Archive | November 2017

Blinded Me With Science

Nov30

 

One of the cornerstones I have managed to drift away from over the past four years of my effort to improve my health is the simple idea of being a scientist on my own behalf.

I haven’t totally strayed from that concept; I know what has worked for my body in the past. I know how my body reacts to certain things. And I try to keep up with the latest information out there as it relates to my own particular set of circumstances.

For all the work I’ve done, I tend to get a bit defensive if someone suggests I should be doing something different, but when that advice came from a medical professional, I paid a bit more attention — and, albeit a bit begrudgingly, I decided that it wouldn’t hurt me to get back to embracing science. After all, the information I was getting was from someone I respect as a scientist, and he hasn’t led me wrong in the past.

He recommended a book, and I’ve been reading it. As a scientist on my own behalf, I’ve found myself agreeing with much of what’s been said. Enough so that I actually bought the second book from the same author, and I read a little bit each day, in hopes that this information might just be the key to breaking my weight loss plateau.

I’m gonna science the crap out of my body.

I’m not trying to tease you, but I’m not going to share the name of the book here; I may, in the future, if my own experiences in adapting my journey are successful.

I will share, however, some of the information that had me nodding in agreement; information that many experts have claimed as gospel, but has not worked for me, personally.

For instance — not all calories are the same. I have been convinced of this for a long time; calorie restriction, by itself, is not an effective method for weight loss, regardless of the common theme of “eat less, move more”. It’s just not that simple. What those calories consist of, and how my particular set of circumstances uses those calories, is of the utmost importance. This is universally true, and there are a number of authentic scientific studies that have backed up this idea, but they’re not the popular ones that support whatever the diet industry is trying to sell at the moment.

Another example: all diets eventually fail. Every diet out there will work — to a point — but many rely on basal metabolic rate (BMR) to stay the same, but it doesn’t. We’re evolved beings, but we’ve evolved for survival, and lowering food intake makes our bodies conserve resources when we’re hoping to expend them. Adding exercise makes no difference to this.

Related to this, large-scale studies have shown that the success rate of taking off weight and keeping it off, long-term, is very small; less than 1%, in fact. In 1995, no state had above a 20% obesity rate; in 2015, no state had below a 20% obesity rate. Times have changed, and in many ways, easy commercialism has added to our collective weight issues.

Knowing things like this might make anyone want to just trash their diet and jump off it for good. But not me. There are methods included that make sense, and it’s a small adaptation of what I’m currently doing, so I’m giving it a try. Even a 1% chance is enough of a chance for me to stick it out — because going back to where I was, yet again, simply is not an option I’m willing to consider.

That 1% chance is exactly why I’m writing this, today. All of us, in some way, can be exceptions to the rule; all of us are among the 1% of the population that has a certain characteristic, whether it’s a hobby, a career choice, a physical characteristic. For instance, 1-2% of the population has red hair, but just about all of us know someone with red hair. Short of coloring my hair (shhhhh!), I can’t change that percentage, but hobbies and careers are chosen, regardless of rarity, and physical characteristics, like weight, can be changed.

Being in the 1% — that’s my goal, and I will remain a scientist on my own behalf until that goal is achieved.

 

Thank You

Nov24

 

I’m thankful for a lot of things this season — and these years I’ve spent investing in my health.

I’m thankful for being able to walk. Not too long ago, I could only walk with a great deal of pain. If I needed to walk any distance, my husband pushed me in a portable wheelchair. Even when I got better, I walked with a cane. I’m thankful, now, for being able to walk without assistance, and for fair distances — I don’t walk marathons, but I can cope like a fairly normal person.

No, really. Thank you!

I’m thankful for feeling so much better than I used to feel. I don’t live my days in pain; not anymore. Nor do I live them in depression, feeling bad that I have not achieved the things I set out to do. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I used to feel for myself, feeling fat and unloved, and yet powerless to change those feelings.

I’m thankful for being able to eat a Thanksgiving meal (or two, as the case may be, because Friday is Friendsgiving!) and knowing that I can, with confidence, return to where I was before eating large meals. I know now that what I do in the short term matters less than what I do in the long term — I can, on occasion, enjoy a meal as a treat. I may pay the consequences, but I know what they are before making the decision.

I’m thankful for my friends who have helped me over the numerous hurdles, even when I have resisted their advice. That includes my orthopedic surgeon. I’ve been studying information he’s given me and it makes a ton of sense. It’s never too late to adjust the journey. Sometimes you just have to take a different route than what you planned on, and it works out.

And finally, I’m thankful for the world that’s opened up to me since committing to change. My life is far different than it was when I started this journey, and it’s definitely more joyful and satisfying. Taking this journey has meant endless discovery; not only in figuring out who I am, now, but in becoming more me than I have been in a very long time. Being authentically me is the best gift I can ever give myself, and I am grateful to those of you who have been on this journey with me. Thanks for being there.

 

I Hope You Dance

Nov17

 

It’s no secret, by now, that my weight loss has been at a plateau for a good six months. And six months can seem like an eternity.

