Fibro mystery solved!

Apparently, researchers have solved the mystery that is fibromyalgia, revealing that the main source of pain stems from excess blood vessels in the hand.  I've printed the article and taken a copy to my physiotherapist; a copy will be given to my doctor tomorrow when I see her (for my third and final Synvisc injection); and I'll give my massage therapist a copy next week.

Fibromyalgia Pain Trigger Points

Fibromyalgia is diagnosed when pain is confirmed in at least eleven of the eighteen trigger points shown in the above photo.  I test positive for pain in all of the identified points (and the ankles too).

Amazing to think that so much pain can emanate from the hands, but if true, it surely explains a lot about the difficulty I've had with my hands over the years.  And it just might explain the more recent phenomenon of my "losing another finger" with each fibro flare-up.

Now that they've finally unlocked the mystery of fibro, no telling how much longer we'll have to wait for the "cure" to come.

That's the ticket!

Happy Birthday to my "Other Daughter"

I revealed this secret a few years ago on this date.

Besides my little chickadee, there is an "other daughter" in my life.

And today, she is celebrating her 29th birthday.

My other daughter is the youngest of three children who were actually born to my good friend, LC (good way to "have your children" don't you think?).

From the time this child was born, she didn't much differentiate between her mother and me when it came to her care, so close were our families.

We lived just a few doors down from each other in the years leading up to her birth.  Her older brothers and my little chickadee conspired to bring their mothers together in friendship.

And it worked -- a little too well for their liking, as it turns out.

So by the time her only daughter was born, LC and I were already tight (the two older boys were in my care the night their baby sister arrived).

And that baby was having sleep-overs at my home well before her first birthday.

In fact, it was not unusual for her to fall asleep with her Mom, and wake up with me.

And it didn't faze her one bit.

Hence, I became known as her "other Mother" and she my "other daughter."

Suffice to say, she holds a very special place in my heart.

So, my other daughter, enjoy your day today.

Love you lots.

(PS:  Next year is the BIG 30!

You're welcome.)

So I'm "not allergic" huh?

It's been a busy week.

I was out of the house all day Tuesday.

Had to take the laptop into the shop.  (Which meant visiting with my favourite boys -- always a joy!)  They fixed the problem on the spot -- without charge! -- and sent me home a happy camper once again.  Love those guys to pieces!

Then I had my weekly physio session.  That's always a bright spot in my day.  I'll sooooo regret when she finally retires.  (She tells me that won't be any time soon, but she and her husband -- who are my age -- seem to be enjoying travel outside the country a little too much for my liking.)

From physio, I had to visit my audiologist for my annual hearing test.  No change.  (Well, that was a change!)    We discussed upgrade options, should I decide to go that route, since my current hearing aids are five years old this year and technology has come a long way in the intervening years.  I'll think on it.

Then I had to see my ENT doctor (same office, thank God!) for my routine vacuuming of the ears.  Only my left ear needed attention this visit, and he didn't need to resort to the vacuum.  Double phew!

Finally, at the height of rush-hour traffic, I headed home.  Got here just on time for our politics show, and John dutifully greeted me at the top of the stairs with my glass of wine.  So sweet.

Yesterday was my massage day, but at the clinic.  We've had to switch the schedule a bit because my Synvisc injections.  So instead of her coming to me on Thursdays, I've been going to her on Wednesdays.

Then late yesterday afternoon, I went into some kind of allergic response, reacting to something -- I know not what. 

Anyway, the sneezing, runny nose and watering eyes continued all evening.   In the middle of the night I woke up coughing.  Non-stop coughing.  Classic asthma attack.  Dug out the puffer, calmed my lungs down, and went back to sleep.

What the hell's up with that?????????

Clearly, I'm reacting to something.  But since the allergist told me last week that I am "not allergic," it makes the event -- or his findings -- all the more suspect. (The runny nose and watery eyes persist today.) 

I'll be seeing my doctor this afternoon for Round #2 of the Synvisc injections in my knees, and I'll tell her about last night while she's torturing me.  See what she has to offer about my "not being allergic."

Once again, I'm facing 48 hours of enforced "off my feet" time following those injections.  And this time, I don't have a good book in which to get lost.

*Sigh*

I made it!

I survived round one of the Synvisc injections.

John claims that I didn't stay down nearly as much as I should have.

It is my contention that, from time to time, I have to move from point A to point B.  That's just life.  And whilst I'm moving between points, I might just as well do for myself en route.  So that's what I did.

I was never "up" for more than ten minutes at a time though.  My knees wouldn't allow it.  They announced loud and clear that I was approaching the time limit too.

By last evening, once the 48 hours had been met, I wanted to be on my feet constantly.  Just wanted to be moving.  My body was itching to "go."

I hadn't slept well the night before and I'm quite sure it was because of the lack of activity.  I've really come to enjoy my time on the treadmill and obviously my body needs it.

My doctor said I could start again on the treadmill today, but not as fast and not as long.  I'm to build up to 20 minutes again.  So by the time I get back up to 20 minutes, I'll be getting the second injections, and have to stop for two days again.  Then I'll have to build up to the 20 minutes again.  Then it's on to round three.

I guess I'll simply have to accept that I won't be getting my usual exercise for the next two weeks and hope that I can maintain my weight loss effort by other means.

Oh dear.  I had so wanted to be down another ten pounds by mid-July!

Synvisc Injections #1

OMG that hurt!

We did the left knee first, and it wasn't quite as painful as I remember last year's injections being.  (I took a codeine contin an hour before the appointment so that might have helped.)

Then it was on to the right knee.

The first attempt, on the outside of the knee, failed.  The doctor couldn't find her way between bone.

Over to the inside.  Still couldn't find her way between bone.

Back to the outside of the knee to try a different entry point.  If the third attempt didn't work, she was going to go find the doctor who gave me the shots last year to ask her to try.  Fortunately, the third time was the charm.  And by then, it didn't hurt at all (the three attempts at entry had been that tortuous).

