Good health

Hey. Let's celebrate!

The fat lass is feeling better. Much, much, MUCH better in fact, and if she'd had to make yet a third trip to see the GP (thankfully two was quite enough!) this is probably what the response would have been.

Better, as in this morning saw my first attempt at going to the gym and weight training for over two weeks... and it went a lot more easily than I could have hoped for.

We had planned to go on Monday morning, and set the alarm ready to do so, but I woke up still feeling fairly rough. This was probably down to having been out for a walk on Sunday (only two hours for goodness sake) which flattened me again and led to more of those bloody blisters popping up in my throat in the evening. Hmmm, we decided discretion was the better part of valour and postponed it.

So... today. Reckoning it all up, I'd say I did about 70-80% of my usual stuff, all told. Well OK, I dropped most my regular weights down a notch (but only a little way and it won't take too long to get them back up again), and as a precaution cut down the number of reps this time around, but I used every machine I normally do (and did the cardio and floor exercises) and feel really happy to have managed it. Already planning to go back and do more on Friday.

Yes, I will admit that I'm feeling quite tired now after going, but this is nothing really and a nice omelette for breakfast and a sturdy cup of coffee will sort that out. The bug that I had - even if I still have no idea what variety it was - made me feel absolutely exhausted and incapable of doing anything much for near 100% of the time while I was fighting it, so this is a huge improvement. Boy it feels good to be back on track!

The nasty buggy beast did do me one favour, I suppose. The scales tell me I'm back at 54kg again, and have been holding steady for a few days. That is right where I want to be so I'm actually pretty pleased in a 'rather it hadn't been by this method' sort of way. I did drop right down to 52.5kg after three or four days I wasn't eating, not even soup or yoghurt (hurt too much), but I knew that wasn't 'real' and would pick back up when food was an acceptable thought once again. Thankfully, my darling lovely hubby is an excellent soup chef so I've had all sorts of 'goodness' (as my Mum would have said) in liquid form.

So, cheers me dears. Today I'm counting my blessings, of which good health is one of the greatest I can count, and it's onwards ever...

Not the finest start

I know things could be worse, but the beginning of 2017 hasn't exactly been ideal.

A rotten throat bug wouldn't have been my No. 1 choice to kick the year off. Ten days on and two trips to the doctor later, the second to get the results of a throat swab (not bacterial so probably viral), this bug is finally starting to relinquish its hold. I still feel like a limp dishrag (and still ache too) but actually possess rather more of a voice today - something almost totally absent for a good three days. Mind you, according to my lovely hubby and his kooky sense of humour, I now sound like Fenella Fielding.

The doctor also gave me the results from a panel of blood tests I had before Christmas for another little worry. Thankfully, all reported back as 'normal', barring one. That's one of the clotting factor tests and probably explains why both my big toenails started to go black for no discernible reason (bleeding under the nail) for the festive season. Oooh, how pretty! Also, why I seem to have picked up a raft of unexplained bruises and why minor nosebleeds have been a regular aspect of the last few weeks. The doctor isn't particularly concerned though, so I won't fret unless things don't settle down.

Then today, a further joy. I had not one but two emails to tell me that my applications for the latest jobs aren't going any further. I won't type the words that popped into my head. Nothing like kicking the fat lass when she's down, eh?

Oh well, can't change it so just get on with it girl. Here goes - onwards and all that jazz. Things have to improve...don't they?

Roller coaster ride

I am counting my blessings. Why? Well, I need to remind myself how fortunate I am - every single day.

As life tends to do, the last week or so has thrown up a variety of things, both good and bad.

Before things get difficult to write, let me kick off with the good side. I've started voluntering at a local Oxfam charity shop, done four shifts to date and it's been a lot of fun. I'm learning new things (always a bonus for me), meeting some super people, and being utterly amazed, in a good way and in a WTF way, at some of the things discovered in the donation bags. Seriously folks, there are some things that really, really shouldn't be donated.

Another good thing is that my weight seems to be creeping, ever so slowly, downwards and the scales reported 55kg once again this morning. I'm not counting my chickens as it could just as easily skip back up again, but I'm quietly hopeful.

The not so good stuff is a lot harder to write about as just thinking about it makes me tearful and angry. On a minor note I'm still looking for paid work, but my ongoing angst over that pales into insignificance given the news I've been hearing of late.

It seems like for some reason (time of life related, perhaps) that this is shaping up to be a particularly bad season, a crappy year. Several of my dearly loved friends have recently been given seriously bad news and are now finding they have heavy loads to bear.

In the main, these loads have taken the form of that bitch cancer. I won't, for their sake, go into any detail but my friends are having a truly horrible time, either themselves or with their immediate families - husbands, parents, siblings. For some, the bitch hid itself and didn't show its face so that it has been detected way too late - for them the outlook is grim indeed.

It makes me feel pretty helpless as I'm so far away from them I can't even give them a hug. I can be, and am, there on the phone, or by text or email, if and when they need to talk (and have the energy), and I'm grateful to be able to do that at least. But on a practical level I can't do zip and that's hard. I can't just pop around with a home cooked meal to take a burden off them, or do a bit of shopping, or... All I can really do is let them know they are in my thoughts and 'prayers' and be there if they need to unload.

I came across a quote from Chief Dan George which I feel is pretty appropriate just at the moment, so I've shared it below.

May the stars carry your sadness away,
May the flowers fill your heart with beauty,
May hope forever wipe away your tears.
And above all, may silence make you strong.

