Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Hiatus Over

It's been so long since I've posted. A lot has happened. First, I'll come clean. I haven't set foot in a WW meeting or tracked a single point for weeks months. You could say that I've fallen off the wagon. Hard. Nonetheless, this has been a period of incredible introspection and lots of mental work for me.

When I spoke before about my strange experience of recognizing the ultrasound technician, my discomfort with the whole procedure presaged something even more intense. I got a call at 6 pm two weeks ago from my doctor's office, asking me to come in to discuss the ultrasound results. We made an appointment for 1 pm the following Monday.
That Wednesday through Monday was one of the most difficult periods I've had yet. By the time Monday rolled around, I was convinced that I had pancreatic cancer -- something that runs in my family. I couldn't sleep or eat, couldn't think about anything else. I was gaming out how the chickadees would get taken care of if I were really ill or if I died, how my husband would survive, all that I would have missed. In the doctor's waiting room, I had a serious anxiety attack -- I couldn't feel my fingers or lips, my heart was pounding, and I was close to hyperventilating. Luckily, I do a very quiet freak out so I didn't embarrass myself totally.
In the exam room, when I talked to the nurse practitioner about all of this, she reassured me that I didn't have anything horrible based on what they know now. But, I do have a potentially very serious condition called fatty liver syndrome which, if left untreated, can result in cirrhosis and, eventually, liver failure. My liver is enlarged as a result of irritation (i.e., being "fat") and I need to have a CT scan to look at a cyst they found on my kidney. The doctor reassured me that the cyst was not cancerous -- that they could tell that it was filled with liquid -- and that the radiologist didn't even recommend a follow up -- they were just using a surfeit of caution.
HOWEVER, the important thing to note is that it is imperative for my health and future well being to lose weight. As if I didn't know that already. But the nurse practitioner was really lovely about it and assured me that they were going to help me to do it. I am to go in monthly to be monitored and to make sure I get and stay on track.
I left the office relieved and somewhat happy, if a little worried about the CT scan. I resolved to join a gym that a friend has been urging me to join for a long time (low rates plus babysitting, close to home). We were arranging a time for her to meet me there so that she could introduce me to the manager (she gets some kind of emolument for bringing in new members). I was preparing to go away to Colorado for a wedding with my husband, leaving the chickadees with my parents for the whole weekend! And then, I did this:

Yes, folks, that's a human knee. MY dislocated human knee. My dislocated human knee that failed me in the wet, slippery parking garage of a major big box store that will remain nameless -- but it's not the Arkansan one. In this parking structure of this nameless store, I slipped on the crosswalk and my leg and knee did things that no human knee should do. The pain was intense and I had to crawl across the parking deck, with my 3 year old chickadee screaming, "Mommy, please get up!" over and over again, while I treated her tender ears to words she shouldn't have been hearing (in between screaming myself, I mean). There was no one around (we were on the top level of a 5 level garage), so I had to get myself and the chickadee into the car, in a rainstorm.
And I've destroyed my knee. No fitness club for me these days -- but I am doing PT twice a week. Sigh.