The post injection pain has not been too bad at all.

I iced both knees last evening, when they were quite uncomfortable.

This morning they are just marginally sore and I have iced them again.

But here I am, ensconced on the sofa in the living room -- where I will have to "live" until 4:00 pm tomorrow.

Only two more rounds to go, on each of the next two Thursdays.

Short term pain and inconvenience, for long term gain.

My Visit with the Allergist

Well, I saw the allergist yesterday about Aspirin desensitization.  Of course, he had a myriad of questions for me, some of which I couldn't answer.  (What all medications have you tried for your arthritis?  I remembered Naproxen, and Celebrex, to name two.  For the life of me I couldn't remember all the others that have been tried over the years.)

I explained that for the most part, the only analgesics I can tolerate are acetaminophen (Tylenol) and codeine.   Aspirin in particular (and several other analgesics) cause disorientation and vomiting.  Anything with anti-inflammatory properties cause me asthmatic distress. Naturally, I never continued taking anything beyond the initial negative response, so I couldn't tell him if I would have developed more serious reactions (swelling of the throat, lips, tongue -- all of which could be possible if the drug were continued).

He was interested to hear about the time my massage therapist used an oil on me that had anti-inflammatory benefits and I broke out in hives.  Yet I am using Voltaren gel (an anti-inflammatory) without incident on my hips every night.  Go figure!

Anyway, he agreed that I could benefit from Aspirin desensitization but he would not attempt it in his office.  It would have to be done in hospital and he is not in the hospital very frequently.  It happens that he will be there on June 30th if I was available and wanted to do it then.

Oops.  No can do.  I can't have this done before July 12th because I'm having a cortisone injection in my hip joint on that date and I can't be on aspirin or any anti-inflammatory for a week prior to the shot.

So he offered to find a colleague who could do the procedure for me.

His first choice could see me in a year.  That just won't do.  He thinks this should be done sooner rather than later.

His next attempt was successful.  I will see a different allergist on August 19th (but I will have to be assessed again) and hopefully I will have the procedure done shortly thereafter.

He also did a scratch test on me to see what I'm allergic to.

Nothing!  What a hoot.

He tested me for trees, grasses, ragweed, pollen. And I'm not allergic to any of them.

Wow.  I sure used to be!  As recently as five years ago I was allergic to all that and more.

"These things change over the years," he said.

He explained that my year-round stuffy nose is called "non-allergic rhinitis."  It is caused from having a thin lining of the nose which is sensitive to temperature, barometric pressure, strong scents such as perfumes, etc. (Years ago, I was told I had "allergic rhinitis.")

He prescribed a nasal spray which I am to use once a day.  He assured me that I'll find I can breathe much easier once I'm using the spray.

I'm to see him again on August 28th (just because he likes me).

Off to the big city today

So I cancelled yesterday's physio session because I have to go into the big city today and I couldn't face two consecutive days of round trips.  (Overnight at my little chickadee's would not have worked this time because I would have had too much down time between appointments.)

Anyway, today I see the allergist to discuss Aspirin desensitization.  If it is something we can try -- and it's actually successful -- that would be a real boon for me because I would finally be able to take something for this damned arthritis!

Following that appointment, I'll come back to this neck of the woods and go to my massage therapist's clinic for a session with her (rather than her coming to me tomorrow).  We had to make a change to my massage schedule for the next three weeks because I'm starting the Synvisc shots in my knees tomorrow.  Didn't seem to make sense to have a massage and get all mellow, then follow it up with those very painful injections an hour later!  So massage it is on Wednesdays (but at the clinic because she can't come to me on Wednesdays), but just for a couple of weeks!

By July, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming!

The saga of my hands

This is getting tiresome.

Really it is.

Not to mention painful.

Last evening, for no apparent reason, my "mousing" finger (index finger of my right hand) decided to flare up again.

It's swollen, and angry, and screams in agony if it's flexed even slightly.

Which makes many day-to-day functions rather difficult, to say the least. Because that digit is used for many chores besides mousing.

Really it is.

What I don't get is -- when these flare-ups happen, why just one finger?  The rest of my hand is fine.  Well, as fine as my hands ever are.  Both hands are swollen (had to remove my wedding band again this morning), but they're not painful.

Other than that one finger.

Go figure.

There's just no rhyme nor reason to what ails me from one day to the next!

Ah shucks ...

I don't not got nothin' to say.

I honestly can't think of anything about which to blog.

So we'll have to leave things as empty as my head!

Sorry 'bout that folks.

Dammit, I did it again!

Last evening, I was super fatigued at supper time.

I was also feeling extremely "stressed" but couldn't identify any particular cause.

Then at bedtime, for some reason I went looking for my mid-day pill holder.

Oops.  It was still in my purse.

Where it had been living since Tuesday morning when I had to be at my final "fat class" for 9:30 am.  That class went until 11:00 am and my physio was at 1:00 pm in the city.  I wasn't going to come home between sessions so I threw my pill case into my purse, plan being to take the meds when I had my "lunch."

Yeh right.  I had my lunch (an Ensure) but forgot to take those pills.

And when I got home later that afternoon, I again forgot to take the pill case out of my purse.

There the case sat until last evening when for whatever reason I went looking for it.

That meant that I had missed my mid-day dose of meds on three consecutive days.

Not good!

Fast forward to this morning.

I was leaving the house at 10:00 am to go bottle a much-needed batch of wine.  Directly from there I was heading off to lunch with my Angel.

Once again, I threw the pill case into my purse.  Surely, I'd remember to take the pills this time!

You guessed it.

I just now remembered them.

At least today, I took the damned things!

At 4:30 pm.

Better late than never.

I did it. I did it!

I passed my "fat class."

Phew!

I am so glad that part of my life is over, because that's seven mornings I'll never get back!

They did verify my ten pound weight loss though, so I was glad to get that confirmation.