Finally, I mentioned a long while back that I'd someday post a picture of the tattoo I had done after I lost my darling Mum. Well, seems like the time, so here it is.

Onwards, as ever... but with underlying sadness.

Stalled...

Hmmm, feels like I'm pushing that damn car, and it's an uphill slope.

I am going to try not to moan.

OK, I tried that, it didn't damn well work, so stuff it - here goes the fat lass with a whole heap of complaining. Navigate away if you like - nothing particularly cheery about this.

Firstly, this miraculous IF plan doesn't seem quite so stupendous to me right now. I'm not saying it doesn't work and it isn't that it is in any way hard to do. Indeed, neither of us feel any problem with restricting our 'eating' hours to those between 11 a.m. and 8 p.m, to 'fast' for the remaining hours. Furthermore I don't think we've been over-compensating and eating more as a result, although that isn't terribly easy to quantify.

But, (oh you just knew there'd be a 'but' didn't you) we started it with high hopes that IF would help the needle on the scales move. Now, if I'm being 100% truthful I guess this has happened. Unfortunately not in the direction I'd hoped for.

I wanted to get down another kilo to 54kg but that isn't what's happened - in fact I appear to have put ON a kilo. I am back at 56kg, and that's where my body seems to want to stay. You can imagine the less than polite words that are sliding through my mind, so for now I'll just say Grrr!

Next up is the job hunt. Well, I'm still hunting as the interview I had last week didn't bear positive fruit. I was pretty disappointed, not least because I messed up a couple of things with the aptitude tests. Nervousness mainly - I know I'm capable of better.

I have a call tomorrow to get some more constructive feedback and I really hope this will help if another similar position comes up, but...

On a marginally more positive (and hopeful) note though, I popped into our local Oxfam book shop today and have officially applied for a volunteering 'job'. Cross fingers that I'll hear more later this week. They would train me and I'd hopefully pick up a few more transferrable skills for my CV. Hey, so what if I wouldn't get paid for it - at least I'd be doing something constructive, getting out of the house with some sort of routine, meeting people and doing some good in the process.

Looking about, I don't need to think too hard to realise that there is another blessing to count too. This is that my lovely hubby had his diabetic review this morning and all of his blood results (HbA1c, triglycerides, cholesterol, kidney and liver function) are good, great, and super. Even if the IF isn't assisting in this, it certainly isn't hampering either.

OK, I think the moaning and mithering is over - there is something cheery to report after all. Onwards, ever...

Blessings

Blessings indeed!

Jay heaven. Not only did we have not one, but two, of these beautiful birds outside our window this morning but there have been dramatic developments with lovely hubby's head overnight. 

He got up in the middle of the night to find that some of the hard, scaly crust on his forehead had begun to come away, leaving behind what looks like nice healthy (albeit rather pink) skin.

We're seeing the GP tomorrow for a check and I hope she'll be as pleased as we are.

Drama in the Shires

Well, this morning has been 'interesting' to say the least. We set off early today to see our GP to check the progress of lovely hubby's treatment. I'm really rather glad that we did.

We didn't quite get the response we'd anticipated. We've been pretty laid back about the state of his head, and had expected a calm 'yeah, that's all going to plan' type of reaction. What actually happened was that, when hubby took his hat off to reveal his scabby, crusty forehead, our GP looked horrified, asked us for a detailed recap (no pun intended) of what had happened and when, and then said she wanted a dermatologist to see him a.s.a.p. Oh!

She called in another GP (who had seen hubby at the start of the treatment) to have a look, who seemed equally horrified. They both felt this was a much more widespread and 'severe' [my word, as I can't remember hers] reaction than was expected. They were concerned about the likelihood of infection, and also a possible allergic reaction.

She said she'd ring the hospital immediately to speak to a consultant, and asked us to be on hand to pick up a letter to take to the hospital for an appointment - pronto. Alright, no problem, so we retired to a coffee shop and awaited her call.

When it came, no dermatology appointments would be possible for a few days, but she was sufficiently worried that her instructions were for us to go straight back to her so that she could photograph hubby's head and send pictures to the consultant for a remote assessment.

OK, back we went and, on arrival, bypassed the receptionists' desk (a first, if ever there was one - here in the UK the doctor's receptionist is a gatekeeper par excellence!) to tap on her door as instructed. Moments later we were in to see her again.

After a few technical difficulties - it proved impossible to get her phone to attach and send said pictures - we gave up and used my phone to send the photos instead. Then we sat in the waiting room until the consultant could respond, and did what you'd expect - waited. Not for long though. Amazingly, after only twenty minutes or so she called us back in to talk to us and tell us what the consultant had reported.

It appears that hubby has had some sort of allergic reaction to the medication we'd been using (this is now clearly marked on his medical records!), and it was this which had caused the rather dramatic appearance that we'd thought was 'normal'.

Normal, eh? I'm so glad we stopped the medication when we did!

Somewhat reassured, it was now possible to come up with a game plan. She has sent us away with a prescription for an antihistamine for hubby to take for the next month, and a large tub of a 'highly occlusive emollient' ointment, which is basically a thick, oily 'goo' to be applied up to five times a day for the next two weeks at least.

Oh yeah, also with strict instructions to see her on Thursday for a visual check, and to get in touch with her (which she really stressed) if anything changes. She also advised against him having the 'flu jab for a while. It appears his system has quite enough to cope with, without adding that to the mix!

