Saturday, October 18, 2014

It's All About the Balance . . .

I've been thinking about my own mortality lately.  I know, sounds morbid.  And yet . . .  there it is.  I'm closer to 60 than I am to 50, and I think that now is when the chickens of one's misspent youth might start to come home to roost.  Granted, I don't have that many, but . . .

About a month ago.  I came in to the office to find that everyone had gotten an email advising that a work colleague had passed away the night before.  She went to bed and didn't wake up.  She was 10 months older than I am.

Last week, my cousin's daughter (also my cousin :-D) had a beautiful baby girl.  I knit a bunch of stuff for her.  I even crocheted stuff for her (not my fiber art of choice).  And I realized that then when she is out of college, I will be an octogenarian.

Four days later, my cousins' dad passed away at the age of 78.  Not unexpected as he was in ill health and on hospice care, but sad nonetheless.

These things happen.  I mean death is a part of life - cue the Disney music.  But the death of my work colleague was sobering - someone I knew, and she was only a few months older than I am, and as far any anyone knew, there was nothing wrong with her.

My 40th high school reunion was about a month ago, and, as you can read below, I didn't go.  One of the few people I remain in touch with from those days did, however.  And she said that all the men looked frighteningly old.  Many of the woman did too, and of course there were those who were massively tan and had had far too much plastic surgery, but it was mainly the men who looked the worse for 40 years of wear.

And this week, one of my best friends has learned that the "heart palpitations" she has had off and on for a number of years have moved on to atrial fibrillation (the precursor to my mom's death).  

And so I've been thinking a lot about life - and death - and a really lot about my health.  Which, if you read this blog regularly generally always includes concern over the size of my ass, which is again looking kind of like Kansas, I'm afraid.

But you were eating so healthily last year, A.  Yeah, I was - but the draconian plan I was following (The Strict Program for Three Months) proved to not be sustainable over the long haul, and the dietitian left the practice before I could meet with her again and work on making the initial program livable for me.  Excuses.  I know.  My pipe teacher hates when I say "I know."  And yet, I do know.  These missteps and choices were my own and have brought me here - and so I have to learn - again - to get smaller and - hopefully this time stay smaller.  For as many times as my weight has gone down, it has always gone back up.  I know how to get smaller, but I haven't learned yet how to stay smaller.

Other than my lifelong struggle with the size of my ass, I've never had anything really wrong with me until all this inflammation crap started a few years ago - then early last year a minor cholesterol issue, which was corrected by diet and exercise (that would be the Strict Program for Three Months).  I have no idea what my cholesterol numbers are like at the moment and I don't want to know.  I did check my BP, though, as I used to do regularly. 

My mom developed high blood pressure in her 50s - after a life of low blood pressure (like me).  After my recent weight gain (yeah, it's bothersome . . . ) I've taken my BP at the Jewel a couple of times and not been happy with what I saw there.  I know that in my case, those machines are generally substantially higher than when a person takes my BP, but I'm looking at it as an early warning system.

I did contact my doctor about all of this - and I gotta say, I wasn't too happy with his response (or should I say lack of response), and I realized that I know what to do, I just have to do it.  Again.  And so, once more, it's all about the balance . . .