Now, I'll simply keep doing what I'm doing until I take off a further ten pounds so I can book my tummy tuck!

Perhaps by Christmas time, I'll be slim and svelte (and all recovered from the surgery).

This heat and my weight loss (or gain?)

So, earlier this week I hit the 10 pound weight loss mark.

I was so proud of  myself.

Fully a week ahead of schedule!

Then yesterday happened.

Ooops.

Up two pounds.

What the heck is going on?

I realize that, as a woman, my weight will fluctuate from one day to the next, but by two pounds?

Then it hit me.

It's been hot as hades around here of late. Humidity has to be up over 100%.

The nights have been unbearably hot.  And when that happens, I suffer.  Big time.

So perhaps, in spite of all the excessive sweating I'm doing, I'm also retaining water -- hence the weight gain?

I ran the idea by my little chickadee and she thought that one should weigh less if one is sweating more.  Sounds good.  But what about all the excess fluid one retains in high humidity -- how else do you explain the swelling?

So I googled it.  And very quickly found two references that explained the phenomenon.  Without going into all the scientific explanation that was provided, here's the bottom line:

"The net effect is an increase in both the blood volume and total body water content.  This effect becomes especially pronounced during the summertime, when body weight will jump up several pounds due to increased water content."

So there you have it.
My weight is higher due to this damned weather.
That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it!

If only!

Wish that that were the case.

My body would appear to be a particularly attractive source of nutrients for mosquitoes.

In fact, I'm a very good mosquito repellent to keep near you -- they won't bother you one bit if I'm around!

Already this season, I've lost count of the number of bites I've accumulated.

So surely if they sucked fat, rather than blood, I'd not need to worry about my weight at all!

Thank God it's Morning!

Wow, that was a long night! Am I ever glad it's over.

My dreams were filled with scenarios to explain the degree of pain I was experiencing. As I came to consciousness for the umpteenth time this morning, my brain was trying to rationalize some explanation for my increased discomfort.

Lack of physio session last week?  Sure hope not, because I don't have a session this week again.  (Therapist is still on holiday!)  If that is the cause, I opined, does that mean that ten days is the most my body can tolerate without a treatment?  Possible, I guessed.

And then it hit me.

Last week, I upped my treadmill time from 20 minutes to 25 minutes. One wouldn't think that should make a great deal of difference but I wanted to step up my weight loss chances.

When I reached the 20 minute mark on the treadmill, my physiotherapist had advised me not to exceed that time --  she was concerned that my hips could not tolerate longer than that.

Yesterday marked five consecutive days at 25 minutes each.

Today, I will return to 20 minutes, and leave it at that here on after.  (That of course assumes that I will be able to do any time on the treadmill today.)

I guess I should listen to my physiotherapist.

She has proven time and again that she knows of what she speaks!

Weigh-in Day

Ouch!

It's weigh-in day and I'm not liking what the scale has to say today. It's better than what it's been saying all week, mind you.

I was getting really worried there, when since the gun club dinner on Saturday evening my weight has been as much as four pounds heavier than it had been last weigh-in day.

This morning, I'm only a quarter of a pound heavier than last week.

So I guess I should be content with the fact that I'm essentially "holding."

I'd have preferred to see a loss, but ...

Better luck next week.

I really want to see a ten pound loss by the end of my fat classes on June 4th.  My weigh-in will be on June 6th.

Sure hope I can pull it off.

Fat Class Tuesday

Today is my "Fat Class" day.

I don't have to go into the big city for physio because my therapist is on holiday in Turkey for two weeks!  Imagine.  I mean, really.  A therapist taking holidays. The nerve!  

Seriously though, I'll miss the sessions with her but at least it gets me off the hook for making that round trip this week and next.

And it's just as well I tell you.  After the "down" day I had this past Saturday, I had a wipe out day on Sunday.  Slept practically all day long.  Had three naps throughout the day and still went to bed for the night fairly early.  Didn't even do my treadmill or stretching or weights that day.  Not at all in character for me.  

Yesterday was another lazy day but I first got in all my exercising.

I'm still not feeling particularly energetic but no "illness" has surfaced either.

Here it is, 8:45 am and I've had breakfast; I'm ready to go to my "fat class" but I'm not enthused about it.  I could just as easily stay home and do nothing (or take care of household chores).  Of course, it doesn't help that I'm bored to tears in these classes.  Only three more to go!

Normally, I would have already done my treadmill and stretches and weights by now.  But since I'll be coming home from the class (rather than heading into the big city for physio), I'll do that stuff later this morning.

Onward and upward ...

Oh dear this is a down day!

Well, I'm not sure what's up wirh me today but I'm certainly not up to snuff.

I had a good night's sleep, I thought.  Didn't get up until 6:00 am, although I do recall having wakened more than once.

Yet, here I am today, feeling weak as a kitten.

I did manage my usual 20 minutes on the treadmill, and I did my stretches.  But the weights were right out of the question.

No can do.

I've already had a brief nap (from which my little chickadee's phone call woke me) and I might take another one yet.

Later, I'll have to come alive, jump into the shower and get presentable.  It's dinner at John's gun club again tonight.

Until then, I'll loll about and watch my boys -- hopefully -- beat dem damn Yanks!

My doctor is a sweetheart!

I had a most interesting telephone call yesterday morning.

My doctor called me, out of the blue, and said she had thought of me the night before when she was reading an e-mail.  It had prompted her to do further research and now she was calling me to find out if I would be agreeable to what she was thinking would be a potentially beneficial line of treatment for me.

It's called "aspirin desensitisation" and it is a proven protocol to hopefully allow a patient who otherwise cannot tolerate aspirin to be able to take it and other NSAIDs.

Sounds good to me!  If it works, it could address my issue with my hips, my hands, my knees, my shoulders, etc.

So she's referring me to an allergist (who is also an internist) because she believes I should be monitored by a specialist for such an undertaking.

I couldn't disagree with that line of thinking.