I cannot express how grateful I feel. We are so lucky to have such a fantastic GP surgery, and such on the ball and caring doctors. Lovely hubby could not have had better treatment if we'd paid a King's ransom for private treatment. This is a very clear case of following my lovely Mum's advice to 'count my blessings'!

Addendum - if you are not of a squeamish disposition and would like to see pictures of hubby's 'progress' then the 'Inspirations' link at the right has a link to 'Gwilym' where he's been posting regular photos of his poor head.

Keeping going

Yippee, that grotty buggy thingy seems to be finally running it's course, thank goodness, and although not yet back to 100% I'm pleased to report that I do feel a bit more human.

As yet I still don't have all that much of an appetite (slight sore throat, a bit of a cough, and nothing tasting quite right sees to that) and I seem to become sated pretty quickly, without having eaten a whole lot of food. However, I can feel my interest in food increasing and my desire to eat returning, bit by bit, each day.

That's a good thing in one sense, but let's not break out the champagne just yet, eh. Looked at from another perspective it really ought to sound a teensy bit of a warning. Now this here life isn't all about weight, but - as a reminder to the fat lass.

Where I'd reached mid August: 59kg [9 stone 4 lbs]
Where I am currently: 55kg [8 stone 9 lbs]
Where I want to be: 54kg [8 stone 7 lbs]
...or perhaps just a little less

I still have some of that flubber to shift to get back to my former 'happy' weight, and stay there. So, as I do get back to feeling fine and dandy and being rather more active than my still-buggy body can handle right now, I'll need to make a conscious effort to be 'sensible' about what I eat. That is, I need a plan, a strategy if you like, to not go gung-ho crazy once my appetite is back.

Unpleasant as it's been, this bug's provided a welcome period of grace and enabled (er, more forced) me to get my weight down, from my 'aaaargh shock, horror' moment of a few weeks back and get closer to those old long-term comfortable levels.

What I was doing pre-bug was patently the cause of my steadily gaining weight, so I need to be honest with myself about my behaviours and set myself some clear limits, i.e. cutting out that sneaky 'comfort' eating (I know it really doesn't help with the worries) and restricting how much I consume.

So lovely hubby (who had also gained some weight and wasn't overjoyed about it) and I have put on our thinking caps, done some reading and decided that, in addition to being much more vigilant about our portion sizes (bye bye piled plates - let's see a bit of that rim!) and carb intake, we'll also give intermittent fasting (IF) a try. There seems to be some evidence that it might give us a little more help with shifting those last stubborn pounds, and keeping the beggars off, so why not!

There appear to be a variety of ways to 'do' this intermittent fasting business, but only one of them feels workable for us, particularly given the constraints of hubby's Type 2 diabetes, however well 'under control' it might be. That is to set ourselves a 'fasting period' and an 'eating period' every day, rather than consider skipping whole 24 hour periods of food to fast for a day or couple of days each week. While I'm sure the latter works for some folk, it doesn't sound attractive to us.

So, we've chosen a daily 16–hour fast followed by an 8–hour eating period. The exact timing may shift over time, especially if I start full time work again, but right now it suits us.

We're a few days in and so far, so good. We decided to skip our customary early morning breakfasts (I can almost hear the sharp intake of breath), exchanging them for 'brunch'. In practice, this means we eat nothing until after 11 a.m. We'll still have our main meal in the evening usually around 18.00 (6 p.m.) or a tad later, then we make sure we do not eat anything after 19.00 (7 p.m.). If we want to eat between these times then we could have a little snack, but so far we haven't felt the urge to do so.

Neither of us are feeling 'deprived' in any way, nor hungry in the morning (as long as regular cuppas are forthcoming!). Lovely hubby is monitoring his blood glucose every day and, happily, is seeing no signs of IF causing any problem in that respect. In addition to this we are both keeping track of our weight and will test our urine weekly to check that we remain in dietary ketosis. Every little tool helps!

Speaking of things helping - a slight side-track, but on a related note - starting IF seems to have simplified our day a bit too. We're not juggling fitting in preparing/eating our usual three meals a day with the time-consuming palaver which goes in to looking after poor hubby's skin. While we're confident that things are going to plan with his treatment, it is pretty hard on him. Anything we can do to lower daily stresses in other directions has to be a good thing.

The proposed finish line where my weight is concerned (and hubby's, for that matter) isn't too far off. If IF can help us reach it, and stay there, then all power to it. We'll keep you posted.

So for now, dear fat lass, you know what you have to do. You just have to keep going. Onwards, ever... and all that jazz.

Progress - and its price!

Well, I suppose the good news is that the downward trend is happening again and the scales registered just under 57kg (a shade less than 9 stone) today. I'd dearly love to take credit for this wondrous progress, but...

...well, I'd just be lying if I did.

OK maybe, just maybe, a little of the loss could be down to me (the fat lass hopes, crossing fingers that she hasn't completely lost the plot), but the vast majority surely comes courtesy of the nasty bug which we both picked up a few days ago.

This comes along with a sore throat and other, less mentionable, unpleasantries where the digestive system is concerned. Guess what - it has rather stomped on our appetites. Neither of us is hungry and nothing tastes good right now anyhow - not even tea.

Added to this is a distinctly unseasonal heatwave, making the nights, if not the days, pretty darned uncomfortable. Getting out and about and enjoying the late summer sunshine is not on the agenda at all at the moment.

