December 24th: ChuChi's Confession

Hello my beloved Chubby Chasers, and Merry Christmas Eve!

This post is long overdue, but I've been struggling with the decision to make this confession or not.  On the one hand, I promised in the very beginning of this journey to be completely honest with you all in every way. I wanted complete transparency so that I could be totally held accountable for my failures and success, and so that anyone interested in pledging or challenging would know that I would be honest to a fault.

On the other hand, numerous of my personal friends and family are now Chubby Chasers as well - so I'm not granted as much anonymity as I might have been as just "ChuChi" on the world wide web.  The things I say on here can have repercussions in my life and affect the way that my friends and family view me.

But, I'm going to tell you everything because - maybe it will be therapeutic.

I'm going to tell you everything because I promise to tell you the truth, and I like to stay true to my word.

I'm going to tell you everything because I don't want you to think that this was just some flash in the pan gimmick that is over for me.

And I'm going to tell you everything because I have nothing to be ashamed of and maybe...just maybe...this confession will reach someone else going through the same thing who needs some inspiration.   How wonderful would it be if - like with my weight struggle - my emotional struggles could also help to inspire or motivate others?  Just maybe, then, it would have all been worth it.

So, here it is: I suffer from Bipolar Disorder; otherwise known as Manic Depression.

I was originally diagnosed with Depression as a teenager, but received the Bipolar diagnosis as a young adult.

Early on, between normal teenage hormone fluctuations and my disorder, I suffered as doctors sought the proper medication and dosage.  And, over the years, I've had small bouts - I mean, medication just helps, but it's not a cure so the regular highs and lows that everyone experiences in life are just a little more dramatic for me.

For those who do not know what Bipolar Disorder is, it affects me in four different ways.

I can experience severe depression - the kind where I sleep for fifteen hours and cry at a pin drop and hate myself and life and everything about me.  As a teenager, I once downed about 10-15 of antidepressants with the thought that it would either make me VERY happy or it would kill me but either way, I wouldn't have to be so terribly sad anymore.  They didn't do either.  In fact, no one even knew I did it until I recently told my parents.  However, my Depression includes it's very own soundtrack.  It's this internal voice on this loop that tells me I'm a failure, I'm worthless, that THIS is the person I really am and that - although my friends tell me they'll be there for me no matter what - they don't really know this side of me and if they did, I would just drain the life out of them.  This voice tells me that my hopes and dreams and projects - like ChuChi - are all stupid and worthless and I'm just going to screw it up and embarrass myself.

But, unlike Chronic Depression, BD is more than just extreme sadness.  One of the worst, for me, is the bouts of rage.  I've punched walls and once broke my hand in a fit of uncontrollable rage.  I feel hate and disgust and get to this point, for some unknown reason, where everything my mom says and does simply drives me up the wall to an almost blinding fury.  When coupled with a mix of depression, I begin to inwardly hate...absolutely LOATHE myself.  It's been over 7 years since I've self harmed, but in the past, I have resorted to mild cutting, poking myself with thumb tacks and just hitting or biting myself where no one else would be able to see the marks.  One time, I raked my keys over my wrists numerous times until I scraped the skin badly enough to bleed.  I've only confessed this to my mother and doctor this past month.  But again, I can at least say that the self mutilation has not occurred in years.  That inner monologue continues, but much more passionately than the sorrowful whining of depression.

Sometimes, I just go numb.  It's like my emotions wall up and I have no care, no love, no apathy.  I simply exist.  I find no joy in the things I love to do - I simply go through the motions to keep my mind busy.   I saw some funny pictures online and laughed, but realized that even my laugh sounded completely hollow and foreign.

And then, my one and only perk of BD:  Mania.  Now, these symptoms are a bit different for everyone, I would assume, but I've personally never experienced a mania that I didn't like.  I am happy, SUPER productive and full of natural energy.  I love everyone and everything and life is wonderful!  People love to be around me when I am like this, and I clean the house to perfection and I'm at my very funniest and goofiest and usually have everyone around me cracking up.  I am hopeful and optimistic and I can conquer the WORLD!  In fact, this project was very likely created during a moment of mania, which I'm sure is pretty easy to understand.

I don't usually recognize a manic episode because that is when I feel the most like "me"...it's not until the mania wears off that I slip into depression or rage and realize what was happening, and then I'm stuck wondering "Which is the real me?  What if the real me isn't the sunshine and rainbows part, but one of the others?"

For the longest time, my medication has worked well and I've been pretty stable for years.  However, earlier this year, I began experiencing bouts of depression or anger or mania that were just slightly more extreme than usual.  I was put on an anti-anxiety medication to help with mild side-effects and that seemed to help in the moment...but over the past few months, these episodes have increased in quantity, intensity and duration until finally, early November, I asked my Doctor if he could increase my dosage.  Since I was already at the maximum dosage, he decided to change me to a new medication.

Now, the switch between medications is usually rough - but I had never experienced anything quite like this. I sunk into a serious depression and was dealing with thoughts of suicide on a daily basis.  Now, I'd like to clarify something:  THINKING about suicide and PLANNING to commit suicide are very different things.  For example, I see Robert Pattinson and THINK about tearing his clothes off and having my way with him...but I have no intentions to actually do it.  This is similar...it was a constant thought, swirling around in my head...but I had no intention of doing it or acting on it.  Despite my emotions, I was clear headed enough to know that was not the answer, it would be selfish, and it would hurt others.

A week after switching to the new medication, my doctor was out of town on vacation, so I asked my mom to take me to Urgent Care so that I could ask for a higher dosage, or SOME kind of help to get me through it.  The nurse asked me how severe it was and I admitted to having dark thoughts.  Next thing I know, I'm being Baker Acted - which is a mandatory commitment to an asylum for at least 72 hours based on the "fact" that I pose a risk to myself and others.

Needless to say, being treated like I was crazy, dangerous and unable to care for myself because I was honest in seeking help did NOT help my predicament.   I flew into a rage so powerful that my mom questioned my sanity and suggested that being hospitalized might be the best thing for me.

That sobered me up.

Luckily, I managed to swing my attitude around so that I was more manic.  Its not usually that easy for me, but I guess it was a fight or flight response, and the adrenaline rush worked in my favor.  While I was supposed to be out with my friends at the long awaited premiere of The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 2, I was in a hospital ER awaiting placement in a facility.  I managed to joke around and tease the doctors and nurses and hold the tears at bay until another doctor saw me and claimed that there was no need for the psychiatric hold, releasing me with orders to double my medication...as I had requested ten hours earlier at the Urgent Care center.

Hrumph.

By now, it was Thanksgiving week, so I was trying to find a psychiatrist who could help me but I had to wait till early December.  Luckily, I turned a bit manic the day before Thanksgiving and made it through the holiday on a high.

When I finally saw a psychiatrist for the first time, he explained that the medication my Primary Care Physician had put me on was meant for Chronic Depression - NOT Bipolar Disorder - and it could explain why my symptoms became worse.  He subscribed a medication that knocked me out for two weeks - leaving me sleeping upwards of 15 hours a day and lethargic the rest of the time.

As of December 12th, I have been switched again and over the past week, my parents and I are all starting to see an improvement.  It's scary, because everyday that I feel good, I worry that it's mania setting in, foreshadowing more rage or depression...but so far, I've been steady.

In the meantime, my father has been experiencing continuing trouble since his knee replacement surgery and is now in the hospital for the fourth time since October.  He is undergoing surgery today - Christmas Eve - and will be in the hospital through New Year's.  Due to my Bipolar Disorder, I've been unable to work and my Dad is still on extended Medical Leave for his knee - which means that we are hardly bringing in any income right now.  All of this has added to my stress and worries, making thoughts of shopping healthy and such null and void in the grand scheme of things, when we are shopping on a very tight budget.  My brother has taken my nieces on a tropical cruise, so not only has he not come by the hospital or called, but we will not be seeing them for Christmas.  My aunt and her father are both in the hospital.

It doesn't feel like the holidays at all.

So, folks...it's not that I've given up.  I mean...maybe I did for a little while...but I have to believe that that's not the real me.  Things are just harder than expected, and I haven't been in a place to fight through it and focus on my weight loss at the same time.  But, they're turning around...they're getting better...and soon, I'll be back on the bandwagon.

For those of you who have stuck with me and randomly shouted out to wish me well over the past month...you have no idea how deeply your support touched me at a very, very dark time.

For those of you who know me personally - please don't look at me differently.  I'm the same girl you knew and loved...you just know me a little better now, that's all.  There is no need to worry about me - to have gotten through the shit I've gotten through this past month - I am hella strong and I'm not going anywhere.  My head's a little messed up, but my heart is fine and it is here to stay, so stick with me.

I hope that you all have had a much better year, and I wish you the happiest of happies and the merriest of merries.  Hang in there...ChuChi will be making a comeback soon enough!

Nov. 25: Healing...

I've been afraid to write this blog.

For one, although I am "anonymous" - many of my Chubby Chasers are real life friends and family, which means that I am not nearly as anonymous as I may originally seem.  What I say on this blog and this site can impact the way people look, think about or treat me in real life.  It can affect my relationships and my reputation.

However, when I started this journey as the Chubby Chick, I said that I wouldn't have any secrets and that I wouldn't lie to you.  If there is something that is impacting my weight, my health or my overall journey, I promised that I would share it with you or I may as well not even bother doing this.  It's an all or nothing thing, right?  If I'm going to half ass it, I may as well just throw in the towel.

As of this moment, I have 49 Chubby Chasers, I've earned $376.90 for seven different charities and I've lost over 35 pounds in less than four months.

I'm not throwing in the damn towel.

So, with that being said, I hope that those of you who know me personally will not look at me any differently.  I am not asking for your sympathy or pity either.  And, if at all possible - please don't spread what you learn here to anyone else outside of the Chubby Chaser circle.  I'm trusting you with this information because you have chosen to support me in my weight loss journey and because you have stood on the front line and been the first ones to challenge me and make pledges and follow through on your pledges to charity.

First, the good news.  Although you have not really heard much from me since the beginning of the month...although I have not been on a strict diet and exercise regiment...I have managed to maintain my weight at approximately 330 - 332 lbs, which is where I began the month.

As a teenager, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder - otherwise known as Manic Depression.  I am going to write this blog for those of you who know nothing about the disorder or its treatment so, for those of you who are more familiar with it, this may seem a little elementary.

Most people are a bit more familiar with Depression - which is a feeling of sadness.  When you are clinically depressed, the feeling of sadness may come on for no particular reason, or it may be overwhelming wear you  simply can't come out of it.  Severe depression can last for days, weeks or months at a time and may lead to thoughts of self harm or suicide if left untreated.

