Optomism, Pessimism, and Meaning
Again, thank you to all of you who read and comment on my blog. It means a lot to me to have your caring support.
Right now it seems like difficult times are ahead, with a small flame of hope. Xrays followed by an MRI followed by a CAT scan revealed that Matt has a fractured hip. The orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Fuji, with whom Matt had an appointment yesterday, told him that the fracture is healing nicely on its own. He also said that it's time for Matt to wean himself off the drugs that he's been taking for pain management. This is something he had already begun to do on his own. Dr. Fuji also strongly encouraged Matt to walk, even if only with a walker, even if only for a few minutes at a time. Without the endorphins which the drugs have provided (or elicited) and with it taking a while for Matt's body to resume its normal production of endorphins, Matt is likely to experience an intensification of his pain and depression. Exercise may mitigate some of this. The flame of hope is that Matt may recover his mobility. I'm optimistic about this . . . and concerned about other challenges that keep coming at him like wasps that've just had their nest destroyed. This concern arises because of some of Matt's other physical symptoms. With what's going on in his body, with the effects of all the various drugs and herbs, etc. that he's taking, and with the physical inactivity that his condition has forced upon him, it is difficult to know what is really going on.
Not surprisingly, this has continued to be a difficult time for me. I was reminded of an insight yesterday about my pathological relationship to food. I was driving Matt to see the doctor as well as to get his weekly lab work done. "I don't know why I'm so depressed today," he said. Not wanting to either question or advise, I had no answer. As I brought the wheelchair to the passenger side of the car, I realized that I was angry and that I wanted something inappropriate to eat. Of course I'm not angry at Matt. My anger at Life (?) is irrational. Still, I'm angry. "It's not fair," a childish part of me wants to scream. In that child mode, I feel that I am due something. Chocolate cake topped with ice cream comes to mind.
I remember when I first started lying to my parents. I was in 7th grade and realized that my classmates constantly lied to their parents. It seemed like the grown-up thing to do. I found my Declaration of Independence in an ice cream sandwich. My parents gave me lunch money and I bought 2 or 3 ice cream sandwiches with it. Easing into the liar role, I would tell my parents that I had a sandwich and some ice cream for lunch. Now, at friggin 61, I still feel like I'm getting away with something when I eat inappropriately. I haven't hit the 200 lb. mark and hopefully will recover my sanity before I do, but at 197 lbs. I am definitely not getting away with anything. (I should point out that I'm only 5'4").
This is an excellent time for me to reflect on small weight losses and plateaus. One of my blog friends has been having a difficult time. Her weight chart shows that, with her ups and downs, she gotten rid of 8.2 pounds since the New Year. Even though I'm sure that's not what she hoped for, I wish I could claim that loss for myself. Instead, I am now 12 pounds higher than when I began this blog at 185 lbs. in late September 2005. When I left to go to Spain in early May 2006, my weight was 164.5 lbs. It had climbed to 173 lbs. by the beginning of July. Would I have gotten back on track if Matt had remained as healthy as he seemed to be last year? I honestly don't know. In any case, I've put on 24 lbs. since his diagnosis. In a comment that he wrote to my April 7 post, Spider asked, "Do you want to come back next year and post that you are at 275 pounds or something similar? " I thought he had an excellent point then. It continues to remain relevant. Despite the stresses with which Matt and I are dealing, I've got to reverse directions with my weight.
The game plan that I made on September 27, shortly after finding out about Matt's leukemia diagnosis is a good one. It included the following points:
1. Take it day by day, episode by episode.
2. Do the BEST I can.
3. Drink water constantly.
4. Be active. Be alive.
5. Avoid the family room except to be with Matt.
6. Use this one affirmation: I, Arlene, consistently make good decisions.
There was a 7th point which I won't be following right now This was to go to Weight Watcher meetings at least once a week and to talk to people when I’m there. The time may come when I'm ready to do this again. Regarding item #4, I need to make a pact with myself and KEEP IT to use my elliptical cross trainer. This is something I actually enjoy doing once I get myself to do it. Alone in the room it currently dominates, I get to listen to wonderful music (or watch TV). The last time I used the elliptical, I found another small pleasure. For those of you who know of my fascination with "auspicious" numbers (and who are still reading this rather lengthy blog), I'm discovering a sense of profound joy as the symmetrical numbers show up under the categories of time, calories, and distance. An expenditure of 171.7 calories delights me. Having 22.2 minutes left of the session makes me cheer.
Spider suggested that I find "a place that has some spiritual meaning . . . and perhaps a (spiritual) counselor" to deal with the stresses that are confronting Matt and me. Spirituality is is a complex matter for me. It has been for most of my friggin 61 years. It is something that I look forward to exploring at another time in a blog that I've not yet created. Even so, Meaning and self identity are components of what we're going through. Our behavior reflects who we are and creates the self that we become. For the most part, I feel good about how I've been dealing with Matt's illness, but I don't like what I see with regard to my pathological relationship with food. The physical ramifications of this are obvious. I've written about this in terms of integrity. On a deeper level, how can I fully experience life, how can I find meaning in this experience, if I am blunting my experience of it with food? Food becomes a blanket in which I smother myself.
I'll end this with an affirmation that started as a kind of prayer: "I, Arlene, stay conscious, embrace health, and choose happiness. I have the strength an energy to make that happen."