While I had her on the phone, I explained that I had intended to call for an appointment because I want to start the Synvisc injections for my knees again.  I knew that she was not in the office on Fridays and I want to have them administered on successive Fridays.   (I have to stay off my feet for 48 hours after the injections.)

"No problem," she said, "the doctor who gave you the injections last year will be here on Fridays and I have no difficulty with you seeing her again for that purpose."

"OK, but I'll need a prescription for the stuff," I said.

"I'll fax it to the pharmacy right now," she replied.

And just like that, it's done.  All I have to do now is call to make the appointments for three consecutive Fridays to get the shots.
I'll do that this morning, to start the shots on Friday, May 31st. (I'm busy next Friday!)

You know you have a good doctor when ...


On another note, today is Thursday, and by now, you all know how much I looooooove Thursdays.
Now, I have another reason to love the day.
It's my weigh-in day.  And today, I'm down eight pounds!  Eight pounds I tell you!
Yee haw -- I'm on my way to getting that tummy tuck!

Perhaps I should hide better!

My weight continues to go down, ever so slowly.  But down it is going.

My waist has also shrunk by two inches since April 11th so I'm very pleased with that progress!

And it's true -- "I keep losing weight but it keeps finding me" -- because from one day to the next my weight is up and down like a yo-yo.

Thankfully, I only record the weight I register on a Thursday morning -- (my "starting weight" was recorded by the nurse on a Thursday) -- and it's always down on Thursdays.  

Phew!

As of last Thursday, I'm down 6.2 pounds.

Now my mission is to ensure that the weight loss continues, and that I lose it to somewhere where it can't find me again.

Happy Mothers' Day!

To all mothers everywhere, have a wonderful day.

To my little chickadee, thank you for making every day mother's day.

Is there any doubt that he looks like his mother?

To my striking young man, thank you for making the role of grandmother such a rewarding one (and for having that relationship with me).

And to my extended family, all of whom enrich the day that much more, thank you for making "stepmother" a pleasantly easy role to fill.

Love to all of you on Mother's Day and every day.

Shall I Abdicate?

This tickled my funny bone yesterday so I had to share.

It just so captures my state of mind of late!

Wow, it's been a while!

Oooooops!

Where does the time go?

May 10th already!!!!!!!!

Let's see now.  What ever has kept me so busy for the past almost two weeks, I wonder?

On Tuesday mornings, I now have my "Healthy You" Class.  I call them my "Fat Class" but that will be our secret!  I've come to resent the time those classes are taking out of my life I tell you.

I find the classes a complete bore!  Turns out I learned what I needed to know at my assessment visit with the nurse on April 11th.  Not a single iota of helpful new information has come to me as a result of the classes - yet.  But I will stick with them to the end because I committed to the seven-class series.  There's only four more to go. (That's four more Tuesday mornings taken out of my life!)

What is the "new information" that I learned from the nurse? (1) Eat three meals and two snacks every day; and (2) Eat within 60 minutes of getting up every day.

So, I've incorporated both those habits into my daily schedule.  But that's the only thing I'm doing differently. (Other than I switched from 2% to skim milk, again as a result of my meeting with the nurse -- not as a result of these classes.)

My weight loss has been slow, but steady and I will continue doing what I'm doing.  But again, I did the same thing a year and a half ago -- without going to class to do it.  And a year and half ago, when I successfully lost 20 pounds over two and half months, I wasn't doing the three meals and two snacks a day and I most certainly was not eating within 60 minutes of waking.

But, this is not the first time I've heard that one should not go the great lengths of time between eating that I used to be able to go.  My body is being trained to need food at regular intervals.  (I am nevertheless still being challenged to reach that 1200 calories a day threshold!)

On May 1st I had my appointment with the surgeon to review the results of my MRI.

Yeh, that was another complete waste of my time!

"Well, the tendons aren't torn.  That's good,"  he says.  "How's your right leg doing?"

"Have you ever had an injection in the right joint?" he asked. "Would you like another one?"

"I'll see you again in six months."

There was actually a two-way conversation that took place but that's the summary of what was discussed.  He had absolutely nothing to offer about the persistent pain in my bursa area.  He simply sent me on my way.

I came home and cleaned my porch to burn the anger-energy that needed to be expended.

The next morning I saw my doctor to discuss the visit with the surgeon and she took the time to actually review the MRI results with me.  She gave me a copy of the report and suggested that it would be good to take a copy to my physiotherapist, who could give me exercises to address the specific muscles that need work.  Perhaps it is the atrophied muscles that are a large cause of the pain (besides the role that fibromyalgia is playing in the whole scenario).

When my physiotherapist saw the report, she was delighted at its depth.  She eagerly came up with a series of exercises to give me and I have added them to my regimen.  Pretty soon, my entire day will be taken up with exercise if this keeps up!

Of course, yesterday was Thursday.

Massage day.

My otherwise "do nothing" day.

I love Thursdays!

Honey, I blew up the Acuball

I did.  I blew up my Acuball.

It's been a while since I used it.

I put it in the microwave for three minutes.
At two minutes and ten seconds -- POOF!
No more Acuball.

And a big mess in my microwave!
I've sent a message to my massage therapist asking her if she has any more (sure hope she does).

I need another one.
I'll remember that it's only supposed to be microwaved for one minute max!

Those damned Mack trucks

Woke up yesterday morning having been run over by at least a dozen mack trucks during the night.

My body felt extremely battered and bruised all day long.  Movement was excruciatingly painful.

I managed to do my treadmill in spite of the pain.  I forced myself to endure it because I hadn't done it the day before (just couldn't  face it).  Even getting into bed last night was difficult.

This morning, I found out exactly why those mack trucks had been so hard on me.

It seems that I hadn't been taking my mid-day meds all week.

Duhhhhhhhh.

On Tuesday I had to go to the Healthy You class for 9:30 am.  It went until 11:00 am and my physio was at 1:00 pm.  I wasn't going to come home between sessions so I threw my pill case into my purse, plan being to take the meds when I had my "lunch."