Clinical Depression is just a part of Bipolar Disorder.

Bipolor Disorder is often referred to as Manic Depression because you can also experience episodes of "Mania" - extreme hyper activity, happiness, joy, laughter, productivity.  Personally, I never have more fun, nor am I more fun to hang out with when I am experiencing this kind of mania.

But, there is a flip side to this mania, and it literally comes on in the blink of an eye.  It's agitation, irritability, aggravation, anger and full on, irrational, illogical and blinding rage.  In a healthy state of mind, I am a peaceful, non-confrontational person who will often take abuse just to avoid having to confront someone to stand up for myself but, when the mania sets in, I am so full of hate and loathing and violence that I want to hurt someone.  I usually have just enough of "me" left inside that I have never physically hurt someone in one of these rages...but I've sadly made my mother cry and I've actually broken my pinky finger by punching a concrete wall once.

So, although I've been on prescription medication since I was a teenager, every so often, I'll get another medication for asthma or allergies or something, and a drug interaction might cause my mood prescription to stop working as well.  So I have to switch.  Or, maybe...after a few year of using a particular mood prescription, I start developing a tolerance...so I need a new dosage.  Another time, after I had gained a couple of hundred pounds, we found that excessive weight gain was a huge side effect of my mood enhancer - so the doctor thought we should try something else to see if that would help me to get the weight down.

Recently, I've noticed that my mood prescription hasn't been as helpful as it has in the past.  I've been having more bouts of depression and anger and less periods of stabilization.  So, my doctor decided to change my prescription to something new.  He advised me to start the new prescription immediately and started me at the lowest dose possible.

A few days after starting my new medication, I went into a happy, productive mania - but did not recognize the symptoms.  I mean, who EVER complains when they are euphoric and productive?  It wasn't after three days of euphoric happiness that I crashed and realized what was happening.  I left a message for my doctor's office, but didn't hear back.  It was Thursday, and I had already missed two days of work.

I called and left another message on Friday - again, with no response.  That night, I started having scary thoughts.

For those of you who have never experienced severe depression - there is a big difference between having suicidal thoughts and BEING suicidal.  The best way I can explain is - for any woman who saw the movie "Magic Mike" - thinking about stripping Channing Tatum, throwing him down on the bed and having your way with him does not constitute a PLAN for actually raping him.

A thought does not always equal a plan or intent.

By Saturday, my thoughts had turned dark, against my will.  This means that - although I was coherent, rational and logical and I knew that suicide was by no means the answer - it was on my mind.

Upon my request, my mother drove me to Urgent Care so that I could speak to a doctor about upping my new medication to the next dose.  If I had been familiar with it, I would have just done it on my own - but since it was new and I didn't know much about it, I just wanted to speak to a doctor before doubling up on it.  I was just trying to be responsible.

So, we go to Urgent Care and in the triage, the woman asks if I am suicidal.  I am trying to get my meds upped, so I assume it will be best to be honest.  I tell her I have no desire to kill myself, but I do have dark thoughts.  She asks me what thoughts and I explain that the sleeping pill thing crossed my mind a day or so ago.  She takes me to my bed where I wait to see the doctor.

The doctor comes by and asks me if I want to kill myself.  I say no.  She asks me why I told the triage nurse that I did.  Now, I'm getting pissed.  I explain that I never told her I wanted to kill myself - I just explained that I've been feeling down and having dark thoughts, but that I have no desire to hurt myself and that is why I am here to ask if I can up my meds.  The doctor says it sounds suspicious because now I am changing my story.  Now, I'm losing my temper.  I say I'm not changing my story - a couple of days ago, I had a thought about taking sleeping pills - I didn't do it, I have no desire to do it, that why I didn't do it, that's why I'm still alive and if I wanted to hurt myself I wouldn't ask my mom to drive me to a hospital so that I could ask a doctor if it would be safe for me to take an extra pill.

The doctor leaves.

I start bawling cuz I'm scared shitless.  Mom tells me I shouldn't have told them I was having dark thoughts, cuz now they think I'm crazy...which makes me cry harder.  Mom tells me I shouldn't be crying because it's only going to make them think worse, which pisses me off, so I stop crying, wipe my eyes and kick my shoes off.

Mom tells me not to get mad because my sudden mood swings are going to make them think they are right.  Now I'm even madder.  I can feel my face changing color and I feel like "HULK, SMASH!" and my mom's eyes bug out and she says "I don't know - maybe you need to go..." Which makes me sad because I'm scaring her and hurts my feelings because she's saying she things I'm crazy and makes me made because she won't stop talking and I'm mad for being honest and I'm mad for asking her to bring me here and I'm mad for not just taking an extra pill instead of trying to do the right thing and I'm mad because I lost my license and I'm mad because I think it's too late for me to just grab my shit and run for the door and...

Mom starts tearing up and I take a deep breath, trying to get myself under control - willing my face to return to the normal control so I don't look crazy anymore, even though my heart is pounding.  The doctor pulls the curtain wide open and she is there with what looks like two nurses and a security guard.

"You're going to Baker Act me."  I claim, as calm as I can, although the tears are already beginning to fall.

For those of you not in the know, Baker Act is a Florida Statute that allows you to place someone in a Psychiatric hold for no less than 72 hours if a family member or medical professional deems them to be a danger to themselves or others.

"I'm sorry, but we can't take a risk-"  She starts.

"Even though I've told you I have no intention to hurt myself and I came here to ask for permission to up my meds so that I specifically would not harm myself?"  I asked.

"You said you had intentions to take sleeping pills."

"And there's nothing I can do about it?  At this point, I'm a prisoner, is that correct?  If I were to try to get up and walk out that door, you're going to what?  Have him tackle me?  Sedate me?  Tie me to a bed like some lunatic all because I came here and asked you for help?"  I asked, indignant tears pouring down my cheeks.

I have to admit, she looked a little embarrassed at that one.  "Yes, he would try to stop you."

"Fine.  Do whatever you have to do."  I started bawling in front of all of them, but you're not really given much dignity after that anyway.  One of the nurses came right up in my face and started babying, rubbing my shoulder and telling me it was going to be alright.  Like I said - although your moods are all over the place - you are logical and rational...you are just not always capable of behaving in the most rational, logical way.  So, I stayed quiet for as long as I could and allowed her to placate me - it felt for an hour, but it was probably less than a minute, before I asked her to stop.  I thought I did it pretty nicely, consider what was going down, but mom told me later I pretty much barked at her.

The guard got me a gown and some socks, gave me a second to change and from that point forward, my curtain has to remain opened so that he could monitor me.  I have to give it to him, he was pretty cool.  Said right from the start he didn't think I was a danger and - although he kept the curtain open and watched me, he didn't require me to stay on the bed and seated and joked with me and mom.  In fact - I don't know how I did it...like I've said before, I think my sense of humor is just a form of self defense, but from that point forward, I start joking.  I joked about everything.  And I laughed.  No more crying.  No more anger.

Paramedics came to transfer me to a local hospital, and I flirted with them relentelessly.  They said there was no way I was a Baker Act and noted as much in their notes.  Even said as much to the nurses when I got into the ER.  And, therefore, I didn't get paid much attention to in the ER.

They followed protocol, but loosely.  For example, the alarm bracelet that they put on Psych patients so that you can't disappear was put so loosely on my wrist that I could slip it off without any effort whatsoever.  They joked with me.  I missed a girls night out that I had planned, which hurt terribly, and I bawled when I had to tell them why I was going to miss it.  But, aside from that, I was lucky to have leveled out.  My parents stayed by my side during the ordeal except for about one hour when all visitors had to clear the floor.

That was a tough hour - without any distractions.  Fear started taking over as I tried to imagine how I could possibly cope without family and friends in some kind of psych ward all because of some kind of misunderstanding...I almost cried again, but turning my attention on making some of the personnel laugh.

When the doctor came around, the hospital stuff all told him that I was no danger to anybody, so he gave me the option to stay voluntarily instead of being Baker Acted.  Apparently, I would keep more rights that way, so I agreed.  But, having spoken to me and the ER staff, he placed a call to the Psychologist and instead, they agreed to just up my dosage and release me to the care of my parents, as I was no risk.

That was last Saturday.

It's been a rough week.  If you've ever seen the commercials, depression DOES hurt.  Aside from the emotions of it all, you really do experience headache and muscle aches, sore stomach, cramps, nausea and other illnesses along with it.  Not to mention the hell that you know you are putting other people through.  The worry and heartache and hurt my parents have experienced by my side and, I've wanted to be better - if not for me, than for them.  It's this constant struggle where neither of us can do anything for the other.

Per the doctors instructions, I've tweaked my meds a little and have finally started to see some results.  I still don't feel back to being "me" yet, but I'm on my way.  There are some changes that need to be made - I'm not entirely sure that this medicine is the right one for me - regardless of dosage - and its a scary road to travel till I find the right one...but I'm hopeful.  Sadly, I've missed two weeks of work and, with not sick time available - that's two weeks of pay I will not be getting right before the holidays.  That doesn't help lift my spirits much.

But, don't count me out, folks.  I've been through all of this and the Chubby Chick has done ALL that bad, so I must be in it for the long haul, right?

For those of you still in this with me - thank you.  I hope that you all have had a much better, brighter Thanksgiving month, and I look forward to making a terrific difference with you in the months ahead.

Most Sincerely,
The "Cheerful" Chubby Chick

An Ode To Excuses...

As of the beginning of October-

• My mother's ankle had healed just enough to the point where she could walk and start driving again.
• My father's knee had healed well enough that he could be released from rehab.
• My job informed me that I was going to be demoted and face a drastic pay cut due to the amount of work I missed on account of my parents' injuries.
• I met a great guy and went on five wonderful dates in eight days.
• In addition, he met my parents, who really, really liked him.
• He went out of his way to treat me better than a man has ever treated me.
• He met my friends who all thought he was fantastic and already made future plans for a couples night.
• I was pulled over for having an expired tag.
• I could not, for the love of God, locate my registration information or my insurance card where I normally keep them.
• I was informed that I was driving on a suspended license for unpaid tickets that I was not aware of.
• I could have been arrested on the spot but instead, my license was taken away from me, I had to call my parents to pick me up, my car can not be driven until all of this is fixed and I earned four more tickets.