I really, really feel for my poor lovely hubby. He really does not need this bloody bug because he was already dealing with a range of less than fun occurrences from this soi-disant 'chemo' treatment. He's suffering considerably more now, with sorness, itching, and not sleeping well being daily problems. His poor, crusty skin is a mess. Oh yeah, and even more of these tricky little keratoses seem to pop up every day - what fun! While we know things are 'supposed to' happen this way it doesn't make it any easier for him.

Looking on the bright side from my own perspective though, counting my blessings and doing my best to think positively, I guess it is at least helping me get from 'here' to 'there' where the scales are concerned. Not the way I'd choose, perhaps, but I guess it's still progress.

Another ray of light on the horizon is that I have an interview coming up in a couple of weeks. Not counting my bantams just yet, but I'll keep you posted.

Ho hum - onwards, ever...

Health... so glad we have it

Though it is only Wednesday, it's been an interesting week, and one which has reminded this fat lass just how damn lucky she is.

Monday brought news that my cousin is not doing so well, and his gastric problems (for which he had major emergency surgery a couple of years back) have returned. I don't know the full details yet, but am rather concerned for him.

Tuesday saw a visit to my new GP to discuss staying on HRT for a while longer [pleeeeez!] and also to see what could be suggested to relieve the damn nuisance which my left knee has become (an old tale, but somewhat worse these days - after weeks of shifting furniture and boxes I guess).

I went primed, having done some background reading as I was half expecting the extended 'increased risks' fight over the HRT as I've been taking 'my' version of mother's little helpers for more than five years now. I was dreading it, to be honest, as I thought this would be time to stop, and I still remember all too well how awful the start of menopause was... Almost everything I've read indicates that symptoms return, sometimes in spades, if you come off the medication - even if you are gradually 'weaned off'.

Thankfully, we were able to have a very sensible discussion, both about HRT and some possible alternatives. My lovely (female, and fifties) GP turned out to be pretty amenable to my continuing the status quo for another year, at least, given that I've not got too awful a family history and have done a lot in lifestyle changes to mitigate some of the more obvious health risks associated with HRT. Phew, so looks like I get a temporary pass on morphing back into Alecto, my old mate the Fury - that one characterised by constant, unceasing anger.

Then came the big surprise. A few years ago when I talked to my previous practice about my dodgy knee I was fobbed off with physio (which helped a bit) and an x-ray (which was a pretty pointless exercise for something I suspected to be soft tissue related). This time I was offered an MRI scan(!) to properly investigate what's happening - probably damaged cartilage. Watch this space.

Today brought another health related day trip, this time to the eye clinic with my darling lovely hubby. Wow, up here (a well respected teaching hospital) they are SO organised, and so 'human'. I know that sounds odd, but he was treated with care and respect and kindness by everyone we encountered, from start to finish. We were very impressed.

His somewhat 'chopped about' eye (after macular hole surgery, full retinal detachment repair and subsequent cataract surgery) was thoroughly checked over and found to be in a pretty good state, except that a small, leftover suture was discovered to be working it's way out. The consultant was not happy to leave it there and before we could think for a moment, having administered a local anaesthetic eye drop, whipped out a pair of fine tweezers and scalpel and removed it on the spot. Goodness, we didn't have time to worry - he just motored on and did it, and it was all over in a flash. Perfect, and some tiny droppers of antibiotics to take home too - not even a wait for a prescription!

The other eye was also checked very carefully as there was a minor concern about the scan showing the retina being slightly 'uneven'. With the history from the first eye... better safe than sorry, eh. Looks like things are OK though, and there is no sign of any new (diabetic related) damage to either eye. Thank goodness - we'll take that!

What made me pause for thought though was the number of other people there for their eye appointments. Everyone you could imagine, from mums with their tiny babies to very elderly and infirm people in wheelchairs, from an extremely smart gentleman in a pinstriped suit with a posh briefcase (a lawyer maybe?) to a poor chap who looked almost down and out. All there because they had problems of some sort with vision. The fact that I am absolutely fine in this respect and lovely hubby is doing OK is a big blessing, and one I must make sure to count.

So, that combined with the fact that we are both fit and strong enough to have walked there and back (there are hills here too) gives me some pretty amazing blessings to take account of today. Autumn colours and a little sunshine add a few more. Whatever happens in life, there are always good things too. Sometimes, when times are uncertain or challenging, I just have to be reminded of that.

Onwards and most definitely upwards...

A long road travelled...

...and boy, does it ever feel like it!

Hello world. Not sure if anyone will be left to read this as it has been such a long time since I last wrote anything but... if anyone is interested, I'm still around. Settle down with a cuppa kids, this is shaping up to be a looong read!

A whole helluva lot has happened since the last time anything got posted here, and if I can stand aside from the chaos for a moment to report back, the vast majority of that journey has been positive. Some stuff not so, and some pretty rotten (as life tends to be), but I'll get to that. Let's start off with the good stuff.

The move from our former flat and an end to living in the 'not very exciting' flatlands of Cambridgeshire territory went ahead just as May came to an end. Janey Mac, but that was a hard slog! However, my darling lovely hubby and I now benefit from land which has height as well as breadth. I always knew I'd missed hills, but didn't realise quite how much until we came to Nottinghamshire.

This is definitely a big plus. I really love seeing the play of light and shadow across distant hillsides on the walk downhill into town. I love the feeling of 'making an effort' walking uphill back from a shopping trip - especially carrying bags of heavy shopping. I love the fact too that I can do this relatively easily, and that probably tells you something as well.