Yeh right.  I had my lunch (an Ensure) but forgot to take those pills.

And when I got home that afternoon, I forgot to take the pill case out of my purse.

There the case sat until this morning when it was time to refill it for the coming week.

Ooops.

Now I know that my body really does need that mid-day dose of Lyrica!

My "Healthy You" Class

Yesterday was the first of seven of the "Healthy You" classes for which my doctor conscripted me.

When we discussed her referring me to the dietitian for help with my weight issues, I had no idea that it would mean a "classroom" approach to learning how to live a healthy lifestyle.

Not a bad approach, mind you.  I just wasn't expecting it.

In any event, I'm committed to it now so onwards and upwards (well, hopefully, downwards).

Each session will be 90 minutes long and will cover a different topic addressing a non-diet approach to healthy living.

Yesterday's session was an introductory/orientation one.  They essentially told us what they are going to tell us over the next six weeks.

We had some opening giggles when one of the participants asked, "What, no donuts?"  Another asked where the fudge was.

It's a good group of people, all committed to learning how to live a healthier lifestyle, hopefully losing weight in the process.  I'm the only one of the nine participants who needs to learn to eat more frequently as opposed to the others who will need to learn to curb their appetites.

We will have 'homework' to do each week (not very taxing homework, but homework nonetheless) and our "challenges" remain in play (ie we continue to have to meet our challenges as they were identified prior to the first meeting).  So I guess my weekly challenge will be to maintain the good success I've had in meeting my challenges (eat three meals and two snacks every day, and eat within 90 minutes of waking).  Presumably, if I continue to follow that regimen, by the end of the seven weeks, it will be a normal eating pattern for me.

My biggest fear is that if my brain cottons on to that eating pattern, I will become like my husband and always be hungry.  I'm assured that it won't happen that way.  Only time will tell.  Since I believe a person should eat only when hungry, if I'm hungry all the time, I'll eat all the time unless my brain doesn't allow me to give in to the hunger pangs.  I'll cross that bridge when (and if) it happens.

I did have an "ah ha" moment yesterday.  One of the hand-outs referred to savouring your food, enjoying the smell, the taste, etc.  That's when it clicked for me.  One of the reasons I don't "get hungry" is because I don't smell the food, I don't taste the food.  Therefore, I don't enjoy the food.

I don't get lured by the smells of a kitchen.

My brain isn't bombarded by tempting aromas.

My taste buds aren't piqued.

My digestive juices don't get rumbling.

Not until long hours have passed without food.

Then my stomach gets loud and angry because nothing but water has been put into it for far too long.

So I eat.

That is what has to change.

We also discussed the phenomenon of how a lot of people get down to within about ten pounds of their goal weight and then they get stuck there.  Nothing can convince their body to get past that plateau of weight loss.  (That's exactly what happened to me last year when I lost 20 pounds prior to my surgery but just couldn't get rid of that last ten pounds.  I've since gained the 20 pounds back.)

So I've decided to adjust my goal weight downward by ten pounds.  When I get to within ten pounds of that goal weight, I won't be upset when I can't lose the last ten pounds. (I'll actually be at my desired weight.)  I think that's a pretty crafty solution to dealing with that dreaded plateau of weight loss efforts.

Anyway, here's to healthy living.  Onwards and downwards.

Wow, Life is getting ahead of me

Here it is Monday again already.  Where does the time go?

Seems like just yesterday I was posting about how much I love Thursdays!

Oh well, since then, I've hardly been home.

On Friday, I lunched with my Angel.  That takes me out of the house for the better part of the day.  We meet at 11:30 am and don't part ways until 2:00 pm or later.  By the time I get back home, it's almost drinky-poo time.  That marks the end of my productive day.  No more computer time.

Essentially, I take care of my computer work in the mornings.  I rarely pay attention to it later in the day.

Anyway, on Saturday, I went to another good friend's place (LC) to do her income tax.  This is an annual event, wherein we get a chance to visit -- just the two of us.  It only takes about an hour or so to do her taxes (she runs a home day care).  Then we get to "bond."

We go for a leisurely dinner at a local restaurant (she buys -- that's how she "pays" me for doing her taxes).  We go back to her place and chat up a storm over a couple of glasses of wine.

The following morning, we go for breakfast before I head home.  This has been our tradition for the past 18 years.  Prior to that, I lived in the city and there was no need to look for visiting time -- we had plenty of it.

This time, my little chickadee, my striking young man, and Pauple met us for breakfast so that was an extra bonus.

When I got home on Sunday, I hit the deck running.

Laundry ...

Restore the home to its proper state (after John having been alone for 24 hours!) ...

Get on the treadmill (can't miss a day) ...

Today, I had lots of computer work to catch up on before I could "play."

We've already been into town to run errands.

So now, I'm catching my breath.

I guess that kind of explains where the time goes.

It just flies!

It's THURSDAY again!

I can't tell you enough how much I looooooove Thursdays.

My massage therapist will arrive here today some time around the 1:30 pm mark (later than her usual 1:00 pm due to a medical appointment that she has to attend with one of her four boys).

This week's challenge is my neck.  It's been bothering me a lot lately.  My physiotherapist performed her usual magic on it, but that only holds for so long.  Now it's the massage therapist's turn.

I've buggered up my right shoulder too, but my physiotherapist set me straight on that.  She asked me what I've been doing differently.  (I've added weights to my treadmill time.)  As soon as I showed her what I do with the weights, she stopped me.

"Nothing that takes your arms above your head, Bonnie," she admonished.  "That just aggravates your already sore rotator cuff.  Keep your elbows at your ribs.  And when going out to the side, don't lift your arms more than 30% away from your body."

Of course, I had been forcing myself to go that extra push, in spite of the pain, thinking I had to strengthen the muscles.

"No," she said, "listen to your body!  If it hurts, it's because you shouldn't be doing it."