By Mid-October-

• I learned that paying the tickets, late fees, driver's courses and everything else needed to get my license reinstated and my registration renewed would cost over $1,000 (and right before the holidays hit).  Therefore, my paychecks for October were all spent before they were even earned.
• I picked up any and all extra shifts or extra hours that I possibly could in order to earn extra money and get out of this hole.  Ultimately, this means that the only time I was out of the house was spent working.
• The guy I was crazy about had some personal things he had to take care of and since I basically had nothing to offer at the time (I couldn't drive to meet him halfway, I couldn't pay for anything) - I was unable to see him for over two weeks - sending my insecurity levels sky-rocketing.
• My allergies began acting up to the point where I could not inhale through my nose at all.  Allergy medication, prescription nose spray, cold and flu meds...nothing would work long term to clear up my sinuses. 
• My mom found out that her white counts were up high and that her PTINR (blood thinner levels) were dangerously high as well.  (Her blood is now down to an acceptable level, but we are still waiting for word on what to do about her white counts)

By Late October-

•  Day after day I dealt with a nose that was simultaneously stuffy and runny. It caused my asthma to become much worse and made it impossible to get a good night's sleep.
• I was now dealing with two additional factors from all the stress:  for one, I am now clenching my teeth non-stop for almost 24 hours a day and two, I had a cold sore.
• When I finally got to see the great guy again, I was so exhausted from working 22 of the past 36 hours and being sleep deprived and stressed out that I couldn't seem to get my "head in the game".  Plus, I had a cold sore, I couldn't breathe through my nose and I had to use tissues all night long to either blow or wipe my runny nose.
• My parents discovered that my mom's insurance was dropping her because my father's company neglected to provide them the accurate documentation ahead of time.  (This has since been remedied, thank God)
• I've lost my phone and have no insurance.  My phone was what I used to update MyFitnessPal.com and the app on there is what I used to walk with to calculate my time, speed, calories burned, etc.

With all of this going on, I've just fallen into a funk that I can't seem to shake.  For anyone that's familiar with depression, I'm not *sad*...just been feeling kind of hopeless and numb...both feelings that don't bode well when attempting to lose weight.  So, I didn't.  I just stopped trying.  Stopped caring.

There were moments when I'd be strong enough to put a little umph into it.  But the moments I had the emotional aptitude to try were fleeting - none of them even lasting an entire day.  My weakest moments were early in the morning before sunrise when I'd wake up exhausted and unable to breathe and head down stairs to snack while watching television.  On other days, I'd manage to eat healthy, small portions all day long only to give in and binge as soon as the sun set.

You all know that September was rough for me but October just seemed to kick me when I was down.  I still managed to lose a few pounds; according to my October 29th weigh in, I was down from 337.9 to 325.1 pounds.  That's a total weight loss of 12.8 for the month of October, but I don't really take much joy in it because I've been totally eating unhealthy, have only exercised once or twice all month and have lost track of how many times I've binged.

I'm even more sad because I thought for sure that broadcasting my success and failure for everyone to see would make it harder for me to fail.  After all, how many people would I be dissappointing when I screwed up this time around?  But, I guess not even that is enough.  My Chubby Chasers are simply too nice, caring and supportive.  I knew I could fail and you all would just give me hugs and cheer me on, trying to motivate me to do better next month because you're all wonderful like that.

So, I was downstairs at 4 am this morning snacking on Fritos and Halloween candy while thumbing through the DVR to find something to watch.  There wasn't anything that caught my attention, so I flipped on "The Doctors" and settled into the recliner with the chips.  I remember thinking they were too freaking salty, but I kept eating them anyway.

And of course, the episode is about overwriting your genetic code to be healthier.  Eating a tablespoon less salt per day can save you from stroke or heart attack.  Children of obese parents are less likely to be obese if they participate in team sports.  Stuff like that.

The first segment features the photographer from the band "Foster the People".  The lead singer dared the photographer to lose 80 lbs in 8 months.  If he succeeds, he promised to pay him $20,000.  So, out of nowhere, this photographer has turned his life around - he's been going for walks and has filled his refrigerator with baby spring greens and broccolli slaw (both things that were in my fridge and went bad because I stopped eating them), and he's lost 13 lbs in less than a month.  Sound familiar?  And the doctors say "Well, what is motivating everyone else to turn their life around, if they're not going to get $20,000 at the end of it, too?"

And I thought to myself "I have terrific people willing to donate money to charity just to support me, and I'm throwing it all away.  I have what most people don't have, and I'm wasting that precious motivation!"

I closed up the Fritos, turned off the TV and came up to my computer to start writing to you all.  I want to be that person again.  I want to be inspirational and motivational and not some sorry loser sitting on the couch pigging out.  I wanted to write down all of my excuses to take the power out of them...those excuses have already been used.  They are past their expiration date and are no longer valid.

I'm not even waiting till "tomorrow".  So what, I started off my morning with chocolate and Fritos?  Doesn't mean I have to wait till tomorrow to get back on track!  I don't need a freaking "clean slate".  I just need to get my ass back in some sneakers and get to moving!

So what, I don't have money or a car in order to go on a shopping expedition for healthy foods?  I'll just have to make the best choices I can with what I have.

Okay, folks...I know I've "rebooted" a couple of times already...and I'm sure some of you have already given up on me, and that's okay because I gave up on me too.  But...I'm just going to have to do my best to earn you all back.  More importantly, I'm going to have to do my best to impress myself.

 

INTRODUCING CHUCHI 3.0

Wish me luck.  ;o)

Days 55 & 56: It was the best of times...It was the worst of times...

Howdy All!

Okay, as I mentioned in my last post, I had a date on Saturday morning.  I will not be posting details except for how they relate to my diet, excerise and overall well being.  I like to be careful when meeting guys for the first time, so I asked him to pick me up at a Denny's near my home.  He wanted to meet my parents, so they drove me to the restaurant.  Mom and I split a Moons Over My Hammy meal while waiting for him to arrive.  He spoke to my parents briefly before we headed out on a three hour ride to the Everglades, stopping once at a fruit stand for me to get a Seven Up (my first soda in two months) and then stopped briefly for a quick bite at McDonald's.  Although I wasn't very hungry, we knew we would be unable to eat for few more hours because of the limited choices within Everglades National Park, so I had 8 Chicken McNuggets and 3 Fries.  Inside the park, we boarded a Pontoon for a tour of the Buttonwood Canal and it's adjoining waterways.  Although I didn't get much exercise, I like to think I at least burned some calories on the two hour ride in the Florida heat.  lol  After that, he treated me to dinner at a little Mexican restaurant named "Rosita's" and we enjoyed a leisurely drive along a few scenic routes.  Enjoyed a couple of hours talking in another small Everglades park before finally heading home around midnight. 

So, as you can see, I spent a good fourteen hours of the day with my date, which left little time for anything else.  Diet wise, I didn't necessarily make the best options, but I did minimize my consumption, cutting my meals by half for the most part (though my actual calories for the day are nearly impossible to calculate.)  In regards to exercise, there was some very, very minimal walking; I would assume I burnt the most calories sweating because of the heat, talking his ear off and laughing 90% of the time.  And, in regards to my overeall well-being, I have spent most of the day smiling from ear to ear, optimistic about my possibilities, hopeful, and thankful.  I've had extra energy today due in part to my bouyant mood and there *may* be little fluttery feelings in my stomach that have helped to quelch my appetite for the day.

I wasn't able to calm down enough to get to sleep until about 3 am.   I found myself awake once again around 4 am and managed to fall back to sleep about an hour later.  Despite the sleep deprivation, with the help of a Vitamin Water Energy drink and a banana, I found myself walking on Cloud 9 most of the day.  Due to some unforseen circumstances, I was informed that my job will be demoting me down to a lower position and cutting my pay - although they are currently unable to inform me what my new rate of pay will be.  My manager has assured me that she will speak to the corporate HR representative, as well as our in house Personnel Manager to find out more details and see if there is anything else that I can do on my part, and in turn, I will be contacting a few people to see what my options are for fighting the demotion.  Needless to say, the whole thing was very upsetting and by the time I was released for my lunch break, I had absolutely no appetite.  A couple of coworkers managed to cheer me up and, after getting a few really sweet messages from my Saturday date, I was able to return to my happy place.

After work, I grabbed a Slim Fast shake and set about visiting a couple of stores to exchange some items.  By the time I got home, it was 8 pm and my energy reserves were completely depleted...honestly feel like I could fall asleep any second.  So, aside from the running around I did at work today and the errands I complete afterward - there will be no exercising for me tonight.  However, I should be very under my calories for the day, as I've chosen another Slim Fast shake, some cantaloupe and some almonds for my dinner.  Although my research has warned me against going under 1200 calories a day, a friend of mine who is studying health and fitness has advised me that she doesn't believe in the "starvation mode" theory.  So, my mental compromise is that consuming less than 1200 calories shouldn't hurt me...as long as I don't make a point of doing it too often.

Sadly, today is the last day of September and - although I won't know how I did until my final weigh in tomorrow, I can't help but feel like I've really failed myself and all of you this month.  Well, maybe fail is too strong of a word...but I KNOW I could have done better and I most definitely should have tried harder.  For that, I am disappointed in myself.

But, I'm learning to let myself feel without letting my feelings slow me down.  I can be dissappointed in my failures while not allowing that to interfere with my determination to succeed.  I'm going to trip and fall from time to time...it's not always going to be easy.  There will be times when I have to struggle against the current to get it done and there will be times that I'm simply too tired and overwhelmed to be my very best.  For times like these, I need to learn to feel, forgive, learn, and move on.

Given how much better I did diet wise today, I'd say I'm onto a pretty great start.  Wouldn't you?

October - bring it on!

Day 54: Back On The Wagon

Hey Folks!

My Oh My, what a month!

After my last post, I DID put my nose to the grindstone and work my butt off.  The rest of that week, I managed to walk for 30 minutes every single day and was especially careful about what I ate, which put me at 340.3 for my next weigh in.  Sadly, my phone was dead that morning and I was running late, so I don't have my normal scale picture...unfortunately, you'll just have to take my word for it.

However, in the process of helping out my mom and dad, working full time, trying to eat right and struggling to get in my 30 minute work out every single day, the stress began taking a toll on me.  In my effort not to eat the wrong things, I began coming in too far under calories and either binging to bring my calories up before going to bed, or going to bed on an empty and very unhappy stomach.  The sudden change in my work out regimen was giving me shin splints, backaches and neckaches and the stress of it all was totally screwing with my sleep.  I think there was a week that went by where I was only able to sleep about 10 hours all week.  I was completely exhausted and I am STILL paying for it.