Despite the multiple (and seemingly never ending) stresses of:
- downsizing (a LOT!)
- shedding much-loved possessions (aaargh - books!)
- making the move to a very much smaller flat in a completely unknown area
- knowing no-one at all
- quitting my job (hmmm, some definite pluses and minuses here)
- getting accustomed to being at home all day (for now, anyway)
- my lovely hubby's retirement and a lack of 'routine'
- finding 'trustworthy' contractors to rip out/replace a very tired and crappy bathroom and kitchen (all within our rather restricted budget)
- the dust, disruption, and glitches & hold-ups of the work taking place
- the joys of searching (unsuccessfully as yet, dammit!) for a new job
and SO much more, I'm still here.

Better yet (and I'm actually quite surprised to be able to say this), there hasn't been any significant change to my weight. Blimey! My clothes still fit me (now they've been unearthed from somewhere within the depths of a gazillion boxes!). I'm still fairly fit for an ageing former-fat lass too, as shifting furniture, those jolly old boxes, and so much more hasn't killed me off yet. Yes, I know I 'could do better' and could do with a bit of (er, lot of) toning but I promise that will come as life settles more.

I can happily report that, having moved to a new area, our health has been thoroughly checked out by a new GP practice. Hey, both of us are doing pretty darned well, even with our kooky way of eating which completely flies in the face of all NHS advice. Yep, we're still low carb, high fat and adequate protein munchers, and loving it.

We're well, that is... with one small proviso. We're waiting for an MRI scan for lovely hubby as there's a niggling concern about the underlying causes for his increasing hearing loss - the upshot is they are hoping to rule out something sinister behind it. This is a regular source of worry to me in the dead of night at the moment, but my tame angel assures me it'll all be fine... honest guv'nor.

But back to the positive stuff - counting those blessings that remain as a daily memorial to and reminder of my darling Mum. Oh yes, I did get that tattooed on my back by the way. I'll see if I can be brave and put a photo up at some stage.

After a bit of a shaky start I'm beginning to love our new home. Although compact and bijou the flat is fine - secure and warm, and a permanent place to settle for the future. Although we are not 100% done yet and still have the bedroom to de-box and organise, somehow, we have carpet on the floor at last (I could not have begun to understand the joy of this statement until we'd lived in a bare and echoey box for months!) and fresh clean paint on the walls. We now have hot water, a shower, a fully workable (and whizzy) kitchen, our beloved pictures on the walls and our remaining books beautifully arranged on the shelves (now this has made a real difference for the better).

We are a little way off a main road into the city so everything we could wish for is pretty close by, and the transport links are really good too. Great now and a definite bonus for the future as we get older. We look more or less southwards out onto an old brick-built mill building (converted to flats) across a grassy slope with trees gently beginning to shed their goldening leaves (in the sunshine at the moment and it is beautiful). We even have bats performing a synchronised fly-past each evening - now there's a joy to watch indeed. We have a colony of argumentative magpies visiting every morning to scavenge and squabble, and even the occasional visit from a jay and a couple of squirrels.

As life always goes though, not everything is entirely rosy. My dear friend is having a pretty bad time after her surgery (which thankfully went well) ever since the path lab reported back with less than positive news from the biopsies. She's now subsumed within a welter of ongoing and traumatic treatment, with none too jolly prospects and a lot of pain, and trying hard to stay positive. It's hard as there's nothing we can do to help in any way.

We also just lost a friend from our old neighbourhood, a little over a week ago. A lovely, smart, sophisticated, funny, incisive, gentle gentleman who was a real high-flyer back in the day. He'll be sadly missed, by us (lovely hubby was especially close to him) but especially by his wife. Again, it's hard knowing there's nothing one can do to be of any real help. Life really does suck sometimes.

I've been finding I miss friends and colleagues from my former life more than I thought would happen, so feel/have felt slightly isolated at times. Logically speaking, I know this will doubtless change when I do find work and develop some sort of social life (and by that I mean regular interaction with a range of people, rather than going out and about on the town) in this new area. Until then though it sometimes feels just a tad lonely - that means the dreaded black dog sniffs around whenever he gets a chance. At times he gets the upper hand, but thankfully not for too long.

Until I'm working again finances are a bit of a concern too, but these negatives notwithstanding I think we made the right decision to move. It's been a long journey, and one which isn't over yet, but on balance life is pretty good. I think we can settle down and feel at home here and one of our big worries about growing older (the old insecurity) has been lifted from us.

A very nice thing on the horizon is a visit from my sister later this week. She hasn't been able to come until we were a bit more organised and I'm really looking forward to a few days catching up, sharing time together and relaxing. Glad we always have the phone to keep in touch but a big sis hug is always best.

Right, enough of me blithering. As I usually say... onwards, ever upwards.

A very hard pill to swallow

I'm struggling at the moment... a bit of a dilemma (an internal battle) that's keeping me awake at night but one I know I can't truly engage in. This feeds into some of the anger and frustration I mentioned yesterday.

OK, bottom line - I have to accept that this is NOT my battle. What my darling friend is going through is fundamentally her business and she has to walk the path so she gets to choose which path to follow.

This is written with love, but I'm really, really struggling not only with what's haapening to her, but also to have done some of my own background research, partly at her behest, and come across something (and told her about it)  which makes SO much sense to me in beefing up the fight against this bloody cancer, but for her to dismiss the prospect. Oh Lord, this is hard.
[reminder to self: ALWAYS keep in mind these are her decisions to make, fat lass - not yours]

What I'm talking about is Dr. Dominic D'Agostino's research into metabolic disease. One thread of his work (in a fascinating area) seems to indicate that switching to a strict ketogenic diet can dramatically increase cancer survival rates.