So yesterday when I did my weights, I followed her instructions.  What a difference it makes to my comfort level.  Already, I can feel the difference in my shoulder.  Before long, perhaps it won't bother me at all!

I've also added time to my treadmill work.  I do my 20 minutes every day in "workout" mode -- that's the session when I walk as fast as I can without breaking into a jog (jogging is not allowed with my new hip).  It's during this 20 minutes that I use the weights, to provide a cardio workout at the same time.

Later in the day, I do another 30 minutes on the treadmill but at a much slower speed, more like a leisurely stroll, just for the movement aspect.  I figure if I'm going to watch television, I should be moving while I'm doing it.

I continue to follow the "eat within 90 minutes of waking" rule.   (I'm actually eating within 30 minutes of waking.)  I'm also doing really well at the eating three meals and two snacks every day.

And I'm happy to report that this morning, precisely one week since my first meeting with the nurse, I am four pounds lighter than I was at this time last Thursday.

It's called discipline and if there's one thing I can do, it's discipline.  Now, if the weight loss continues at this rate (which I know it won't), I'll reach my goal by the time the "Healthy You Classes" finish on June 6th!

Trying to lose weight

Sorry for the lack of posts in the past week.

I just don't know where the time goes any more.

Haven't been spending much time on the computer.

I've become almost obsessed with losing weight so I'm "studying" how to go about doing just that.  Had a meeting with a nurse last Thursday morning and am now enrolled in the local "Healthy Lifestyle Program" which requires that I attend seven 90-minute sessions starting Tuesday, April 23rd.

Another chunk of time taken out of my life!  But it should be worth it as it is a program designed to help establish a healthy lifestyle (hence its name).

It didn't take the nurse long to recognize that our challenge will be not to cut my food intake but to establish the habit of eating three meals and two snacks every day.  I am in the habit of eating breakfast, then eating  dinner.  I simply don't get hungry so I don't eat, being a believer of only eating when hungry.  She told me I have to change that mindset.

Since our meeting, I'm happy to report that I have managed to meet that challenge every day thus far.

The other challenge she presented me with is to eat within 90 minutes of waking every day (she extended the 60 minute norm in the hopes of my meeting the challenge).  Our routine is to wake some time between 4:30 am and 6:00 am, have coffee while we read the newspaper(s), and breakfast often doesn't happen until sometime around 10:00 am.  She said that has to change.  I must eat something within the hour of waking (in my case, she'll give me 90 minutes).

Again, since our meeting, I'm happy to report that I have actually exceeded her challenge.  I'm eating something within 30 minutes of waking (if I must eat, it may as well be with that first cup of coffee!).

So when I report for the first meeting next Tuesday, she should be mightily impressed with my progress.

Who knows, perhaps I will have dropped a few pounds by then too!

Mack's back

By that I mean the Mack trucks.
They came through my bedroom last night.
Which means I've been pushing myself too hard the last little while.
Last week was a rough one.
Too much running back and forth to the city without adequate rest time between trips.
So now, my body is making me rest.
It's giving me no options.
Fortunately, I don't have to make the trip to the city for physio today (therapist is away this week).
Today I will sit and read.
And rest.
And recuperate.
I'll do the same thing tomorrow if necessary.
Thursday, my massage therapist will be here and she will work out the kinks.
Then, all will be right with my world again.

John had another birthday

Yesterday was John's 81st birthday. Again this year, he didn't want to mark it.

"Don't get me anything," said he when I broached the topic several weeks ago. "And no, I don't want to do anything.  We'll just go for a pizza."

I know better than to plan anything for him, however small, without his complete agreement.  He simply would not be a happy camper.

So I planned nothing.  We would go for a pizza after the ball game.  (And yes my boys won, just for him!)

Then, about a week before the event, he decides he'd like to have "KFC with Marcus."  Well, that'll be a challenge given that there are no KFC outlets in this immediate area.  "Do you really want to drive into Ottawa late on the afternoon of your own birthday so you can have KFC with Marcus?"  I queried.

Eventually, my darling little chickadee suggested that they would come out to our place (a second weekend in a row, having just been here on the Saturday of Easter weekend).  And they would pick up KFC en route.

By Tuesday (or was it Wednesday?), John had contacted his two sons to see if they could join us.

This was quickly becoming that party he didn't want.

Obviously there were now other members of the family who had to be included.

We were quickly creating a monster.

Now, we all know that some people have lives and they just might have commitments.  His daughter was  unable to join us on such short notice.

His sister and her husband had been planning to stop over anyway.  It was, after all, his birthday.

By Friday, he was "really looking forward to tomorrow."  (Next year, I start two months prior to his birthday, and remind him of this last minute gala.)

All of a sudden, my little chickadee was picking up chicken for ten people, and would she please also pick up ice cream which I completely forgot to get on Friday when I was running around getting decorations and goodies to put together a party.  John Jr was commissioned to pick up the cake on his way through town. (I had ordered it earlier in the week.)

The cake (again, from our local Baker Bob's --  he makes the best cakes!) was quite the hit.

It all turned out quite well in spite of its being such an impromptu event.  A good time was had and everyone was very well fed.

I've got the tickets!

It's official.  I'm going to see the Jersey Boys!

I bought the tickets this morning.

Originally, I thought I had to wait until April 6th to buy the tickets but they went on "pre-sale" last night.  (My little chickadee gets e-mails about this stuff and shares them with me.  She takes very good care of my interests!)

Anyway, I immediately tried to buy tickets last night but wasn't liking what I was being offered (the second row of an eight-seater box).  I also didn't like the fact that TicketMaster charges an obscene $11.50 per ticket when ordering from them.  I mean really.  Per ticket?  I can understand per order, but per ticket is just downright wrong.

I decided to wait until I could buy them directly from the Box Office without paying such objectionable fees.

But I woke up this morning and wondered if that was wise.  What if the best seats were gone by the time I could go to the Box Office (Monday morning).