So, this week - I'm realizing that as much as I want to lose weight, I have to wise about the way I go about it.  I want to be HEALTHY...not risk my well being just for a drop on the scale.  So, I've been as smart as I can about my meal choices - eaten light and healthy whenever I'm at home or have the ability to pack something and then just trying to tweak the things I order while on the run - sticking with basic hard tacos because they are only 200 calories each, or requesting whole wheat pasta instead of regular pasta.  It's not as good as I WAS doing, but it's not as bad as I could be doing, either.  As for exercise, I've been getting my walking in, even if it's only a few minutes at a time - up and down hallways at the Rehab facility, around the block while my mom and dad visit, walking laps at work while I take care of the Liquor Store or offering to put back the groceries that are out of place so that I can keep myself moving for a half an hour to an hour.  Standing at my register or watching the front door while doing lunges or just bouncing in place.  It's little things, but it's still more than I was doing when I started.

I don't know how my weigh in will go for the month.  I'm more confident in the number of work outs I did in September than I am in the actual amount of weight I was able to lose.  But either way - effort was made, improvements were made and this time is behind me - all I can do is move forward and do better.

As of this afternoon, my Dad is home from Rehab and able to walk without assistance.  My mom has been walking a little without the boot and can do most things without my help now and for the first time all month, I am allowing myself a night to go out with my friends and have some fun!  Tomorrow, life will begin to return to a more normal pace and I can turn some of the focus off of my parents and back onto my own health and wellness.

And, just a nibble of what's going on in my social life...I've recently been really hitting it off with someone that I've met on a dating site.  We talked online for a while and in the past week and a half, we have started texting and chatting on the phone every day.  We will meet for the first time tomorrow morning as he takes me for a day of adventure in the Florida Everglades.  :o)  I am very excited and, if nothing more, I am incredibly glad to have a new friend that I have so very much in common with.  I don't know how much I will be talking about that on my blog but, as it is something that may or may not affect my eating and work out habits, I thought it was worth a mention.  So, there you have it, all!  I really, sincerely hope that I can get back on track now and be done with these petty excuses for doing anything less than my absolute best!

Kisses and Squishes!
Your ChuChi

Day 43: Introducing, ChuChi 2.0!!!

I realized this morning that I tend to make mental notes on my walks about things that I want to tell you guys.  I don't commune with nature.  I don't tune out the world and turn off my inner dialogue to destress.  Usually, I'm not even sure I'm present enough to wave to the people I pass along the way.  Nope - instead, I spend 30 minutes or so thinking "Oh, I'm gonna tell everyone this," or "Oh, I have a terrific question for my Chubby Chasers!" or "Don't forget to tell them blah, blah, blah."

So, even when I'm not actively talking to you, updating my FB page or blogging, I carry each and every one of with you with me throughout the day.  When I'm proud of something, you all silently applaud me in my head.  When I'm having a rough spot, I anticipate the kind, supportive, comforting or encouraging words that you all have waiting for me.  And, when I don't have the will power to push myself, you all coax and cheer me on.  I've spent 30 years looking for the magic diet or work out or gym or pill that would solve my weight problem, but I'm starting to think it was this kind of support that I've been missing all these years.  Sure, family and friends always encourage you and want the best for you...but you aren't able to get feedback from each and every one of them multiple times a day, so it's a little different.  You all are the magic I've been looking for!

You are My Precious!!!!!

 

But, enough about you...let's talk about me.  lol

 

Before my walk, I looked into my cardio trainer app and was surprised to see that I burned more calories walking slower/longer than I had walking faster for less time.  My 18 minute mile yesterday did not have a postive impact on the calories I burned.  :o(

 

At the beginning of my walk, I noticed that I was experiencing some discomfort in my right foot, heel, ankle and shin.  It's wasn't painful or disabling, just a little sore from exercising yesterday.  (Even after my morning workout, I ended up doing more walking than usual just in the process of getting things done for the day...)  In addition, it was so hot and humid that I felt as if I was trying to breathe underwater.  You know how inhaling steam can help clear up chest congestion?  It actually started to have the same affect on me - honestly.  But, I honestly thought about this little quote I had on Pinterest and just smiled.

 





With all of these factors in mind, I decided - instead of pushing myself to increase my speed today - that I would instead focus on increasing my time & distance.

 

I was unable to sleep more than an hour last night, so not even my playlist could get me quite as enthused as I had hoped.

 

I thought:  Today's walk is going to be harder than yesterday.  It's not going to be as enjoyable or invigorating.  But boy - everyone is going to be so much prouder that I pushed myself through it!

 

And that's what kept me going...ever time my cardio app would tell me my speed or my distance or my time, I'd think of how proud my Chubby Chasers would be that I kept on going in spite of everything and, eventually, I forgot that my foot and heel and ankle and shin were ever hurting.  It wasn't enjoyable, but I still wasn't in a rush for it to end because each tenth of a mile and each minute was a tiny victory for me, and I celebrated with a momentary smile before huffing on.

So, with all of this said and done, how did I do?

 

39.79 Minutes

1.97 Miles

387 Calories Burned

Average 2.9 mph

3,172 Steps

 

Not too shabby, am I right?  lol 

 

Plus, I noticed during today's walk that the shirt I chose to work out in because it was loose and comfortable...is now too loose and uncomfortable.  It was continuously falling off my shoulders and - as I swung my arms with each step - I noticed I could feel the skin of my arms rubbing against the skin of my rib cage because the sleeves were too baggie.

 

Rest in Peace, comfy baggie workout shirt.  :o(  tee hee hee

 

There was one other factor that was motivating me to push myself through this morning's walk.  Today is weigh-in and, I must sadly report a 7.6 lb weight gain since last Monday.  :o(

 

 

I absolutely could not believe it, so I weighed myself over and over again and - although the scale did go lower and lower each consecutive time - it ultimately proved that I did indeed gain weight this week.

 

Of course, it was disappointing and disheartening.  And, of course, I take it very seriously.  (I just thought of something - if an event can be disheartening...can it also be heartening? I so need to look that up later...)

 

However, without making excuses, I must also acknowledge the possibility that I could be retaining water, I may be PMSing or any other number of factors that could account for the weight gain.  Ultimately, sitting around and moping about it isn't going to fix anything.  If I really have gained almost 8 lbs, I seriously, seriously doubt that it is all water weight...I'm just trying to be realistic without being too hard/too easy on myself.

 

Instead...now that I'm over the bronchitis and both of my parents are on their way to recovery...I've rebooted myself.  Introducing, CHUCHI 2.0!  I was starting to slack off on things a little more each day...it was just so much easier to order fast food while I've been running around and, since I was staying under my calories, I kept forgiving myself for little splurges.  Thankfully, this was the wake up call that I needed to get my butt back in gear!  Hallelujah - I've been saved!   tee hee hee

For those of you challenging me this month - don't go thinking your off this hook cuz I fully intend to lose this weight and STILL come after you money!!!  So, get those wallets ready!  lol







Day 41 1/5: A Happy Dad and ROCKING Walk!

First of all, a quick update on mom and dad.  A family friend loaned us a wheelchair, which not only made it MUCH easier to get my mom around but added to my workout, as I had to lift the heavy thing in and out of the car and wheel her around.  Plus, once I got her to my dad's room and situated into the guest chair, I sat down in it and wheeled myself around for the remainder of the visit - even if I just ended up wheeling myself back and forth inside the room, I was constantly moving for a good couple of hours.  :o)

My Dad's a clean freak - at home, he never takes less than two showers a day and always smells like men's cologne.  Unfortunately, he is on a strict "no shower" policy right now due to the incision.  Plus, due to the unhelpfullness of the rehab facility, they've been telling him that they have no wash cloths or shampoo.  So, yesterday, I poured some shampoo into a wash cloth and packed it into a plastic bag along with his trimmer.  Therefore, when not tooling around in the wheelchair, I spent my time washing, drying and brushing his hair, helping him brush his teeth and shave, and even shaved his back for him.  :o)  (My father has turned into a hairy beast of a man!  lol)  It seemed to really have a positive affect on his outlook.  In addition to being a goofball and making my parents laugh not stop, it was a very nice visit and felt like it helped put everyone in a good mood.

I have not been sleeping well for the past week so, last night, I gave up and took a single Tylenol PM to help me get to sleep at a decent time.  Then, I set my alarm clock for 5 am and took a caffeine pill before going back to sleep.  I DO NOT like or encourage people to set their inner clocks with the use of pills - however, with my return to work this upcoming Tuesday, I really needed help to get my body back on track.  The sleepless nights until 5 am and then sleeping until noon was starting to take a toll.  I know there are other ways to do it but I have enough on my mind right now that I really didn't feel like putting any more effort into it for the time being.  :o\  It was a one time thing and, now that life should slowly be returning to normal, it should no longer be a problem.  :o)

As I was saying, I woke up at 5 am, took a caffeine pill and then went back to sleep for an hour while I waited for the pill to take affect.  I reset my clock for six with the intention of going for a sunrise walk - but the thunder and lightning didn't seem to be in sync with my plans.  Instead I woke up, took care of my pets, took care of my mom (who was sleeping peacefully in her recliner) and did a few other things around the house.  I also ate some oatmeal to help load up on carbs and to balance out my blood sugar.

  The weather was reported to be a delightful 77 degrees outside, but with a humidy level of 90% and increasing chances of rain and thunder storms.  By 11:30 am, the sky was overcast but the rain had yet to fall.  I woke up my mom to check on her, make sure that she didn't need anything and to let her know that I was going for a walk - then I went for a walk in the park for the first time in over a week.  (I've been fitting in walks through hospitals, parking lots and rehab facilities - but this was the first intense walk I've had a chance to take in a while.)

It was hard getting out there, but it felt so good once I started!  My playlist was fantastic today!  Two minutes in I found myself walking 3.7 mph while rocking out to Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit".  I don't know WTH that song means, but the sound is awesome!

 

 

Britney Spears "If You Seek Amy" and "You Wanna Piece of Me" followed that up and helped me to maintain my pace as I bee-bopped on my way through the park  I mean, I had my arms swinging and my hips swaying while I grooved my way through my workout!

 

Because of the persistent chance of rain, I changed the track I walked, choosing to just circle a small parking lot that is perhaps 1/3rd of the track that I usually walk simply for the reason that 1) it is the closest part to my home and 2) there is a shelter with bathrooms at one end, in case I needed to quickly get out of the weather.  I actually think I preferred this track because it is entirely paved, unlike the sandy, broken up and rocky parts of the longer track that always make me nervous that I will sprain my ankle, so I may take this route more often.

I managed to maintain a speed of 3.2 to 3.7 mph for more than half of the walk, thereby FINALLY beating my 19 minute mile!  I'm not sure exactly WHEN I hit the mile mark because my phone app didn't announce it, but I checked the screen at 18 minutes it and I was already at 1.02 miles.  Therefore, I'm estimating that I hit the mile mark somewhere between 17.5 and 18 minutes.  YAY!