I know there are likely a certain number of my readers that aren’t interested in my blogs unless I’m talking specifically about having lost more weight; everyone loves a success story. We’re drawn to them like moths to light. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t publicly post photos of my progress; on the Internet, there are plenty who would steal progress photos to misrepresent a product or diet. There are even more who would take the opportunity to use a photo of an obese woman to scorn or mock.

(Don’t worry. When I feel I am at a point in my journey where it’s appropriate, I’ll post more than headshots.)

There’s also a certain number of folks who think that if you’re on a weight loss journey and your loss isn’t at a constant, you’re a failure. And frankly, while waltzing across a six-month plateau, I get the niggling feeling at times that I may not be able to progress past where I am at this moment.

Most of actual steps, not stunt steps.

Sure, that concerns me, but not enough to throw my hands up in the air and just say screw it and go back to my old habits. Every day is a choice, and choosing to willingly go backward is the wrong choice. Instead, I’m learning more about my body, with the determination to continue moving forward.

In my journey, weight loss is only part of the story, not the whole story. A journey toward better health must be comprehensive; sure, I’d love to look great in a dress, but more importantly, I want to feel good, move with confidence, improve my lifestyle, discover new capabilities, and live life to my fullest. It’s easy to let the scale be the only focus, at times; and while it’s important to include that as one of the indicators of moving in the right direction, it is, by far, not the most important.

This weekend, I’m on an annual writer’s retreat with a dear friend. (*waves to dear friend!*) The cabin we stay in every year is at the bottom of a hill, directly on the lake; the porch is on stilts over the water. Both of us have to carry our things down a long series of steps to get to the cabin.

The first year I came here, I really struggled with those steps. It took me forever to go up and down them. Imagine carrying a couple bags of concrete, and that’s what I felt like — without even carrying my things. Moving forward a couple years to last year, I was extremely proud of the progress I’d made in handling those steps.

And then there’s this year. Last week, I injured my knee, and it took the better part of a week for it to return to a normal enough state for me to feel confident enough to take the steps. My friend even offered (okay, insisted) that she carry my things down for me; she’s much more fit than I am. But I beat her to the cabin, and I decided I’d give the steps a try.

Mind you, because of variances in my weight at the moment, I’m roughly 15 pounds less in weight than I was this time last year.  (I’ve weighed less.) But I’ve been walking, and I really hadn’t realized how much of a difference that made until I took the steps. Down with a load; no problems. Up, towing an empty cooler on wheels (hey, yes, I cheated a bit, thanks to my hubby for the tip), no problems; just perhaps a 30 second catch-my-breath moment halfway up to the parking lot. Second trip down, no big deal. Trip back up with my friend to go to dinner later? All the way to the top with no stops, somewhat out of breath.

Last year, it took me the better part of an hour to fetch everything, including breaks to rest. I didn’t need to do that this time, and I also took fewer trips. I certainly wasn’t Rocky Balboa running the streets of Philly (I hope I have that movie reference right!), but my fitness level this year far exceeds even last year. And that matters — a lot.

I still harbor thoughts of taking myself out of things because of perceived discomfort or the possibility of not being able to do something, but I’m more of a risk taker these days. These may be small risks in the light of what normal people do on a daily basis, but the more I do them, the more they become my normal. It is, as they say in the diet world, a huge non-scale victory (NSV).

As a follow-up to last week, I’m happy to report that I’m moving forward with plans to increase my ability to walk. I’m breaking in a new brace that will hopefully extend my abilities while stabilizing my knee in the interim between now and surgery. While I’m not crazy about having to use another brace, since this is my third one, I’m willing to do what it takes to get me further to my goals.

I’m not gonna sit it out. I’m gonna dance.

 

Fighter

Nov9

 

Folks on Facebook are familiar with the term Throwback Thursday, where people post pics from their past. It’s usually meant in fun.

I had a Fallback Wednesday, and it wasn’t a fun one. Nor was it on Facebook.

It was in my own back yard, during my morning walk with Bonnie, my dog. We have a normal path we take before breakfast; her, so she can do her morning thing. Me, to put in a few steps before breakfast. We’re fully into fall weather, now; it was brisk out, first thing in the morning, with plenty of newly fallen leaves to kick through — which is what I inadvertently did.

Stunt leaves that may or may not look like leaves in my yard.

It wasn’t anything more than nudging a stick with my toe in passing, but that’s all it took to push my knee out of alignment. When that happens, I can’t straighten my knee and I can’t put weight on it. To complicate things further, I was wearing a new brace that had partially slid out of place (and might have contributed a bit). So there I was, standing on one leg like a ticked off flamingo, leash in hand with a dog ready to take on the rest of our walk, 50 feet from the door.

It might as well have been 50 miles at that moment.

I haven’t had this happen, lately, except for a couple little minor skirmishes. I had convinced myself that building muscle around my knees has helped, as well as losing close to 150 pounds. And they have; the number of incidents of my knee locking up like this has gone down considerably, and it had been many months since I’d dealt with even the hint of it, so this caught me completely off-guard. I managed to hobble into the house, but between aggravating it and not being able to straighten it for several hours, I’ve been dealing with a throwback in time of a kind that I’m certainly not happy about in the least.