Huh, you might say - why the heck does this seem a likely option? Well, setting any reaction to peer-reviewed papers aside, in an article for CBN News he explains the basics - in that:

All cells, including cancer cells, are fueled by glucose. But if you deprive them of glucose, they switch to the alternate fuel, ketone bodies.

Except cancer cells. A defect prevents them from making the switch to using ketone bodies as fuel and therefore, cancer cells can ONLY [my emphasis] survive on glucose. All other cells can use either glucose or ketone bodies.

One of the most challenging parts to me is that D'Agostino also firmly advocates hyperbaric therapy (a.k.a. use of a diving decompression chamber) in the fight against cancers, and that's something we've also discussed and she would accept... it just isn't bloody well available here. The F word is about to emerge again!

But...
Hell, fat lass, even though you think you are right and you think it would help her and it's a relatively simple and straightforward change she could make to give herself a stronger fighting chance... this is not, repeat NOT, your call to make.

So shut your yap.

Can this get any worse?

OK, I'll apologise up front for the foul language but I can't think of more 'appropriate' words to use. No, they're not for me - things here are crazy with the moving plans but with a positive slant. The 'worse' is for my darling friend. She was called in by her consultant to get her biopsy results early... I think you might guess why.

Yep, that bastard, bastard, bastard cancer has decided to leave the nicely contained security of her breasts (which was bad enough), take a wee wander around, and has now been found lurking in her lymph nodes. This new 'invasive' form it's taken is, as she puts it a 'total game-changer'!

Other than swearing a blue streak I don't know what to say, nor can I begin to know what to do. I'm so bloody angry that this can be happening to such a wonderful, full of life, big-hearted, lovely lady. We've been good friends for nigh on thirty years and I love her dearly, like a sister. I just wish I could turn back the clock and somehow change/shift/amend reality so this couldn't be. But I can't and it is what it is.

OK, right, I know this is still treatable (surgery plans will still go ahead, augmented by a whole helluva lot of post-surgical treatment), and I can accept that this isn't a moment to even 'think' about a 'black notice' but I'm so scared for what she has to endure and the effect it'll have on her and all her loved ones. And, as I mentioned, really, really angry. It's coming out in tears and short-temperedness for me. Tough cookie as she's always been, God knows how she's managing to handle things.

If you are the praying kind, please pray for my darling friend.

Struggles

Dammit, I really have no reason whatsoever to be struggling... but somehow I am. Things at work are not exactly sweetness and light at the moment and I'm seriously short on patience... hence the tee-shirt image.

Try as I may, I'm just not making the grade at the moment. I'm extremely grumpy, and also quite down - to the point of being teary. Blasted black dog is definitely on the prowl. A whole raft of nebulous worries (about all sorts of things) seem to be my lot at the moment too. Doing 'something' about it though... er, that's not really happening.

In part, this is because I've still got precious little energy (I'm constantly tired and still coughing) and have practically no stamina so, apart from a bit of walking, the exercise plans are still just that - vague 'someday' plans. Having lost a load of weight while ill, I now find myself starving of the hunger a lot of the time so capable of munching for England. While initially happy for a bit of a gain back, I am getting worried that things could get right out of hand unless I curb this desire to eat... anything and everything.

I need to get a grip, to get out of this dark mindset and see the positives. They ARE there. Remember, fat lass, your lovely Mum knew that all too well, so look out (actively!) for those blessings.

On this basis, I read a quote somewhere which said something along the lines of "if you are struggling at least you are still trying". I guess that is, at least, a small silver lining. Ah well, onwards ever...

Climbing back... slowly

Well folks, that little spurt of 'hey, let's be positive' didn't see me through very far. By Monday evening last week that chesty man-flu had developed into a full-blown chest infection and as if that's not bad enough, it has cheerfully kicked off my (previously quiescent) asthma. Hell, talk about being steamrollered!

So, the fat lass was a good, dutiful girl and went along to see her GP midweek. Came away with a bag of drugs and I've been on antibiotics and inhalers ever since. At least I haven't needed the steroids he also prescribed... not yet anyhow.

I can't say I remember a great amount about last week... other than coughing and other negative things. When I could raise the energy, I was very peeved to have been put back on the inhalers as it's been such a source of pride to me that I haven't needed them, after so many years. But, you know what they say about pride, eh?

I couldn't really complain though - having checked my peak flow (in between coughing bouts) it had dropped from my usual c.450 litres per minute to just a shade under 300. Not good, so just as well to enlist a little assistance. And the good news is that the medication is helping.

So here we are again. Another Monday morning back at work, catching up (or trying to) on a shed-load of missed 'work stuff', still feeling like a wrung out dish-rag, but at least I'm definitely on the mend.

What's really surprised me was getting on the scale to find I'd dropped so much weight - not all that far away from half a stone in a week! At my lowest (Saturday) I'd gone down to 51.5kg, just a few pounds over eight stone. In such a short space of time that seems extraordinary and highly improbable, but it's creeping back up a little as I cough a bit less and start eating a bit more normally. Hmmm, never though the fat lass would want to put weight on!

What I really want is a magic injection of energy. If you see any spare supplies looking for a good home...

Tweaks

To remind myself that any 'tweaking' will take a little time, as well as the effort... before the effects will show.