 

I felt so freaking incredible - not only was I walking faster and pushing harder than ever before, but my breathing was great and I was having so much fun rocking out to my music that it didn't even really feel like work!  I tried to be smart and slow my pace down gradually during the last ten minutes as a "cool down" period, but according to my app, I was completely comfortable at a 2.9 or 3 mph pace.  All in all, my stats were as follows:

1.54 Miles Walked
Avg Speed of 3.2 mph
Max Speed of 3.7 mph Reached
Min Speed of 2.7 Reached (at 27 minutes in)
2,479 Steps
30 Minutes

Even though I immediately started drinking some Vitamin Water to refresh my electrolytes and had some almonds prepared for a protein snack, I still experienced a little dizziness after the walk.  According to Livestrong.com, this could be because I was dehydrated, because I didn't completely cool down well enough to level out my blood pressure or because my morning oatmeal was not enough to level out my blood sugar, so now I know I need to monitor all of the above before my next walk.  But still - IT WAS SO INVIGORATING!  Can't wait to get out there and do it all again.

Oh, and by the way - I don't know how much of it was humidity and how much of it was sweat, but I was drenched by the end of the 30 minutes.  Let me just say - I don't know what romance writers are going on and on about because there is absolutely NOTHING sexy about "naked bodies glistening with perspiration".  After today, I will never buy that load of crap again!  lol

Day 40: LET'S GET PHYSICAL!

So, after having the torture device pictured above for a couple of months, my brother and sister-in-law discovered that it was not being used in their home and, as a sign of support, they donated it to me.

I've been good lately: had some honey garlic chicken for brunch, snacked on some grapes later and then had one of the IHOP's "Simple and Fit" omelets with a small bowl of fruit.  That put me at less than 1,000 calories for the day, and I try not to go under 1,200 (since that is supposed to put you into starvation mode).  She didn't realize it at first, but her order came with pancakes that she had no intention of eating.  So, when the waitress asked which pancakes she wanted and mentioned that they currently had the New York Cheesecake Pancakes - I HAD to have them.  If you haven't tasted these things, smothered in Strawberry Syrup...you have not yet tasted heaven.

After helping my mom out to our car and throwing her walker into the back, I told her "Be right back" and closed the door - then proceeded to jog laps around the car while she sat inside cracking up laughing.  It's sad to say that I was out of breath after two laps, but so was she from laughing, so s'all gud.

To be honest, even with the pancakes and the syrup, I came in at 858 calories under my suggested goal for the day - and I haven't indulged in anything sweet for a while - so I have no regrets.  However, I do feel bad that I haven't been getting in as much exercise as I want to so - when we got home, I remembered that this machine was in the back of my mom's van and I ran out to get it.

I set it up in the living room and tried it out.  Now, if you haven't seen this particular contraption before, you put your knees into the two black knee pads at the bottom and then swing your hips back and forth around the perimeter of the machine.  DEAR LORD, I was squealing like I was on a flipping roller coaster!  First of all, I can't just use my arms to get started - I literally have to swing my ass to get going like a freaking wrecking ball!  My mom started laughing at me all over again, insisting that I turn on the light so that she could see better.

Then, this contraption has another workout option.  If you look between the knee pads, there is a little, silver colored bar that holds them in place but, if you remove this bar, then your knees go in OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS, leaving you sprawled out over the damn machine like some kinky Gynocologist trip gone all wrong!  My mother was literally laughing at me so hard that she was in tears.  Furthermore, she thought that it was so funny that she's made me promise to make a "Workout Video" for my beloved Chubby Chasers.  So, if everything goes right, expect your first Chuchi Fitness video to be uploaded sometime tomorrow night!

 



Now, for those of you following up on my parents, my mom is still in a constant state of pain - even more so now that she's trying to put off using her last two pain pills.  On the other hand, she is beginning to maneuver a lot better with the walker and seems to need less help getting back and forth in short distances, though she still relies on me for the simple tasks that just take her to long to accomplish (ie: getting a glass of water, feeding our cats, etc).

I am not crazy about my father's rehabilitation facility.  Although everyone there is "nice" - that doesn't seem to be enough to get the job done.  First of all, my father's a big man.  The aide attempts to wrap a normal sized blood pressure cuff around his arm, despite my father and I both telling her that it will just pop off.  But, as if we don't know what the hell we are talking about, she puts the small cuff on and attempts to *hold* it closed.  Of course, the suckers pops right off, so she disappears to look for another cuff.
Then, she brings in a chair that is supposed to weigh him, but he has no walker or wheelchair in order to get out from his bed and over the scale.  She searches high and low (in a REHAB FACILITY) and finally steals a chair from another patient's room.  The chair - which is too small for my father - does not even have the foot rests on it.  So, my father has to rest his bad leg atop his good ankle and skim his feet on one heel as she wheels him down this long hallway to another scale.  Once there, she has to steal ANOTHER patient's walker in order for my father to get out of the wheelchair and onto the scale.

About an hour after my father arrived, I asked the nurse if they had recieved the order from the hospital, and she told me she had four patients to admit and that she hadn't gotten to it yet. With an hour before he was due for his dosage (and he was already in incredible pain from the move), I was told that the hospital did not transfer the order for my father's pain medication.  After spending a half hour freaking out, complaining to the hospital and leaving a message on his doctor's personal cell phone, his doctor calls me back to advise that the rehab facility already HAD the order - the nurse just didn't look through the chart properly. 

I had just left the facility five minutes ago, so I called back and asked to speak to him, only to be told that I couldn't because no calls were allowed after 8 pm.  I explained the situation and told the operator that it was urgent that I speak to my father in regards to his medication, and the operator told me I would be transferred.   Instead of my father answering, I get a woman, and again explain that I want to reach room 312, so she says she would transfer me.  Instead, I end up with the same unpleasant operator with the thick accent!  I explained that I was the same girl who JUST left and that it was urgent that I speak with my father in regards to his medications.  The operator tells me again that I can not speak to my father, and that is why I was transferred to the pharmacy.  I said "I don't want to speak to the pharmacy, I want to speak to my father!  And, regardless what the facility's 'rules' are, I am telling you that this is urgent about his medication!"  He says "Let me transfer you to the pharmacy." And the next thing I know, I'm back on hold.  I'm a little disappointed that he was unable to hear the string of expletives that came out of my mouth as I hung up on him, just as I'm disappointed that you can not slam a cell phone to hang it up like you can and old fashioned telephone.  There's just something so much more satisfying about slamming a reciever after a bad call...

I bring my mom in today and, while I park the car, my mom asks the front desk if there might be a wheelchair I can use just to get her to my father's room.  Again, I grit my teeth as I repeat - THIS IS A REHABILITATION FACILITY!  They should have wheelchairs in every freaking corner!  And, they are not even AT full capacity - at least half the rooms appear to be empty!  But the receptionist immediately informs my mother that there are no wheelchairs available.  So my mom - balancing on her bad foot with her walker - kindly asks if there is any one else the receptionist might be able to ask for one.  (I had already warned my mother that it was a long walk).  I come in just in time to hear the receptionist say "That's what I told her."  She hangs up the phone and informs my mom that there are no wheelchairs available in the entire facility - which is obviously a load of crap.  I tell my mom that the elevator is nearby, and that I will make another attempt to get her a wheelchair when we get to my father's floor.

On the third floor, I ask the nurse's desk if there are any wheelchairs available that I could borrow just long enough to wheel my mom down the hall, and without batting an eye, they say "Oh, you're the one the receptionist called about.  No, we don't have any."

By now, having heard about the trouble I experienced yesterday and seeing the kind of "help" we are receiving today - my mom is getting pissed and audibly griping about needing to transfer my father to another location.  I feel terrible - my mom is in pain and there is absolutely nothing in my power I can do to help but walk by her side as she shuffles down the hallway.  "Can I just borrow one of your office chairs real quickly?  I'll bring it right back."  I ask, noting the numerous unused chairs behind the desk.  One of the ladies laughs at me "We can't do that, it's a safety hazard."  Although we normally respect people who have to follow rules and regulations, my mom and I have about had it.  "It'll be a safety hazard when I fall on my ass in the middle of the hallway because nobody could help us."  My mom mumbled as she hobbled another couple of steps.

"Do you need a wheelchair?"  Some lady asks as she comes up behind us.  "Yes, please!" My mom nearly shout in unison.  "Give me on second."  The lady says as she begins rushing ahead of us.  I follow along, eager to get the chair and run it back to her.  At first, we thought she was one of the nurses - but a moment later, I saw her visitor tag and realized she was just visiting the woman next door to my dad.  Just like the day before - there were no foot rests on the wheel chair, so my mom had to literally hold her legs up while I rushed her down the hallway and into my dad's room.  I quickly got her settled into the only chair and rushed the chair back to the room next door.  Now, I've already mentioned that these are private rooms - so why did this one woman need the two wheelchairs that were in her room.  In fact, looking quickly around at the other nearby rooms - each of them had a vacant wheelchair just sitting by the door, waiting to be used.  Had the nurses and aides been even REMOTELY helpful, any one of those chairs could have been borrowed log enough to get my mom to my father's room.  I literally had that wheelchair for less than five minutes before it was returned.

A little later, although he was given the normal "care kit" - complete with mouthwash, toothbrush, toothpaste, etc - he did not recieve any soap or shampoo.  Becuase of his sutures, he's not allowed to take a full out shower yet, but my mom and I wanted to try to clean his hair in the bed so that he would feel a little better.  So, I asked the aide for some shampoo.  She looked for a good fifteen minutes before reporting that only the morning shift was allowed to have shampoo - the night shift didn't have access to it - so we'd have to wait till the next day.  Seriously?  Who comes up with this shit?

My father also has this device for his knee - it's a small cooler that connects to this pump and it circulates ice cold water around his knee to help reduce pain and swelling.  During my mom's visit, his pain was becoming unbearable - he was constantly wincing and trying to move to a more comfortable position.  Talk with him became impossible because he couldn't focus and - ultimately - my father began to tremble.  This has happened a few times since Monday - when my father's pain becomes intolerable, he begans to shiver...as if he's going into shock.  She had just given him a pain pill but, since those tend to take a little bit of time to kick in, he really needed this ice machine to help dull the pain. 

Now, this may all sound like my mom and I are being a big pain in the butt, but first of all - this is someone I love!  Of course I want them to be taken care of properly!  And secondly, my parents have been in the hospital a lot over the years and any nurse that's learned to work with him has ultimately LOVED me because I end up making their job a lot easier.  I've given my mom sponge baths, I've helped my father change his clothes, I've taken care of getting their ice and water or emptying the catheter bags (I don't know what that is called).  In other words, if they will allow me to help, I generally make their jobs a helluva lot easier.  I don't want to work them to death - just tell me what to do and I'll do it myself.  But, this place seems to have an allergy to allowing family and friends to care for their loved ones.  For example, I asked them for ice for my father's machine, and I was told that *that* kind of ice could only be retrieved from the second floor.  So, I offered to go to the second floor and I was told that only Nurses could get it from the second floor. 