Right now it seems like difficult times are ahead, with a small flame of hope. Xrays followed by an MRI followed by a CAT scan revealed that Matt has a fractured hip. The orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Fuji, with whom Matt had an appointment yesterday, told him that the fracture is healing nicely on its own. He also said that it's time for Matt to wean himself off the drugs that he's been taking for pain management. This is something he had already begun to do on his own. Dr. Fuji also strongly encouraged Matt to walk, even if only with a walker, even if only for a few minutes at a time. Without the endorphins which the drugs have provided (or elicited) and with it taking a while for Matt's body to resume its normal production of endorphins, Matt is likely to experience an intensification of his pain and depression. Exercise may mitigate some of this. The flame of hope is that Matt may recover his mobility. I'm optimistic about this . . . and concerned about other challenges that keep coming at him like wasps that've just had their nest destroyed. This concern arises because of some of Matt's other physical symptoms. With what's going on in his body, with the effects of all the various drugs and herbs, etc. that he's taking, and with the physical inactivity that his condition has forced upon him, it is difficult to know what is really going on.
Not surprisingly, this has continued to be a difficult time for me. I was reminded of an insight yesterday about my pathological relationship to food. I was driving Matt to see the doctor as well as to get his weekly lab work done. "I don't know why I'm so depressed today," he said. Not wanting to either question or advise, I had no answer. As I brought the wheelchair to the passenger side of the car, I realized that I was angry and that I wanted something inappropriate to eat. Of course I'm not angry at Matt. My anger at Life (?) is irrational. Still, I'm angry. "It's not fair," a childish part of me wants to scream. In that child mode, I feel that I am due something. Chocolate cake topped with ice cream comes to mind.
I remember when I first started lying to my parents. I was in 7th grade and realized that my classmates constantly lied to their parents. It seemed like the grown-up thing to do. I found my Declaration of Independence in an ice cream sandwich. My parents gave me lunch money and I bought 2 or 3 ice cream sandwiches with it. Easing into the liar role, I would tell my parents that I had a sandwich and some ice cream for lunch. Now, at friggin 61, I still feel like I'm getting away with something when I eat inappropriately. I haven't hit the 200 lb. mark and hopefully will recover my sanity before I do, but at 197 lbs. I am definitely not getting away with anything. (I should point out that I'm only 5'4").
This is an excellent time for me to reflect on small weight losses and plateaus. One of my blog friends has been having a difficult time. Her weight chart shows that, with her ups and downs, she gotten rid of 8.2 pounds since the New Year. Even though I'm sure that's not what she hoped for, I wish I could claim that loss for myself. Instead, I am now 12 pounds higher than when I began this blog at 185 lbs. in late September 2005. When I left to go to Spain in early May 2006, my weight was 164.5 lbs. It had climbed to 173 lbs. by the beginning of July. Would I have gotten back on track if Matt had remained as healthy as he seemed to be last year? I honestly don't know. In any case, I've put on 24 lbs. since his diagnosis. In a comment that he wrote to my April 7 post, Spider asked, "Do you want to come back next year and post that you are at 275 pounds or something similar? " I thought he had an excellent point then. It continues to remain relevant. Despite the stresses with which Matt and I are dealing, I've got to reverse directions with my weight.
The game plan that I made on September 27, shortly after finding out about Matt's leukemia diagnosis is a good one. It included the following points:
1. Take it day by day, episode by episode.
2. Do the BEST I can.
3. Drink water constantly.
4. Be active. Be alive.
5. Avoid the family room except to be with Matt.
6. Use this one affirmation: I, Arlene, consistently make good decisions.
There was a 7th point which I won't be following right now This was to go to Weight Watcher meetings at least once a week and to talk to people when I’m there. The time may come when I'm ready to do this again. Regarding item #4, I need to make a pact with myself and KEEP IT to use my elliptical cross trainer. This is something I actually enjoy doing once I get myself to do it. Alone in the room it currently dominates, I get to listen to wonderful music (or watch TV). The last time I used the elliptical, I found another small pleasure. For those of you who know of my fascination with "auspicious" numbers (and who are still reading this rather lengthy blog), I'm discovering a sense of profound joy as the symmetrical numbers show up under the categories of time, calories, and distance. An expenditure of 171.7 calories delights me. Having 22.2 minutes left of the session makes me cheer.
Spider suggested that I find "a place that has some spiritual meaning . . . and perhaps a (spiritual) counselor" to deal with the stresses that are confronting Matt and me. Spirituality is is a complex matter for me. It has been for most of my friggin 61 years. It is something that I look forward to exploring at another time in a blog that I've not yet created. Even so, Meaning and self identity are components of what we're going through. Our behavior reflects who we are and creates the self that we become. For the most part, I feel good about how I've been dealing with Matt's illness, but I don't like what I see with regard to my pathological relationship with food. The physical ramifications of this are obvious. I've written about this in terms of integrity. On a deeper level, how can I fully experience life, how can I find meaning in this experience, if I am blunting my experience of it with food? Food becomes a blanket in which I smother myself.
I'll end this with an affirmation that started as a kind of prayer: "I, Arlene, stay conscious, embrace health, and choose happiness. I have the strength an energy to make that happen."
posted by ArleneWKW at 2:10 PM
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