So, I went back on-line and asked for the best available box seats again.  This time, I was offered the first row of an eight-seater box.  Well, now we're talking.  It's not exactly a private box (four other people will be seated behind us) but at least we'll be in the front!

Not being a gambler, I decided to bite the bullet and pay the ridiculous extra fees to grab those seats while they were available.  No telling how much longer they would be there.

It really truly rots my socks to have to bow to what can only be described as highway robbery.  The only way to purchase tickets is through TicketMaster.  It's really sad that we let them hold us to ransom like this!

It's Opening Day!

Finally, it's Opening Day of 2013 Baseball Season.

Tonight, at 7:00 pm I'll be busy -- watching my Blue Jays take to the field against the Cleveland Indians.

Let's Play Ball!

Go Jays Go!

It's Easter

Personal Hospital Records

I recently received my personal hospital records in the mail.  (I had ordered them back in mid-December, and it took them this long to get them to me!)

The records date back to 1988 so there was some interesting reading.  (It seems my tinnitus dates at least that far back.  Fascinating!)

But the bulk of the record concerns my most recent stay in hospital (January 2012) for my total hip replacement.  Even that record contained some interesting enlightenment.

Did you know that the attending nurses listen to the patients when they are on the phone?  Yes, they do and they record the gist of those phone calls on the patients' files.  (Note to self:  Next time you are hospitalized, be careful.  Be very, very careful!)

As well, there are occasions when the wrong information is recorded against a patient's file.  In those cases, a line is drawn through the entry and the word "error" is written over top.

There were several such entries against my file for some reason.  I'm guessing it was because there was so little to record about me (and so much to record about the numbnuts patient in the bed beside me), that the nurse felt compelled to write something on my file.  (I know that's not likely but it sounds good, doesn't it?)

In one instance, an entry that I know is an error was not scored out.  So the record stands that on the morning of February 3rd (the day before I was released), I "reported blood on my underwear" after a visit to the washroom and an examination of my vagina revealed no tear.  That never happened!  The next day, my file contains an entry that was subsequently scored out as an error.  "No vaginal discharge noted."  Seems evident that the entry for the previous day did not apply to me since the entry for the next day didn't apply.

This leaves me to think that on release from hospital, patients should be given the right to review the file that will form a permanent record of their stay.  That way, the record can be corrected in a timely fashion.

While it distresses me that my file contains that error, what I find even more disturbing is the fact that the record of the surgery itself does not include a reference to the fact that I woke up during the surgery and spoke to the anaesthesiologist, that immediately upon waking in recovery I reported having wakened during the surgery, that the anaesthesiologist was called to come to talk to me about what happened, and that I retained the memory of having wakened up.  

Although the descriptive record of the surgery does not indicate that I woke, the Anesthesia Record contains the following entries:  

• 8:38  Surgery Start time
• 8:45  (Upper airway obstruction secondary to additional fentanyl IV re:  c/o pain intermittently)  (Note:  this is when I woke up -- a mere seven minutes into the surgery!)
• 8:55  (Convert to GA; bolus PPF and LMA insertion with transient drop in Sp02; promptly recovered with establishment of PSV back-up mode)  (Note:  GA is general anaesthesia; Bolus PPF refers to the IV insertion of Propofol, the anaesthetic that killed Michael Jackson; LMA insertion is a Laryngeal Mask Anaesthesia which enables the anaesthetist to channel oxygen or anaesthesia gas to a patient's lungs during surgery; Sp02 is Oxygen Saturation; and PSV is Pressure Support Ventilation -- a method of assisting spontaneous breathing in a ventilated patient). 
• 9:42  Surgery End time

So, it would seem that with the delivery of intravenous fentanyl, I experienced an upper airway obstruction (I started choking).  Then, when they gave me general anaesthesia to knock me out (I kept telling the anaesthetist that I was awake and she had to tell them to stop what they were doing until I was asleep again), I had serious breathing problems and they scrambled to "recover" me.

Nice going docs!  You were warned ahead of time that I had breathing issues with anaesthesia.  Perhaps you should have listened to me.

My problem with the foregoing is that never once while I was in the hospital did anyone approach me to discuss what happened. Well, the anaesthesiologist was called in to see me in recovery to tell me that I had awakened and was "quite agitated" so she had to give me general anaesthesia "for a short time" during the surgery.  (If you look at the timing above, I was given GA for almost the complete surgery -- close to an hour!)

The first near-miss for me occurred back in 1982 when I had my bunions removed.  But that time, the surgeon was good enough to tell me that they had "almost lost" me on the table.  He is the one who explained my difficulty with anaesthesia and how it should be handled in future. Thirty years later, it only took seven minutes into the surgery before they ran into problems, and serious issues arose immediately upon administration of the general anaesthesia.

I strongly believe that I should have been told about the challenges that occurred on January 30, 2012, so that I would be fully informed and could share the information when preparing for any future surgeries.

Now I have it in writing.  You can be sure I'll be taking a copy of the Anaesthesia Record with me when arranging any surgeries from here on out.

What should you take away from this?

If you have had surgery, or if you have a surgery in future, ask for a copy of your complete hospital medical report.  I think everyone should have complete information about their own health.  Obviously, the doctors aren't going to tell you!

Another "bad hands" day

Well, here we go again.  My hands are worser (sic) than ever today.

And this time, it's my own damned fault.  I know exactly why they are so sore today.

Yesterday, enjoying a second consecutive good day, I went to Walmart to do some shopping.  Amongst my purchases were four (4) flats of water.  (I refuse to drink the well water here.)

I moved those flats from the shelf at the store into my cart, from the cart into my car, and from my car into the house.  (John was not home so I did it my own self!)

There were other items that had to be brought into the house but I used my stair lift to move stuff up to the living quarters of our home.

Today, I'm paying the price big time.  And those flats of water were the significant culprits.  

Yes, I got the lecture from John this morning when he found out what I had done.  Next time, I'm to leave the stuff in the car until he gets home.