A good 45 minutes later, my father has still not recieved ice for the machine, and his face is beginning to turn purple in agony.  So, I go down to the second floor and ask for some ice, and the woman at the nurse's desk tells me that someone just came for the ice and is already on their way to my father's room right now.  I return to my father's room and - sure enough - there is no one there with ice.  My mom and I pour whatever ice we can find into the cooler - the ice chips in his little pitcher, the ice chips in a styrofoam cup he has, the ice from the little thermos that my mom carries around - whatever we can do to help.  It's much, but it's cooling and seems to help a little bit.  By now, the pain pill is finally starting to kick in and my father's becoming visible drowsy, so we prepare to leave.  Fortunately, we'd made friends with a woman across the hall, and she kindly agrees to let me to borrow her mother's wheelchair to take my mom down to the lobby.  So, I remind that nurse that my father has not gotten any ice yet, I get mom downstairs, go back to return to the wheelchair to our new friend, and then run into my Dad's room to pick up our belongings and kiss him goodbye.  Finally - an hour and ten minutes after I first requested it - my father was receiving ice for his machine.

My mom and I asked him if he was happy there or if he wanted to move to another facility, and he didn't seem to have any interest in moving (too tired and sore to want to bother with it), but I am seriously considering calling and complaining to someone in charge.

On a funnier note, when I spoke my dad on the phone earlier, he told me that my cousin was there with another, unrelated aunt.  It didn't make much sense to me as to why those two people would be visiting together, but I shrugged it off.  When my mom and I arrived to visit and asked him if we missed them, he admitted - they were never there.  They've switched his pain meds since he no longer has an IV and, apparently, the new meds are causing him to hallucinate.  Sadly, he had some disturbing dreams last night but interestingly, he has woken up a few times talking but confused.  He'll say "Who's there?"   And wait for an answer, and then ask "Hello?  Who am I talking to?"  Only to realize that he's totally alone and talking to himself.  I think it bothered him a little bit, but mom and I teased him, talking to the other, non-existent people in the room - until he was able to laugh about it.

Day 39: More Boredom.

Dad has been moved from the hospital to a new rehab facility that is closer to our house where all he rooms are spacious and private.  Just hope the nursing staff is good to him - that's my only concern.

I think mom may be pushing herself too hard - she's been trying to move her ankle and cut down on her pain meds - but moving her ankle only seems to cause her more pain.  It's a vicious cycle.  When she calls the doctor to ask for a refill, I've asked her to request a prescription for me as well.  When she asked me what was bothering me, I jokingly told her that I had two pains in my butt.  lol

Drank a smoothie for breakfast, a salad for lunch and then some Chinese Beef with Broccoli for dinner.  I'm pretty sure that leaves me way under my calories for the day - but I'm too tired to care.  :o\  Besides, I doubt going under calories every once in a while will immediately set my body into starvation mode.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I might try to get to sleep at  decent hour for a change.  G'nite all!  I'll try to be more exciting really soon, I promise!

Day 38: A Pretty Boring Day

I'm very grateful to say that the doctor has doubled my pain meds, so Wednesday was a much better day for my dad.  If all goes as planned, he will be relocated to a Rehab Facility sometime Thursday.

I feel terrible, but I was unable to go to the hospital to see him yesterday.  Mom is starting to experience adverse affects from the pain medication - severe itching, headache and nausea.  Even worse, the pain medication does not seem to be working as thoroughly as needed as she is still experiencing a great deal of pain, though she is getting around a little better without assistance.

It's been storming terribly in my area due to numerous tropical storms brewing close by, and my father is a good 30 minutes away from home (in the rain).  Therefore, I made the awful decision to stay home with my mom yesterday as - if she were to need me - I would be unable to get back home quickly enough.  I hate having to choose between which parent to be there for, it's crushing me, but it comes down to the fact that my father has numerous professionals taking care of him and looking out for his best interest while my mom has no one but me at the moment.  Under any other circumstances, leaving a parent alone with medical staff would be a no-go for me; I'm very protective and paranoid and like to personally see to it that they are getting everything they need and are comfortable.  But in this case, I have to trust them in my absence.

Fortunately, I love this hospital and have very, very good experiences with their staff.  My family actually bypasses at least three closer hospitals to go to this one each and every time simply because it is THAT much nicer.  That's the only thing that makes me feel better about staying home.

I had a great dietary date.  I came in just under 1400 calories for the day, and that included feeling full and satisfied for the great majority of the day.  I messed up by snacking on some Special K Sour Cream and Onion Cracker Chips straight out of the bag - definitely ate more than one serving and caused my tongue to hurt because of all the excessive salt.  I've learned that, no matter how in control I think I am, I can't trust myself to eat things without portioning them out.  From now on, I either have to a) buy things that are packed in single portions, b) divide things up into baggies the moment I first open them or c) portion things out one at a time as I choose to eat them.

I'm having difficulty finding ways to work on at the moment.  The severe rain, thunder and lightning is making it unsafe to go for a walk at the park behind my house, I'm worried about going to walk at the mall or something (again, because I don't want to leave my mom alone for that long), and my mom is pretty much stuck in the living room, which is the only open indoor space I have for doing any other form of exercise.  I'm looking around the house for things I can use as weights to try to do some resistance training in the small area of my bedroom.

Sorry, this is a pretty boring entry I suppose, but cest la vie - what's a ChuChi to do?

Day 35, 36 & 37: One Looooooooooooong Day

Sorry again for the delayed post - every time I sit down to blog I end up being needed elsewhere.

So, mom and I had such a rough night Saturday that I ended up not going to work on Sunday.  Later that day, I called the HR manager to explain my situation and tell her that I would be unable to work my shifts for the week.  I started off by saying "I know that the situation I am currently in is going to sound unbelievable - but I assure you that I am not creative enough to make this stuff up...."  Luckily, my parents both have the same Ortho Dr and - after all the years they've gone to him - he's almost like a family friend.  So, I'm hoping to get a note from him explaining why I needed the time off from work to care for my parents.

Sunday was the last day that my Uncle was visiting from Arizona.  Since my dad had breakfast with him while I stayed home with my mom, my dad stayed home that night and allowed me to go visit with my grandmother, aunts and uncles for a little while.  It was a lovely visit and they've all assured me that ChuChi has their utmost support and that they all plan to donate further down the line when I need it more.

Sunday night was another rough one - I wasn't able to get my mom comfortable till about 3 am, and then I couldn't get to sleep for at least another hour.  I woke up at 10 am, frantically trying to get everything ready to take my dad to the hospital when he informed me that they had postponed his arrival for another hour.  So, I finished packing up what I needed and went back to sleep for another fifteen minutes.

At the hospital, I dropped my parents off and parked far off in the parking lot before walking the distance to get inside.  The registration desk was fantastic - seeing my mom with the boot and the walker, they loaned us a wheelchair for the day, so I got a workout pushing her around the long hallways from one place to another.  And, of course, several things were locked up in the car so I did numerous quick-trips back out to retrieve one thing or put another thing back.  Mom and I stayed with my dad in pre-op for four hours - none of us having eaten as a show of solidarity for my dad.  However, there came a point when hospital staff started coming in more frequently to do certain things and - between him not wanting his daughter to see his manly-bits and my mom in a cumbersome wheelchair, it just seemed best for her and I to get out of the way.

I eventually got mom and I set up in a couple of recliners in the waiting room and we snacked on slim fast shakes and grapes and apples and cheese sticks and plantain chips that I had packed for the day.  Dad was finally taken into surgery about 5:00 or so.  He was moved to recovery around 8:30, but mom and I still had to wait another hour and fifteen minutes before we finally got to see him again.

When we finally got to see him again, he was being a goofball, pretending to be more severely drugged than he actually was and talking about kissing pretty scrub nurses on their chin.  He was a riot, but the pain kicked in pretty soon after.  We got settled into a room around 10:30 and mom and I stayed for another couple of hours to help get him situated. 

 

My beloved, gimpy parents at the end of a VERY long day in the hospital.
Identities hidden to protect the innocent...bwa-ha-ha



 

After leaving the hospital, mom and I made a midnight Denny's run - since neither of us had eaten a decent meal all day - and made it home by 1:30.  Then it was time to catch up on the chores that had been neglected for the day and trying to help my mom recover from having had her foot down for most of the day (the swelling was horrendous).

I admit to sleeping in late this morning, figuring that mom and I would both go up some time in the afternoon, but I felt terrible when my dad started calling to ask for things from home.  By then, I had woken up, but mom was still terribly sleepy and in pretty bad pain.  I was waiting for her to get to a point where she would feel well enough to go visit with me (as it is wholey unlike my mom to stay home when my dad and I are in the hospital), but it eventually became clear that she simply was not going to be able to make it.  So, I made the terrifying decision to leave her home alone while I went to see my dad and take him the things he needed - promising I'd be back soon.

But, once I was with my dad, I felt just as terrible for leaving him alone.  I'm a Daddy's Girl and I can't begin to explain how heart wrenching it is to see your big, strong, heroic Daddy going through that kind of pain.  I was there while he was undergoing physical therapy and his face turned purple in agony - his body shivering terribly through the pain while the therapist worked on bending his knee and getting him to walk.  I hope he didn't see the tears in my eyes - both as he lied there hurting and as I prepared to leave and go back home.  Under any other circumstance, I have always spent the entire day with my parents when they are in the hospital...leaving just felt so unfair.  But, once I got back in the car and called home to check on my mom, I was reminded why it was so important for me to be home with her.

She wasn't answering the phone.

Immediately, my imagination painted a picture of her sprawled out on the floor only moments after I left, waiting for me to find her whenever I returned home.  Or, maybe she was choking on a  pill?  Or, maybe in her sleepiness she didn't realize she'd already taken one and overdosed?  My heart was racing but the weather was terrible and I knew I couldn't drive like a maniac.  Thankfully, she called me back and apologized for not having heard the phone ring in her sleep.

I don't know what's worse - seeing both of my parents hurting and injured and being helpless to make it any better, or being completely unable to be in both places where I am needed at the same time.  I knew this situation would be difficult for them and demanding on me, but I neglected to foresee how emotionally troubling it would be.