Hmmm, after a wee bit of head scratching my darling lovely hubby and I have made the decision to tweak things a bit and to reduce our carb intake even more and increase the fats.

This is because his daily blood glucose readings, although still perfectly acceptable, OK, reasonable and within limits, are not quite as stellar as they used to be (now in the low- to mid-5s rather than the mid- to high-4s). Nothing scary, just a noticeable shift over time.

Now that could be down to a natural progression in the diabetes over the years, despite all we're doing to migtigate things (after all, we have been told that it is, unfortunately, a progressive condition), or it could just be an unnoticed shift in our diet meaning we have been eating more carbs that we used to (and this'd be a bigger deal for him with Type 2 diabetes than for me).

Either way, we're going to see if we can make some changes and make a difference. Let's see what happens, eh?

Colour me happy, happy, happy!

Yippee! I'm not about to shuffle off this mortal coil imminently, it seems. Yep, got those blood results back and it appears to me that those lovely 'keto' gurus have got it absolutely cracked about the lack of 'danger' in eating plenty of tasty nuts, seeds, avocados, coconut, saturated animal fats and the like and steering clear of the sugars and starches (even grains - yes, even the 'healthy' whole grain option).

So, without further ado, but with a positively delighted fat lass drum roll:

Connie good, fat lass bad

Well, I'm delighted to say that I did get back on Connie, the lovely rower (let's hear it for good old Connie), and I have increased my morning times since. That's all well and good and I am really pleased with the way it's going. But, oh, if all of life were like that.

Unfortunately, there's a 'but' and that is that I seem to be battling a nasty case of the Januarys... or should that be 'oh hell, now what else can go wrong' January blues! This is mostly a work-related thing so in theory I 'should' be able to go home at the end of another (hassle-filled) day and forget it all. Should... not can!

It's been pretty full-on since that oh so distant festive break ended (whoooee, but that seems like an age ago now...) and things have not exactly gone smoothly since. I seem to be paddling like hell to get nowhere fast a lot of the time, and feel like I'm falling behind on planned work because of all the fire-fighting stuff!  This 'too much going on' has quite often stopped me getting out to walk at lunchtimes too, and I'm less than impressed. And the stressing and mild sense of panic also means I want to eat... anything will do. This is somewhat of a daily struggle.

Although I've mostly won on this 'eat me' front, so there haven't been any disastrous effects on my weight (er, yet!), all this doesn't do much for my positivity and, for some silly reason, I can't let go of it at the end of the day. I guess it doesn't help that often I wake up and fret about things in the early hours too so I have also been growing increasingly tired.

Worse, I'm taking my bad attitude, frustration and short temper back home with me and my poor lovely hubby catches the brunt of it nine times out of ten. Not a great plan for maintaining marital harmony. Thankfully, he's a very patient, understanding man, so I'm very lucky.

The more logical half of me manages to keep relatively calm and cheerfully say 'hey, all this shall pass' but, unfortunately, my emotional part has her fingers firmly stuffed in both ears and is singing 'lah lah lah lah lah' at the top of her voice whilst running around like a headless chook.

The upshot is this - I'm officially fed up with January. Could we give February a try please? Who knows, it 'might' be better!

To end on a more upbeat note, I've been for my mid-life 'are you going to keel over soon' health check and it was hilarous. It started pretty well when the automatic 'I guess your height, weight and blood pressure' machine decided I was two inches shorter than I actually am! Ho hum. OK, so we corrected that pronto. Not that it's a huge deal, but hey, these are 'my' records and a three percent error will make a noticeable difference to that jolly old BMI value you know.

Then I did a silly thing and apologised that my BP was bit higher than I'd expected (at 129/59). Hmm, must admit here that this was because the fat lass got a tad tetchy when the instructions on the high-tech whizz-bang machine and what you 'actually' have to do didn't tally = instant grrr and raised BP! Oh, the rather surprised nurse said, but it's really good and your resting heart rate (55 bpm) is great too! Alright, so our perception differs a little here, but never mind.

Then the weekly alcohol intake, exercise patterns, smoking, family health history questions came and went. All responses seemed to make her a happy bunny. Doing OK so far... and those bloods results (full lipid panel amongst other bits and bobs) are still to come back, but the reaction when we discussed diet was an absolute cracker.

I was asked whether I felt my diet was 'good', 'poor' or 'alright'. Now who's going to say anything less than positive, eh? I told her mine was 'super' thanks. She then asked if I was aware of the 'low-fat diet' advice so I said that indeed I was, but added that I totally ignored it.

Oooops! There was a sharp intake of breath, so I explained that I followed a ketogenic diet and this helped me maintain substantial weight loss (at this point she checked on my records to see what I had been, and 'ooohed' a bit).

Then, because she looked a wee bit bemused at this 'ketogenic' business, I started to explain what it was, i.e. low carb - yep, this seemed an acceptable thing to do, with moderate protein - er, I guess that probably seems OK, and that this means my diet is high in fat - WHAT!!

Oh dear, I'm not convinced that she (or her student) expected me to manage to leave the consulting room before I dropped like a stone from imminent heart failure. Hmmm, I think both of us might look at those detailed blood results quite closely. An interesting morning, eh?

Onwards, and a shade frustratedly, ever...

Be careful what you say, fat lass!

 Oh heck, no sooner do I mention that "I now suffer far fewer and less severe infections of all sorts" than I get bitten by a stomach bug. Grrr, typical or what! Hmmm, 'bottoms' seems an appropriate comment.

