Health & What I Put in My Mouth

I love food. It, unfortunately, doesn't love me very much. I am facing some, shall we say, challenges in the health arena just now.

Up until about 2 years ago, I considered myself quite healthy aside from the fact that I've been overweight all my life. Then, I went on a "crash" liquid diet (through the HMR program). I lost 35 pounds, and then my gall bladder. Then I gained it all back (not the gall bladder, though. That's still missing).

Both of my parents have been diagnosed as having Type 2 Diabetes in the last several years, as well. My dad just had open heart surgery (see the post before last). My mom has heart damage as a result of taking phen/fen in an attempt to lose weight herself some moons ago. Given the health considerations of my parents, I went to see a doctor who specializes in working with two ends of the health and activity spectrum--very overweight folks on one end, and high performance athletes on the other end. Recent blood tests have revealed that I am insulin resistant, which is the pit-stop on the way to Type 2 Diabetes-ville. I'm taking medication, but haven't really noticed any difference in how I feel or in my weight.

I'm 34. I have a wonderful partner of 10 years, 2 cats and a dog, a great job, lots of friends, and--simply put--a lot to live for. Over the last year, I've been working out about twice per week with a trainer, and I've been making better food choices through meal planning. Despite my better habits, I have only lost a few pounds. My doctor now says there is "something off" in my thyroid levels, and so it's back to the doctor for me the week of August 7th. I know, I know. It's every fat person's dream to have a thyroid disorder--or so a hateful endocrinologist told me when I was 16.

We'll see what the doctor says, but in the meantime, my delightful partner has started a blog to document and process our adventure in treating my health issues with better, possibly vegan, food choices. It's so much easier to do what I've always done than it is to change, you know? But for my family, and for myself, I am trying and I'll continue to try.

Shame in Seattle

Sitting here listening to the news of the latest hate crime in my state - a shooter opens fire in the Jewish Federation building downtown this afternoon - I am appalled. News reporters talk about "what set off the suspect" as if any act, any word, any happening in that man's life would or could possibly justify walking into a building and taking aim. They say "Jewish people, be extra careful tonight" without any trace of irony or any acknowledgment of how ridiculous that suggestion is... Are we supposed to feel better that it was "one person" and not some orchestrated terrorist act? This makes me want to bray, or howl, or sob. My thoughts go out to the victims and their families. Shame in Seattle. Let's see how this city responds.

Thanks to Doc Kozzak for posting this photo on flickr and sharing it with the world.

Travel, but no vacation.

It's that time in life when parents start requiring some extra care in the health arena. My dad had emergency bypass surgery last Friday--chest pains, unsuccessful angioplasty, a last-minute flight for me back to the Midwest, a week-long stay for him in the hospital. He's back home now, and recovering, but how scary was that? Seeing a parent so vulnerable tilts the world a bit. I'm exhausted, and still scared, and ever hopeful.

The Namesake

Introducing Harriet. This is the gal. She's persnickety, aloof, and beautiful. She will ignore you one minute, and zero in on you the next. You'll see her question-mark tail poking up on the horizon, and the next thing you know, this sleek double-coated silver mouse-mouse face is in for the kill. The purring, the drooling, the tapping on your face with her mauvey paw pads... She is, in a word, divine.

Lies and the Liars Who Tell Them

I’m reading The Fabulist by Stephen Glass. Talk about an unreliable narrator; I’m ¾ of the way through the book and I haven’t gained any insight at all regarding his experience. OK, so he fell apart when he was first found out. Uh huh, I get it that his book is a novel not a memoir (and heaven forbid we confuse or conflate the two). But still. Give me a reason to finish this book!

As Mr. Glass tells it, he wrote his fictionalized articles, passed them off as based in fact, and went along his merry way creating and writing and writing and creating, without much thought about it until he got caught. But isn’t telling a web of elaborate lies more complicated than that? Isn’t the liar afraid all the time that she will be discovered? Isn’t he terrified that someone will see one miniscule loose thread hanging, and pull?

I understand that some create their own version of reality, and really believe it. I see this in cases I work on – someone has told herself the same version of the same story so many times that she really believes the story she’s telling. But lying in the written word seems different than lying in life. Not to say better or worse, but just different. If you lie to your friends, your loved ones, the barista at your local coffee shop, it seems to me you’d have to constantly monitor and track what information you give to whom, and remember it. Then you would have to run interference between those people, because if they compare stories with each other, you could be found out. But to essentially write fiction and publish it as truth—why and how did Mr. Glass think no one would ever know?

Once published, the writer has zero control over the product. You can’t monitor where that information goes, and try to control what other information follows. Sure, people may want to believe what they read. Yes, when you earn someone’s trust at the outset it may be easier to deceive that person later. But to falsify sources and invent events, and then to put that information in a magazine article and try to pass it off as the truth, well, I'm on page 219 and I still wonder: what were you thinking?

Happy Birthday...

No, not to me. Happy Birthday to this blog. I admit, it lacks focus--as do I. I am new to this whole blogging and posting world, so I hope anyone who actually reads this forgives the novice. Oh, please, another over-stimulated yahoo blathering on and on, online, you might be thinking. And you might be right.