Meditations on a Double-Wide Butt
Ever since I packed on the pounds a few years ago, motivation for exercise has been difficult. You would think it would be an intense motivator, but fatigue, joint pain and low energy much of the time have compromised the motivation. A recent event reminds me of how motivation usually comes to us - either by a good example or a horrible warning.
The past five days I spent being a support to a family facing a sudden crisis - a gall bladder operation gone awry. A mechanical engineer, father, husband, and beloved by many, Dave’s procedure was pronounced successful, until his blood pressure tanked, causing congestive heart failure and the shutdown of all of his digestive organs. For almost a week, he’s lain unconscious, on life support. One minute he’s building a tool shed, the next he lays unresponsive on a narrow hospital bed, with tubes down his throat.
His family and I muddle through the shock, numbness and grief. And we wonder. We know he hates hospitals. We know he despises injections and tubes. We have no idea if he’s going to pull through or not. He’s on half a dozen prayer lists throughout southern Oregon. He gets seen by several doctors a day, and we try to put all the pieces together from what they tell us. We try to stitch together some hope. He was initiating almost all his breaths the other day but yesterday it was only one in eight. He was managing to squeeze a hand every now and then but now, nothing. He is dumping more urine, a good sign that his kidneys are recovering, but the drugs are causing more fluid to be dumped. He has more color today. It’s a guessing game.
Dave’s history does include drinking and smoking and eating the Standard American Diet. I can take some comfort in the fact that I’ve never been a drinker or a smoker, and I eat way off the grid. Yet there is one image that has stayed with me from the hospital visit: the number of people in double-wide wheelchairs ambling down the halls of the cardiac ICU.
For some reason, that has affected me as viscerally as Dave’s fragile condition. If ever I should need a wheelchair, I do not want it to be XXXL. Is that weird? Is it prejudicial? I don’t know. I just know that if my ass ever needs wheels, I don’t want to feel like I could have a construction yellow “WIDE LOAD” sign tacked onto the back of it.
And yet hospital cafeterias are all stocked with high fat, high carb entrees, canned vegetables and unripe fruit. How is anyone supposed to get healthy - or thin - eating that?
I finally did get on the scale, to see how much I’ve lost since paying strict attention to my hunger and food intake. My total weight loss so far, taking Ladies’ Days into account, has amounted to a whopping 0.6 lbs.
I am sure it is actually more, since one has to account for things such as hair growth. And ear wax. But what a huge disappointment.
I am not going to give up the Meal Micromanagement at all, because it has a lot of merit to it. I’m just throwing my hands up in the air, thinking, “What now? What can I possibly do to encourage fat loss?”
A liver/gall bladder cleanse comes to mind. I had planned on doing one this past spring, but when I read about how a stone can block a bile duct, cause excruciating pain and necessitate an immediate trip to the hospital, I decided against it. However, with a nod from a medical intuitive who peered into my gall bladder and said it should be okay to do, plus seeing the painful consequences of what can happen if you don’t cleanse your gall bladder earlier in life, I’ve decided it’s time.
If any large rocks shoot out my butt, I will name them Dave.
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