I’ve been pretty happy with my progress, doing away with having to use a travel wheelchair, and then a cane, and lately, walking around 6500 steps a day. It took one tiny incident to send me backward to a time when I couldn’t hobble around my own house without some sort of mobility assistance. Add to this, my surgery date has been kicked back six months. Maybe my knee knows I’m going to evict it.

After considerable pain and feeling sorry for myself, I realized that this was my lot every single day just a couple of years ago — and it wasn’t so long ago that I was dependent on a cane just to get around the house, dealt with debilitating pain to the point that I had to take breaks to sit down just to get through washing dishes by hand, and had developed all sorts of ways to get by because of my knees.

Mind you, it’s on the mend, now. I still need to take it easy for a few more days, by the feel of things, but the difference between then and now is huge. I am both physically and mentally stronger than I was just a couple years ago. I laid down to put my knee up, after taking some heavy duty pain reliever, and then got mad for having to do it. I don’t want to be waylaid, when even a couple of years ago, having the excuse to put my feet up for a few days was a welcome thing. Now, it frustrates the hell out of me.

I suppose that’s a good thing, right? It’s a reality check to remember a time when every day brought me pain and difficulty. Now, it’s a hiccup, not a way of life. I just made the commitment last week to get a new brace to support my knee so I can increase my steps — and then this? Oh, nope! I’m not going to let this sideline me. I will continue to fight with everything I’ve got.

 

PS: Just to be clear, it’s not the fault of the brace, although having it move on me while I walked may have contributed. I have experience with braces, so understand the issues at hand.

 

Play By The Rules

Nov3

 

Over recent weeks, I’ve been dealing with one of the biggest challenges I’ve met since starting to lose weight. Not just for this time — for any time.

If you’ve been reading along, you know I was sent home from my orthopedic surgeon’s office with instructions to lose 20 to 25 pounds. That was roughly six weeks ago, and at that time, I managed to get them to pencil in a surgery date in December, with the agreement that I’d lose the weight. I was pretty angry after that appointment because I felt like I hadn’t been heard. On the advice of friends who are also medical professionals, I rescheduled the checkup to make sure I met with the actual surgeon. And that appointment was on Wednesday.

There’s bad news, and there’s good news — of a sort. First, the bad news: I was turned away yet again. I lost 16 pounds between the appointments but was sent home with the instructions to lose 20 to 25 more pounds. I fought my case; I showed my progress photos of 140 pounds lost, I lined out the previous four years of progress I’ve made, I pointed out that it’s quite likely at least 15 pounds of the weight I currently carry is excess skin.

I’d rather be a pirate and make my own rules.

But it didn’t make a difference: their goal, pure and simple, is to be below a BMI of 40. I’m hovering just above it. I have until February 2, now, to get below that mark. If I meet it by then, I’ll have surgery in early summer.

Just as an aside, I think BMI is a convenient construct of insurance companies, and I wouldn’t doubt it a bit if my insurance company has a hand in this; I’ve never been a fan of insurance companies dictating health care. Those decisions should be between my doctor and me. Even the creator of BMI stated that he thought it was too general a rule, but at the time, it was at least a consistent measure. And apparently, being over a BMI of 40 brings with it notable increases in health risk.

I understand that. With a few exceptions, the more weight we carry, the more health issues we end up with. I’m talking averages — not specific cases — but I totally disagree with the (insurance-driven?) notion that those risk factors suddenly drop off once we pass a magical number. No, risk factors are on a sliding scale, not a drop-off. While I am more than willing to embrace the idea that my risks were far greater when I was at my original weight, I don’t truly believe that the risk factors are all that different for me at my current BMI and the mere two points I am away from their magic number.

Nonetheless — my surgeon will not do a total knee replacement for me until I lose even more weight, no matter what evidence I was able to present. What stands between me and knee surgery is an illogical (and mathematically rather than biologically based) number devised by a mathematician in the 1830’s, before The Alamo fell. For all our technology, we cling to this outdated and unreliable system of measurement. Regardless, I’m stuck and my choices are to abide by it or keeping living with debilitating knee pain.

The good news? I was heard, at least. I was treated with kindness and respect. I was listened to. I was given options. Not all of them are viable or preferable, but if I want this particular surgeon to perform my knee surgery, I have to go by his requirements — and I do want that. He did talk with me about my biggest concern: that I am at an impasse with my weight and my ability to exercise, so asking me to lose more weight seems nearly insurmountable.

He made some recommendations that I am considering, and I was also fitted with (yet another) knee brace that may help me get a few more steps a day without as much pain, and therefore, burn a few more calories.

I have to fight for this. I refuse to do anything else than fight; giving up never got me anywhere. I suppose on some level, I’m angry because I felt I was ready and I was not prepared to hear otherwise, but what I have done to this point is not enough. Imagine that — losing close to 150 pounds isn’t good enough. Not for this.

For the first time, I’m being pushed to change when I stubbornly want to remain on my current path, and it’s a hard thing to internalize. To this point, the choice has been mine; but now, if I want to achieve what I believe is the next step in pushing my health forward, I have to play by someone else’s rules.

I’ll do what needs to be done. I don’t like being told no.