Dietary wise, this is EXACTLY the kind of situation that would quickly add five pounds but, I've been keeping to my healthy choices as best as possible.  Although I have eaten out three times in two days, I chose protein at Denny's last night, I had a salad from McDonald's for lunch today and had some Wendy's nuggest for dinner - so I'm feeling good with the choices I've made. I'm under calories, I've fulfilled my protein needs, I'm under carbs and although my fat intake was a little higher than I would like, Alli is helping me to keep it all balanced.  I managed to fit in a walk at the hospital yesterday while I was waiting around - plus a few minutes tooling around in my mom's wheelchair (I don't care what ANYONE says - wheeling my 341 lb body in a wheelchair is a freaking WORKOUT!)   And, since the weather and my mom's condition have knocked out walking today, I think I'm going to fit in some resistance exercises I found on the internet before bed tonight.

Monday was weigh-in, so I hopped on the scale before racing off to the hospital for my Dad's surgery.  I was disappointed to see that I had only lost 3.3 lbs, but then I came to realize that a) I still lost weight and b) I did it without even putting *that* much effort into it, so I am really in no position to complain.  Besides, at my current weight of 341 lbs, I've lost a total of 25.4 lbs in one month and I've earned over $250 for six different charities.  THAT'S FANTASTIC!  When you look at it that way, there's no way I can begin to be unhappy!  So I'm pumped now...BRING IT ON!

Hell, it's better than 366.4!  Whoot-Whoot!

Why Did It Take Me So Long: "The Crash"

In addition to my somewhat-daily updates, I thought it might be interesting to throw in some random posts from time to time as the inspiration strikes me.

As an overweight person, there are many moments you experience that inspire you to lose weight. Some of these moments may be a little more persuasive than others...or so you would think.  Other times, the exact moments that should catapult you into a healthier lifestyle have an adverse affect, somehow plummeting you even further into the abyss of overeating and obesity.

Of all the moments I've faced in my 31 years, this post deals with the one day that should have turned my freaking life around...and didn't.

Then again, maybe it did in some way...here I am thinking about it years later...perhaps it just took me longer than expected to start getting it right.

Either way...I digress.

January 17, 2005 I started a new office job for a popular catalog company.  Around the same time, I had just inherited my parent's 1986 manual Honda Civic Hatchback and had begun driving it to work everyday.  Driving a stick was nerve wracking at first, but I got the hang of it pretty quickly.

The trouble was that I was just so incredibly tired all the time.  At first, I blamed it on my sedentary new job - I had to deal with computer and paperwork and objects with minimal human interaction and I relied on caffeine pills and energy drinks just to squeek by.  I started finding myself sleepy on the drive to work - my head actually lulling at stop lights.  It scared the hell out of me, so I did everything I knew to do.  I tried going to bed earlier and when I couldn't fall asleep, I depended on sleep aids to help knock me out.  I woke up earlier and ate breakfast and showered trying to ensure that I was aware before I got in the car.  Eventually, as I drove to work, I started an odd ritual of screaming at the top of my lungs, pinching myself or slapping my face trying to make myself more alert.  It scared me, but I couldn't afford to lose my new job because I was "too sleepy". 

I just had to make it till May 1st when my benefits would kick in.  Then I'd have insurance and I could see a doctor and find out why I was so damn sleepy all the time.  That seemed perfectly reasonable.  I was a grown ass woman - I could keep myself awake till then.

As had become a habit, I slept through my alarm on Friday, April 29th, 2012.  It seemed harder and harder to find ways to wake myself up on time.   I cursed at myself for being too tired to wash clothes the night before and grabbed one of my mom's blouses, knowing that she'd forgive me for borrowing it without asking.  I raced around the house to get dressed, grabbed a Red Bull, my keys and my purse and hopped into my car, hoping that I would be able to punch in before I was late.

The adrenaline rush of waking up late and rushing around was short lived.  About five miles into my fifteen mile drive, the lull started and I could feel myself falling under - my body sinking deeper into the driver's seat as I drove.  In my first three months, I had already been late a couple of times and couldn't risk another tardy - thereby forfeiting my job with all of it's pretty upcoming benefits.

I followed my ritual - chug the Red Bull and then torture myself by pinching myself and slapping myself and pulling my hair and punching my thigh - whatever it took to keep my damn eyes open.

I remember turning left onto West Dixie Highway - a road that cuts across both streets and avenues at a diagonal, creating a very dangerous six-way stop at every intersection.

Then, I blinked.

I could swear that's all it was - just a blink.  But when I opened my eyes again, I was about five blocks further down West Dixie Highway with horns honking and a white truck in my peripheral on the right hand side.

I swerved to the left to avoid the white truck...it's odd, I can remember colors and movement, but actual details of this exact moment are a blur.  I can remember the impact, the shattering of the glass, the tearing of metal and the intense noise - like a freight train running through my brain - but I don't recall any pain.  It's weird how our bodies work, isn't it?

So many thoughts churning through my head in a second but I couldn't make sense of any of it.  Call.  Phone.  I need it.  Where?

Without looking, I reached lazily across to the passenger seat to pick up my phone and call for help.  This alone tells me how hazy my thoughts were, because I knew for a fact that I had forgotten to charge my phone the night before - but none of that seemed to cross my mind at the moment.  I reached blindly for my phone and was confused when I felt something hot and rough and hard...

Asphault.

I turned my head then and noticed that the right side of my car was gone.  I was assaulted my more thoughts as certain things started to sink in.

I've been hit by a truck.

My car is torn in half.

Someone else can be hurt!

I tugged on my seat belt but was too lethargic and still too confused to accomplish much.  Were there people standing around?  Were they okay?  Where they watching?  Where they on the phone?

I didn't know because there was something in my eyes.  It was warm and wet and I could feel it on my face.  I suddenly knew it had been there for a while, I just hadn' noticed it till now.  But, it was thick on my neck and it was soaking into my shirt...

My mom's shirt!  I ruined my mom's shirt!

I should have asked permission - this was one of her nicer shirts and now it was ruined by whatever was on my face.  It was getting harder to see, my eyes were gunky now and starting to stick together by whatever was collecting in my eye lashes.

Oh Shit!  I suddenly remembered that my Dad had left all of his expensive golf clubs in the back of my car.  I turned around quickly to see if they were in the backseat...but the backseat was gone.

No, not gone...just twisted...somewhere I couldn't see it.

I really hope I didn't mess up his golf clubs.  Damn, we just got him that set for Christmas!

Oh no...my car!  They just gave me this car and now look at it!  I'm such a f*** up!

I couldn't see anymore.  The red stuff was completely gunking up my eyes so that I had no choice but to keep them closed now.  How long has it been?

The mind races in these situations - time slows inexplicably so that all of this nonsense weaved in and out of my head in only seconds from the collision.

"Sweetie, I'm a nurse.  I'm gonna hold something to your forehead to stop the bleeding, okay?"

My forehead was bleeding?  Why is there a nurse in the road?  (I learned later that she had been on her way to work and just HAPPENED to be at the intersection in time to witness the accident.)

Time seemed to catch back up with me.

I've been in a major car accident.  I have a head injury and I am bleeding profusely.  Given my random thoughts, I more than likely have a pretty bad concussion.  I can't move my legs and my arms feel really heavy.  My car is split into pieces and others may be hurt.

I could die.

The nurse was holding some sort of blanket up to my face...I couldn't see it, but it had the texture of one of those white hospital blankets that they seem to always keep over the foot of your bed.  But, it was covering my entire face and - whether from panic or claustrophobia or asthma, I couldn't breathe.

The paramedics were here now - there were a bunch of them working around my car and talking to the nurse, but no one was talking to me...and my face was covered and I couldn't breathe!

Mommy, Daddy...I am so, so sorry.  I love you more than words can begin to say and I'm so sorry I did this.  Dear God, please make no one else hurt but me.  Just me.  Give it all to me...let me be the only one.  Please take care of my family...why doesn't it hurt?  Why don't I feel any pain?

I could feel my tears dripping slowly over the blood that was now caking my face...trying to find pathways down my cheeks that were not already obstructed.

"Ma'am, can you hear me?"

"I can't breathe."  I drug my left hand up my chest to signal at the blanket near my throat.

"I can't hear you."  He asked again, lifting up a corner of the blanket.

"Asthmatic.  Can't.  Breathe."  I yelled with the little bit of air I could muster.

"She's an asthmatic!  Get me some oxygen!" He yelled, pulling the bloody blanket from my head and readjusting it so that it covered my forehead and the back of the seat, instead of my face.  "We're getting you some oxygen sweetie, just try to calm down, okay?  Can you see?"  I shook my head no as a mask was placed carefully up against my face.  I didn't know how bad my head injury was, but they didn't seem in any rush to place the elastic band around my head to hold the mask in place.

"Blood."  I said through whatever breathing treatment they were giving me.

"Yes, there's blood.  Is that why you are keeping your eyes closed?"

"In.  My.  Eyes."  I wheezed.

"Okay, keep your eyes closed then and we'll take care of that as soon as we can.  Now, there's gonna be a lot of noise in a minute because we have to use a machine to help open the car up and get you out.  I know it's hard to breathe, but I need to put the blanket back over you so that you don't get hurt, okay?  Just try to keep calm and breathe in deeply and we'll get you out of here as soon as we can."

With that, the blanket was thrown over my face and arms and the panic set back in.  I tried to count my breaths and slow them down, but I was bawling now...scared and guilty and trapped beneath this constricting material and unable to see anything around me.

And my parents don't know.  I just want my mom and dad!

There was buzzing and the car shifted around terribly as metal screeched against metal so loudly that no one could even hear me cry.  Then, the blanket was pulled back abruptly.

"There.  It's over, okay?  I'm sorry I had to cover you sweetie-"

"It's.  Okay."  I gasped, gaining control of myself once I was able to feel the breeze on my face again.

"Okay, I know you can move your left hand, can you move your right hand for me?"  I wiggled my fingers and bent my wrist.  "How about your feet?"  I did a shuffling motion with both feet.  "Alright, we're going to have to put a brace around your neck.  It's going to be tight and uncomfortable, but it's going to help you so you don't hurt yourself, okay?"  I nodded.

The brace went on and the breathing mask was secured around my head as they brought the backboard over to the car.  They asked me if I could scoot from the driver's seat onto the backboard and then - to add salt to the wound - they told me to stop.

"Woah!  We're gonna need some more help over here!  Bring all the men over!"  They hollored to the rest of the crew that I couldn't see.

I was so overweight that numerous men who were trained for this exact situation couldn't lift me.

I had to listen to the men that I couldn't see as they grunted and groaned trying to lift me out of the wreckage.

I don't know what flipped the switch, but once I was on the gurney and in the ambulance, my sarcastic self resurged with a vengance. 