My reply?  "I know I could do that.  But when I can, I do.  I hate being an invalid."

Actually, what I said was, "I hate being inVALid."

Because really, this business of having to limit my activities makes me feel invalidated.  Silly perhaps, but that's the effect all these limitations have on me.  And I don't like that feeling, so whenever I can, I do.

Have I turned a corner?

I had a remarkably good day yesterday, insofar as pain and energy level are concerned.

My hands were not nearly as sore as they have been for the past while.  And my energy level was unusually high.

I know not the reason for either change, but I'll take it.

Yesterday was physio day so that meant making the round trip into the city, which was not too difficult this time, I must say.  (Listened to my new Rodriguez CDs all the way -- good music that!)

Prior to leaving for the city, I did my 20 minutes on the treadmill too!

Then en route to the city, I made two errand stops to pick up stuff that we need for the house.  (By making the stops on my way into the city, I can come directly home after my physio and get maximum benefit from the session.)

The only difficulty I noticed during the drive was with my right shoulder.  It doesn't like being extended so I can no longer drive with my hand at the top of the steering wheel.  (I know, one is supposed to drive with one's hands in the ten and two o'clock positions.  Does anyone actually do that any more?)

My right hip started objecting at about the half way mark but that's par for the course really.  That's not going to change.  In fact, it's only going to get worse until the hip is replaced.

All in all, it was the best day I've had in several weeks.

Perhaps it's actually taken this long for my body to rid itself of all that prednisone?

Today, so far, appears to be sizing up as a similarly good day.

Wear purple today

Unfortunately, I don't own any purple clothing.
But I am epileptic, I am aware, and I am supportive.

Seriously bad hands day

Today, my hands are beyond sore.

Typing is particularly difficult.

Therefore, I will once again resort to images to convey my thoughts.

(Unfortunately, I didn't create the above message so I can't correct the error in the third line.)

In spite of the weather,

One step forward, two steps back

That's what the past two weeks have felt like.

I'll have a good day and be able to achieve all sorts of tasks.

And that day will be followed by one of not being able to put one foot in front of the other.

Feeling like I've run a marathon the day before.

Or been beaten up by the Mafia mob.

Or fallen down a steep flight of stairs.

Or been run over by a dozen Mack trucks.

Take your pick.  Whatever the affliction, it's a horrible way to spend a day.  And I've had too many of them lately.

The strangest thing is, each time I experience a flare-up now, I'm left with another part of my body (usually in the hands) that doesn't want to recover.

First, it was the ring finger of my left hand.  Since last September, I've been unable to wear my wedding band because of the swelling that will not subside.

Next, it was the index finder of my right hand.  Do you know how many tasks you do in a day that call on the index finger of the dominant hand?  Many.  Of that I can assure you!  Not the least of which is controlling the mouse. (This could become serious folks.)

Then, it was my left elbow.  Makes reaching for and lifting my wine glass very painful.  (We're getting into extreme territory now friends.)

The latest is my wrists.  Both hands.  Need I ask how many times in a day one performs a task that calls into action one's wrists?  It's amazing how little you think about it until you have pain every time you use them!

This is truly becoming a matter of deep concern.

One would think that the medical community being what it is would by now have come up with something that would relieve inflammation and pain in someone like me who cannot tolerate ASA or anti-inflammatories.

Surely there must be something that would work.  And we need to find it before I lose total use of my limbs.

It's been seven months since I shaved my head in support of my step daughter-in-law.

I've had two haircuts to "fix" the growth in the intervening months.

This is what I have now.

It's not a whole heck of a lot different from what I started with (before the shave).

I'm getting there.

Genealogy and Grandsons

My grandson is so much fun.  He does my heart good.

The other night, he was looking over his mother's shoulder as she completed yet another on-line survey.  To the "what is your ancestry" question, she had checked off "British (UK)" when he reacted with, "Hey, that's not right!"

She told him it was indeed right and proceeded to give him a lesson in genealogy, showing him various pieces of my work.

He was enthralled, and peppered her with numerous questions, each answer eliciting more surprise.

"Really?"

"Is that right?"

"WOW!"

When she told him about there being a cousin in England who shares her name, he was amazed to learn that his mother's middle name is Cheryl. 

"What?" he exclaimed.  "Your middle name is Cheryl?  How come I didn't know that?"

At one one point, he covered his head in anguish and declared, "Gosh, I'm almost twelve and there's so much I don't know about my family!"

Oh, my striking young man.  Just as your mother has always done, you make me laugh!

Happy First Day of Spring

It is.

Really.

Honest.

It's the first day of spring today.
The calendar says so.

And with luck, by the first day of summer, the snow will be gone!

Is Spring EVER gonna get here?

Seems like Spring is taking an awfully long time getting here.

Bitterly cold outside again overnight last night -- March 17th, St. Patrick's Day!

The birdies are supposed to be arriving.  (Some have arrived already and are being challenged to find food.)

The grass is supposed to be rising.  (You'd be hard pressed to find any greenery around here!)

Tonight, so says our weatherman, we're getting more of the white stuff.

And that damned white stuff will continue coming down for the next three days!

(Daffodils in Bloom by John T. Fowler)

It'll be a while before we see daffodils in bloom.

Spring you say?

Tell that to someone who'll believe you!

Happy St. Patrick's Day

I AM Irish, although a tad removed.

Woo hoo!

Remember my 60th birthday when my little chickadee 'surprised' me with a trip to Toronto to see the Jersey Boys?  Read My 60th Birthday Surprise and Report of my Jersey Boys excursion.

Now, finally, they're going to play in Ottawa this summer.  And I've found two friends to accompany me to a matinee performance in early July.  I am sooooooooo excited.

Gonna buy three box seats (a box holds four seats) and hope that the fourth doesn't sell.  We'll have our own private party.  I can't buy the tickets until April 6th, so it's entirely possible that I might find a fourth interested party to join us before then.

Have I mentioned that I'm excited?