I had half of a post written whose subject was the two Crepe Myrtles and one Magnolia tree s we planted in our yard last weekend.
And I just scrapped it.
I have vacillated in regards to writing about this, but if I stay true to my writing purpose, which is to share and offer up some of my life, the good the weird and the questionable, I feel compelled to talk a bit about my day yesterday.
This isn’t as tittilating as when Elizabeth Gilbert, author of “Eat, Pray, Love,” recently announced on her FB page that she had left her second husband for her best friend.
It has to do with my yesterday.
Do you ever get angry with yourself? Disappointed? Embarrassed?
Those were some of the emotions I went through, yesterday.
I had an appointment to see a surgeon, or as we call them in our house, “sturgeon,” about getting my gall bladder removed.
Unfortunately, the gall bladder isn’t like having swallowed a marble or penny, where you take some Exlax, and whoosh, it is gone with the wind.
My appointment was at 8:15. The card said to arrive 15 minutes earlier.
Because it was downtown in hospitalville, I knew I would have to leave early because Charlotte traffic can cause people some of the symptoms you hear about on TV ads for drugs.
I did make it to the surgery center, just about 5 minutes late.
First a resident came in and chatted.
That was the first that I’d heard that in addition to the gall bladder functioning at 27 percent, I had a “fatty liver.”
That got me.
Besides feeling crummy, I was sort of being nonchalant about having my gall bladder removed. Quick in-quick out.
The “fatty liver” caught me dead in my track.
I asked what that meant, in medical terms.
The resident told me that it can make your liver not work right and can lead to hepatitis or cirrhosis of the liver.
If I wasn’t ill before I got there, I was sick, now.
And as I listened to the resident talk, and then the surgeon, the self-flagellation began.
I have not been the best steward of my body. I have eaten too much, and in the last few years, eaten a lot of the wrong foods.
Many of you will scratch your heads and think, “Wow, I thought this woman was reasonably intelligent. But she is just a left stupid ass.”
I could give you excuses. If in therapy, I could come up with all sorts of “reasons,” but I am not sure if that would do any of us any good.
I have enjoyed cooking really good food. I love to bake. Those two things in themselves shouldn’t cause a problem. It is the overeating and playing Russian Roulette with my health that has gotten me here.
There have been times when I have been thin, there have been times when I have been fat. I have been fit and I have not been fit.
It is about the most disappointing feature of my life, or at least of myself.
I have also been very confused about what is the healthy way to eat. Low carbs? High protein? Low protein? You know the catch.
Where I have missed the boat is “Everything in Moderation.”
The surgeon, a woman, was very nice. She mentions how she had changed her life with diet.
She knew I was embarrassed by myself. She tried to make me not feel so much like a loser. She told me about a book that changed her thinking, her diet and her life.
She also mentioned that physicians were some of the most unhealthy people around.
She understood my confusion as to what “kind” of diet or eating program was good. She said that so much of the information out there is wrong.
While waiting for the nurse to schedule my surgery, I bought and downloaded the book the surgeon recommended. It is called, “Grain Brain.”
It was a long ride home. I wondered if I had finally met my Waterloo. have I eaten myself into an early grave? Could I turn this around? Do I have any bargaining chips left with God? God knows I have cashed in quite a few chips. I promise, if you get me through this, I will do that.”
And I don’t think I have often upheld my end of the bargain.
I didn’t cry then. When I came into the house and Nick asked what the doctor said, it was hard not to cry. i was embarrassed having to tell him about my failure at eating and exercise.
I went out and mulched the new magnolia and two crepe myrtle trees we planted last weekend. Pray was in just about every movement.
I began eating better.
One day down.
Hopefully, part of a lifetime, to go.
I am sniffling as I write this. Embarrassed. But hoping that some of you see. See what? I am not sure. That we all have our struggles? Well, I know that you know that.
I am in the process of rethinking and regrouping.
Now, I have to go for a walk.
Thanks for listening.