"Hey, I'm a lady!  Aren't you at least going to buy be dinner first?"  I asked as the first paramedic began removing my clothes.  In all honesty, I was a virgin - these men were going to be the very first to see me naked as a grown woman, and that was just a bit disheartening.  Maybe that's what made me joke around - it's a defense mechanism of sorts.  Or, maybe it was because I was suddenly certain that I wasn't going to die.  It may also have been the fact that they assured me that no one else was injured in the accident.  Either way, it got the crew laughing as they rushed me to another location where a Medivac Helicopter was waiting.

With just a sheet between my naked body and the rest of the world, they rushed me from the ambulance to the chopper and I didn't see any of it.

"What's the in flight movie?"  I asked my new medic.

He laughed.  "ER."

"And the in flight meal?  I skipped breakfast, I'm starved."  I said, thankful that my breathing was now under control.

"Well, you're going to Jackson Trauma, so it's probably road kill."  He joked.  "By the way - what hit you?"

I shrugged.  "All I can tell you is that it's a white truck."

I could see just well enough to recognize the bright flourescent lights in the hospital as they wheeled me into trauma, and to see the even brighter light in the room while several people looked me over and hooked me up to different things.

"This may be uncomfortable, but I need to do a rectal exam for bleeding.  I'll make it quick and it shouldn't hurt at all."  Somebody whispered in my ear.

"That's not fair, I don't even know you're name!"  I teased.

"I'm Mark."

"Can someone tell me if Mark is cute?  I'd like my first time to be special."

"Yeah, Mark's a hottie."  Someone else called out while everyone laughed.

My stomach was tight and I was ready to throw up, in all honesty, but Mark kept his word.

"Was it good for you?"  I asked afterward to hide my embarrassment.

"The best."  He joked back.

One of the medics in the far side of the room asked "What kind of vehicle did you hit?"

"All I can tell you is that it was a white truck."

"What make and model?"  Somebody else asked. 

"It was a white make in the model of a truck."  I responded cluelessly.

If it wasn't for the very, very odd predicament I was in, I would say I felt completely like myself.

"Do you have anyone we can call for you?"

My brain was working well enough that I knew I wanted them to call my father; I thought he would be able to be stronger for my mother when she found out.  But when they asked me for his phone number, I couldn't remember the cell phone number that my father has had for over ten years.

"It's alright - you have a concussion so it's normal for you to have a hard time-"

"You don't understand!  It's the same cell phone number he's had for years!"  I cried.

"Who else can we call?"  Someone else asked, taking my hand and rubbing my arm to try to calm me down.

The only phone number I could seem to recall was the house number I have had my entire life.  My mom was going to have to be the one to get the call that her little girl was in Trauma.

"Can I talk to her?"  I asked, hoping that I could sound calm and cool so that it would lessen the impact of hearing it from a stranger.

"No, we'll have one of the nurses call-"

"But she'll be so upset!  It will be easier for her if I call-"

"It's hospital policy."

It broke my heart to think of what my parents were about to go through, and I hated knowing that I couldn't do a damn thing to make any of it any better.

I was eventually taken to another partition for stitches and, lo and behold, there was a professional Plastic Surgeon who had decided to leave his practice in Arizona to do a trauma rotation at Jackson Memorial Hospital...and he just happened to be working when I was flown in.  If I hadn't just been in a major car accident, I would say it was my lucky day!

Thankfully, someone had washed the blood out of my eyes in time for me to see that Dr. Joe was a cutie.  I had yet to see the injury to my forehead, but it didn't hurt at all, so I could only assume that it couldn't be that bad.  But, Dr. Joe was absolutely amazed and even asked to take pictures.  "You never lost consciousness?"  I shook my head.  "And what other vehicle was involved?"

"All I saw was a white truck.  I can't tell you the make, model, license plate and VIN# because I was too damn busy trying to get the heck out of the way."  I responded to intersect the next set of questions I assumed were coming.

Although I could now open my eyes, the back board and neck brace assured that all I could see was what was put directly above my face - mostly Doc Joe (but I wasn't complaining).  I had two terrific nurses named Karen - having overheard one of their conversations, I referred to one as "Karen with the big dog" and the other as "Karen with the little dog".  They were great, checking in with me often to make sure that I wasn't losing my mind.  Karen with the little dog even came in to hang out with me because she said I was much more fun than her other patients.  The only other face I had come to recognize was Paul, the orderly who was responsible for moving me around.  They were all in the room when Doc Joe began squeezing saline solution into my head injury to clean away any and all debris, and then he would push down on my forhead to force the solution back out.  I laughed at the squishing sound that it made, earning me the nickname "Squishy" for the day.

That's why it was so unexpected when I looked up to find my Uncle Bob standing over me - a look of absolute heartbreak on his face.  I had been happily laughing and joking with the staff for an hour when he suddenly appeared, and it caught me so off guard that I could feel my face crumple as the tears began to pour down my temples and collect in my ears.

Once my parents knew about the accident, word had quickly spread throughout the family.  As a firefighter and a paramedic, my Uncle had the best opportunity to get in to see me immediately, and to get the most accurate information from my doctors and nurses.  So, with lights and sirens running, my Uncle and his team rushed to the hospital so that he could get in to see me.

It was hard to see through my tears, but I remember him tearing up as well and struggling to remain composed for my sake.  He told me that my parents were in the waiting room, as well as other family and friends, but that they weren't being allowed to see me yet until I had been cleaned and stitched up - but he told me they all loved me and were worried about me and assured me that I was going to be fine.

My parents sat in the waiting room for five hours while Dr. Joe meticulously stitched the wound closed.  I still hadn't seen it or felt it, but I was told that the laceration went from above my left eye into the hair on my right temple.  Since it was a very noticable injury on my face, he was determined to do the best he could to eliminate any scarring, so he would literally come in and do five to ten stitches on me, run over to stitch up someone's hand or arm, and then run back to do five or ten more stitches.  He was so meticulous that he actually took some stitches out and did them over again to make sure they were to his liking.  All in all, it took 130 stitches to close the wound - 50 interior stitches and 80 exterior.

He explained that the reason I never felt any pain was that the laceration went down to my skull, instantly severing all the nerves and pain receptors.  Furthermore, it was not a cut, but a tear.  As the car was torn apart, the ceiling was stretched, thereby pulling it much lower than usual.  As the momentum pulled me forward, my forehead hit the ceiling, tearing the top of my scalp back away from my face.  My head then crashed into the rearview mirror, knocking it loose and chipping the end of my nose.

With the stitches done, Paul wheeled me into radiation for X-Rays.  "Hey Paul, no one seems to have a mirror.  How'do I look?  Like Frankenstein?"  I joked.

He skewed his mouth and looked hard, pondering his answer.  "No, more like a baseball."

I swatted at him.  "Shuddup."

"You asked!" He smirked.

The X-Ray technician put me in a series of odd poses - literally taping me to the wall with medical tape to ensure that I held every awkward pose perfectly.  He was fun too - after one "provocative" pose, I told him to "Paint me like one of your French ladies."

Once again, I was laughing and joking when a loved one appeared - catching me totally off guard.  When he was done, the lights came up and the door was opened, there was my mom with a mix of love and relief and worry and terror all caught on her face at the same time.  And, once again without warning, the floodgates open as I sobbed "I'm so sorry I ruined your shirt!"

Yes - hours after the accident, that was still the very first thing I wanted to say to my mom.

Eventually, my mother and father were let in and then they brought in other family and friends one-by-one, all who had left work and dropped whatever else they were doing to rush to the hospital once they heard I was injured.  My brother left a job in Key West and drove three hours to be there.  My mom's sisters and my cousin came.  And, much to my surprise, a childhood friend who I had been in and out of touch with over the years showed up, totally unexpectedly.  As a result of my accident, she later gave me the Energizer Bunny that appears in my Facebook cover photo.

They all told me about the medic who came into the waiting room looking for them, just to tell them about the jokes I made during the helicopter ride.  They all agreed that it was a huge relief for them to know that I was still joking...as if they knew I would be JUST FINE as long as my humor was in tact.

Just when I thought this roller coaster of a day had reached it's happy ending - a police officer came in to answer the "Question of the Day"; the "white truck" that everyone kept asking me about? The vehicle that demolished my little compact car?  It was a City Dump Truck.  And I was issued a ticket for having run a red light.  Apparently, that was the major factor I had missed when I "blinked".

It was my fault.  No amount of stitches, pain, medication, stress, hospital bills...nothing will ever compare to the guilt and remorse I felt...I feel...knowing that it was all my fault.

It took a month for me to get over the hourly "what-ifs".  What if it had been a minivan full of kids?  What if there was a pregnant woman crossing the street?  What if it was an elderly couple on their way to a doctor's appointment? 

Every show on television seemed to feature a car accident, and that would send me back into a tail spin of first, panicking when they showed the collision and then, the guilt eating away at my subconscious.

I was fine in a car, but anything that came at me from the right hand side made me jump.  If a vehicle on the right came to an abrupt stop at an intersection, or if I was in a car that made a turn in front of a vehicle...anything out of the corner of my right eye upset my stomach.  To this day, I still jump and tense up when the right side of my car gets splashed by a puddle on a rainy day.  And I HATE driving near Dump Trucks with a passion.

I was released ten hours after the collision and made to walk out to my car because it was Friday, and my brand new insurance didn't kick in till Monday.  Aside from the partial scalping, the concussion and the small chip in my nose, the extent of my injuries consisted of severe bruising (it felt as if my insides had shattered from the impact of the seatbelt) and numerous cuts from the broken glass.  I am still paying off the $20,000 medical bill for those ten hours, and was later sued for damages that my Honda caused to the paint job of the "white truck", as well as neck injuries supposedly experienced by one of the workers.

Less than a month later, I went for a sleep study and discovered that I have sleep apnea as a side effect of my obesity.  If you are not familiar with sleep apnea, it causes me to stop breathing numerous times every hour that I am asleep - thereby preventing me from getting any real rest.

Had I never let myself get this unhealthy, this entire accident would have never happened.

After all of this, why had it taken me so very long to get to this point?  Sure, I made changes - I started trying to use a CPap machine to force air down my throat when I sleep (but I can't seem to stop taking it off while I'm sleeping).  I've dieted off and on and managed to lose up to 100 lbs a couple of years ago.  But I think the problem was that the entire incident only added to my anger and loathing of myself.  Maybe, subconsciously, I kept eating and kept putting on weight as punishment, or just to bury the guilt I've always felt about that day.  I'm no psychoanalyst, so I suppose I'll never really know.

Either way, I like to think that it's helping me to be better now.  Better late than never, right?

The passenger seat was found 20 yards away.  And the wire you see where the passenger seat SHOULD be?  That's the gas line - completely intact although nothing else is around it.

Dad's golf clubs made it out just fine, believe it or not.