Luca In A Box, and The Joints Ain’t What They Used To Be

My garden is popping out plants like the Duggers birthing children, the weather has been crazy warm, and I’ve been wrapping my head around a few new physical glitches – all in the course of a week.

Let’s break it down.

Easter

Had a fabulous time with the kids. (How old do your children have to be before you stop calling them kids?) Cassie, Matt, the g-babies, Carlene and Ben were here all day. Here’s what we did:

We played on the playground at Cook Forest, had an Easter egg hunt, played hopscotch, drank wine and Guinness, and learned gangsta gestures from my son-in-law from the ‘hood in New Castle *eyeroll*.

I made Cornish game hens (I added some rosemary), my favorite rice pilaf recipe ever (I added zucchini and used a cup of frozen peas instead of broccoli because I wasn’t in the mood to clean up broccoli specks off the counter), steamed asparagus, spicy carrots and tried a new roll recipe that would have been spectacular instead of merely really good if I’d added the butter instead of forgetting it after melting it in the microwave and finding it five hours later.

So where’s Luca, you ask? We didn’t get many photos of the little dude on Easter (for which my mother chastised me mercilessly), but check him out in the next segment.

Playing at Grammy’s

Cassie had a haircut appointment Monday so Claire stayed overnight on Easter and Cassie and Luca returned the next day. We went to the stadium for powerwalking/running/soccer-playing/ab-work-in-the-grass/stair-climbing fun. That’s Claire and me on the right. I was teaching her the finer points of speed walking. She chose to run.

Claire calls her sunglasses her movie star glasses. So fancy. I think Elton John would approve of the shades.

Luca started walking last weekend. He’s not quite 11 months old and he’s a tiny little bugger, but he gets around. Loves to crawl in boxes. Here he is in Grammy’s toy box (yes, I know it’s a diaper box, but it gets the job done).

It Takes a Village

My left knee and left shoulder have been giving me a few problems lately. I went to see my doctor Tuesday and she sent me for x-rays. I also had appointments with my chiropractor and physical therapist, so I got everyone up to speed.

At x-ray, a student intern was working with the x-ray tech. The tech was instructing her on the best way to take my knee films. Apparently I am unique. Not unique in that my knees are all screwed up. Unique in that I’m not overweight.

“Most of our patients are larger,” she told the intern. “This lady is very flexible so she’s easier to move around.” She instructed her for 10 minutes, using the words “most patients” so many times I lost count. God, I really hope this trend turns around soon.

This morning, my PT went to the hospital and read the x-rays with the radiologist (they play racquetball together) and he called me with some preliminary results.

(Quick side story: A year ago when I met PT Seth, he took one look at my right knee and said, “Wow, I’d LOVE to see that in an x-ray.” (I guess the way to a PT’s heart is through a funky looking joint.) Yesterday, the techs took a film of both my knees for comparison, so afterwards I went back to the PT building and wrote Seth a note: “You’re gonna love this. They took a film of my right knee. When you read my shoulder film tomorrow, give the knee a look-see.” He was (sadly) impressed.)

The radiologist was all “Oh. My. God!” about my right knee, just as Seth suspected he would be. Radiologist said I was looking at a knee replacement “in the very near future.” Seth told him nope, that I was hanging on to it because nothing had changed in it for a very long time. Anyway, it’s the left knee I’m having the problem with at the moment, namely due to the enlargement of a cyst on the upper outside part of the knee. It’s called an intra-articular cyst and the radiologist said it could probably be excised, although it could be tricky given it’s under my quads and IT band. Tricky shmicky. I’m pumped to know that at least something can be done short of knee replacement.

I’ll take my film (and probably MRI results) to a new knee doctor in Pittsburgh in three weeks. I’ll let you know what the doc says and if (most likely “when”) surgery is scheduled.

On to my shoulder. I’ll probably need an MRI to know more, but the x-ray shows chronic inflammation of the tendons. The radiologist told Seth that PT will help with that. Seth will dig out his magic box of tricks and said my doctor will most likely recommend iontophorosis with dexamethasone . I’ll have to go to PT 3x a week for 3 weeks, but if it will reduce the inflammation and pain, I’m there. Hopefully I’ll start treatment next week.

It takes a village to keep my joints working, but most importantly, it takes ME. I need to keep being proactive with my care, educated in what’s going on and what every course of treatment means, and – especially – eat responsibly and exercise. I get accused often of being “too rigid” with my diet. But you know what? Every pound added to your frame adds six pounds of pressure to your knees. I need to give my body its best shot at recovery and good health, and so even though I indulge a little once in awhile, more than ever I’m dedicated to maintaining my weight.

All in all, I’m on top of the world. Just like the first part of the Cheap Trick song, which happened to play on my way home from all the appointments yesterday. I’m adopting it as my theme song. Remind me of this when I’m bitching and moaning in a month after I’ve had surgery, OK?

But seriously. I have a great family and a cadre of awesome medical professionals to help me through this. I especially love that I have this space to write in and communicate with people who get it. You get weight and weight loss and all the stuff that goes with it. Thank you for reading and listening.

I dedicate this song to all of you who are losing and maintaining weight. Never forget how hard you are working.

You’re on top of the world
On top of the world and you can’t get any higher
You’re on top of the world, on top of the world tonight


It wasn’t easy, it was hard as hell
You didn’t get luck in a wishin’ well
Never worked so hard, had so much pain
Wouldn’t change for anything

The Mojo's Back In Town

I found my mojo! I looked all winter for it, only to discover I’d left it at the university track back in October. Whew! I thought it was lost forever.

I took my old winter body out for a test drive this morning because the temperature was already 59 degrees when I woke up at 6:30. Perfect weather for a “track day.”

Ate a banana and drank a cup of green chai tea while Larry pumped up the tires on my bike. Slapped on the headphones and turned on my iPod – “Maneater” by Nelly Furtado. Awesome. Hopped on my bike and took off.

The first bike ride of the season is always the sweetest. While subsequent bike rides can be really good, the first one reminds you why you love it so much. It’s the smell of the air and the feel of the wind and how it plays on your body and courses through your ears and nose and mouth. To quote Foreigner, it feels like the first time.

Me and my bike in April 2007, out for the first time ever.

I took Main Street to the track and rode a few laps around the perimeter. I recognized a few people running and walking, people I haven’t seen for months who were no doubt shaking out their winter cobwebs, too. I parked the bike and climbed the stadium stairs for four sets. Set off on a 20-minute power walk around the track and managed to do a 12-minute mile (with the help of a the Black Eyed Peas). I still got it!

Did another four sets on the stairs and got back on my bike. My thighs protested a little, but I took my normal route home with its small hills and challenges and got up to 19.5 mph on the last street before home while Michael Jackson sang, “Let’s dance, let’s shout, shake your body down to the ground…” I brought the energy inside and did 30 minutes of strength training and ab work. Yikes! I feel a Howard Dean scream welling inside!

My body took a hit over the winter with advancing arthritis, so I was a little nervous about this test drive. But wow…I’m so glad I took that chance. I am really relieved to know I can still do a track day. The feelings of freedom and aliveness that come from riding my bike and walking outdoors – feelings that laid dormant all winter – came back just as reliably as spring.

With my mojo home again and my body and mind in sync, it’s time for a well deserved oatmeal pancake and egg-white omelet. Here’s to your mojo, wherever it may be.