It kicked off Friday night and I thought it must have been something I ate to start with, but no. I can only say that an 'interesting' weekend ensued... more detail than that you do not need. Indeed it's only just getting back to normal(ish) today. Food of any sort has been way, way down my priority list, but I've drunk for England.

One of the few nourishing things I've been able to handle is good old beefy Bovril.

 

Childhood goodness reincarnated.

I've ached and felt like a wet dish rag, and although I have been at work (er, several people have probably wish I'd stayed away, since I've been pretty cranky) it's knocked me off the morning's rowing - damn it. I hate it when I get derailed, especially just as I'd started stepping up the times. Still, can't be helped and I'm hoping I'll be back at it before the weekend.

Maybe a gentle row tomorrow?

Do you think I'm getting old or something?

Oooh er missus. I've been invited to visit my GP's surgery for a 'mid-life' health check.

Now call me a tad cynical, oh, and downright bloody ungrateful if you like, but as sweet and nice and fluffily helpful and caring as this all sounds, it does seem to be just a shade off the mark to me. To be called in for a chat now, just because I've attained the magic age of 55, seems to miss the point a wee bit.

Why? Well I'd say I'm in better overall 'physical' shape these days than any time I can really remember so maybe a health check at this point is less likely to be beneficial than perhaps it could have been.

You see I can't actually recall being invited for a similar 'health check' of any kind while I was morbidly obese, seriously unfit and a long-term drug-dependent asthmatic - but hey, I guess I was a few years younger then. Maybe it's hindsight's 20:20 vision dictating this poor attitude on my part, but I can't help but think that it might have maybe, just maybe, had a positive effect on my thinking and actions had I been warned of the pretty imminent dangers of my crappy lifestyle back then. Still, water under the bridge and all that.

To my mind the betterment of my general health in the past seven or so years has been nothing short of amazing. The weight (OK, let's call it what it really is - fat) that I've lost is one aspect for sure, and is a powerful positive. My current BMI of 20.8, just below half way along that 'normal' band, is nice to see as at the start of my weight loss it used to be over 39 which is... er, not so good! Sure, I'd like to drop another pound or two and things could probably do with being a little more toned, but we're working on that. I'm certainly one helluva lot slimmer than I was for way too many years but this, taken alone, misses the point slightly too.

Very much more importantly in my eyes are those nice positive effects upon 'me' and my health that derive from losing almost half my previous body mass and fundamentally changing my diet and lifestyle. These show in all sorts of ways.

Simple things, like my skin being clearer, so no more sore spots or fungal infections where the fat bits rubbed and sweated (yeah, I know - TMI). My dentist has commented that my teeth don't have the same old levels of scale and gunk deposits and my gums are in better health. I now suffer far fewer and less severe infections of all sorts (even colds and sniffles are not as they used to be, if/when I do pick something up). And I know my blood pressure is fine, thankfully. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the benefits I see have an impact (and a good one) on my mental outlook too - my confidence has improved and I'm more the 'me' I thought I'd lost forever.

My achy joints may still remain, as a legacy of years of abuse, but they bug me considerably less that they used to. Funnily enough, life's general aches and pains must have reduced too, as there are barely any painkillers in our medicine cabinet and those which are there date back a while - a thing I've only just realised. What's more, between improvements to joints and lungs I can happily run up a flight of stairs (or more) without near collapse or an asthma attack.

Of particularly precious note to me is the breathing side. After decades carrying those damn things everywhere I went (out of necessity) I've been off all inhalers for a looong time now. In fact, the only medication I'm taking is HRT. My peak flow, which I still check from time to time, is still nicely above the predicted levels for a female of my age (without asthma) and that makes me very happy indeed. Thank you exercise and weight loss.

Now, I do have a wee niggling minor concern for when I go for this check. This is that following a ketogenic, low-carb diet as I do, I'm wondering whether I'll be read the cholesterol riot act/scare story as my bloods are pretty likely to show the effects of this way of life, and my total C and HDL-C levels might well be elevated... although I may be fretting without need and borrowing troubles here. Who knows yet.

If this is so, I don't mind a bit (read Cholesterol Clarity for why), but the NICE guidelines the Health Service have to follow, but which I believe are flawed, may well decide that I urgently 'need' statinating... hmmm, we'll see. It ain't going to happen, even if that's what I'm told will 'benefit' me.

Back in action

Hooray!, we got our sorry selves back to the gym on Monday night  ...albeit pretty gently to begin with, after being 'missing inactive' for ages (actually nearly a month's absence - damn, all that wasted subscription). It was, by turns, great, hard, wonderful, strange, fun, exhausting and any number of other descriptors, but it went a whole lot better than either of us had expected.

Yesterday was fine, but this morning I am somewhat aware that my upper body got some unaccustomed use. However, I'm actually quite surprised that my legs (especially my thighs) still seem to be talking nicely to me after sessions on the Wave, Recumbent and various other bits 'n bobs! The abs are absolutely fine, dandy and OK, which doesn't surprise me at all though, as weeks of coughing (which I'm still doing!) seems to have kept them pretty much used to being deployed. Silver linings, eh?

I'm delighted to say we both did our full sessions, although it took us longer than usual and neither of us did those little extras we'd grown used to doing. On a slightly less joyous note, we did both feel like we'd run the London and Boston marathons back to back afterwards! Boy, were we tired. Still, we're back in the saddle and planning our next visit later this week. Ooooh, it feels good to be back.