There’s no secret that I’m being sustained by a chemical cocktail that is a marvel of modern medical science. I’ve got pills to keep my heart from exploding and some to keep my blood from having some kind of glucose enduced fit. There’s the one that keeps my esophagus from being eaten by my stomach and a fourth one that does something that I’m sure is equally important. The real irony, though, is that while these keep me from meeting an untimely demise, one of them is secretly a traitor who is trying to shred my lower GI tract and makes himself known at the most unfortunate of times. It’s a great addition to my weight loss regimen, but I could really do without the regular feeling of having my innards tied in knots. Ah, better living through chemistry.
Category Archives: Health
Doing it wrong…
I smoked a pack a day for the better part of 14 years. If I had a nickel for every time someone told me I’d feel better if I quit, I’d have something like $210 and change. I’ve been fat for way longer than I smoked and it was the same story: You’ll feel better if you start exercising and eating better. I haven’t had a smoke in more than nine months. I’m eating more salad than a triceratops. And if I spent as much time on a real bike as I have on that bloody stationary bike, I’d be a front runner for the Tour de France.
The fact is, I don’t feel any different than I did I did six months ago or even a year before that. I’m apparently missing the part of this process that people rave about on Facebook. People say they feel energized following a workout. After mine, I’m pretty much just sore. And tired, which I already was before the exercise. I’m told I can be less than a ray of sunshine on my best day, so you can imagine what a great mood I’m in by that point.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I feel particularly bad. I wasn’t expecting the skies to open up, or the choir invisible to thunder into song, I was expecting to, you know, feel better than I did before or at the very least to feel different. As it stands, I’m pretty much just not doing something that I enjoyed and eating alot things I don’t like. Maybe I’m just doing it wrong…
Checked over…
The sawbones seems to be pleased with my continued lack of being deceased. I’m a fan as well, of course. My BP is in striking distance of normal, blood glucose levels are ranging well into normal territory, and I’ve dropped somewhere in the neighborhood of 35 pounds since October. The meds probably have more to do with those first two things than I do, but I’m taking credit for the weight loss. Me and that cursed exercise bike.
Next scheduled follow-up is in April. I’m glad to dispense with our monthly meetings, though I’ll miss the excuse for taking an extra Friday off every month. Maybe by April, I’ll be looking for a doctor somewhere a little closer to the Mason-Dixon Line. That would do wonders for my health and wellbeing. A boy can dream, right?
Chow…
Sugar free Jello is food, I suppose, if you use the broadest possible definition. Having no actual nutritional value and minimal taste, it ranks somewhere between cardboard and unflavored rice cakes on the list of things I want to eat. But there it is in the fridge. A new week, a new flavor. This week is orange. Last week was cherry. It takes most of the edge off of a nagging sweet tooth, but that’s about the only positive thing I’ll say about it.
I miss food that’s filling. I miss pasta and rice. I miss potato-based products. And lord almighty, I miss Wonder bread. Baby carrots and house salads the size of your head just don’t pack the same satisfaction of a plate of spaghetti or giant sandwich. Everything I’ve read says “there’s no reason to feel deprived” on a low carb diet… But pretty much all I’m feeling is deprived.
Meh. I’m going to bed to dream about penne and garlic bread.
Not indestructible…
I’ve been going to the doctor alot lately. Probably more often in the last two months than in the last five or ten years combined. It seems that, and alot of years of hard living and not are coming home to roost. What started off as a simple complaint of not sleeping and extreme thirst have become a diagnosis of Type 2 Diabetes. Not what I wanted to hear on Friday afternoon, but not hard to predict with my love of all things sweet and carb-y. My A1C wasn’t quite off the charts, but high enough to get a “wow” from Dr. Good News. My blood sugar came in north of 180 and I know it’s gone higher than that in the last month… I didn’t get a “wow” for that one.
So yeah, Dr. Killjoy sat me down for the come-to-Jesus talk about getting right with my diet and less than casual acquaintance with exercise (apparently walking from the truck to the office doesn’t count). I’m pretty sure he was trying to scare me straight with talk about insulin, but my 
pain avoidance instinct is strong enough to want to avoid the needle if at all possible. I guess we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. For the time being, I have a stack of new meds and will be hoping for better living through chemistry.
Last night was the great cleaning of the pantry – out with carb-y noms like cereal, pasta, juices, pop tarts, my beloved gummy bears, and maybe worst of all, the Blue Moon that was chilling in the fridge. I’ve got a fridge now full of dairy, protein, and vegetables – most of which I have no idea how to actually cook. It’s really like looking into someone else’s kitchen. Of course that’s nothing compared to the looks I’ve been giving the 
exercise bike that now lives in the spare bedroom – because, let’s face it, even on pain of death, I’m not bloody likely to go walk around the neighborhood in the cold. Exercise that can be done while watching TV seemed like something I would at least be able to tolerate.
I’m uneasy with change as a matter of principle and the change being called for here is no small order. It’s basically undoing just about every habit I’ve developed over the last 15 years. Apparently I’m not indestructible after all. That’s a tough one to come to terms with. There’s a fair chance that everything about this process will annoy, anger, or otherwise make me want to beat myself unconscious with a celery stalk… and when it does, you’ll hear it here first.
Taking the long way around…
I’m not sure I’m happy with my relationship with the new doctor. I liked my old doc. I told her what the problem was and what I wanted to happen and then *poof* it happened. This new guy and I seem to be talking past one another. I’m telling him what the problem is and then he wants to figure out what the root cause is before treating the symptoms. That’s great and all, but really, all I wanted out of today was to improve my life through chemistry and get an actual full night’s sleep. No such luck from Dr. Let’s-run-some-tests. Instead of something to make me sleep, all I have to show for today is a $23 co-pay, what seemed to be an awful lot of drawn blood being sent off for testing, and a possible diagnosis of a syndrome whose only appreciable symptom seems to be extreme dry mouth. So as far as I can tell, the logic here is: Dry mouth triggers increased drinking, which causes increased kidney function, which triggers frequent nighttime visits to the water closet, which means waking up at all times of the night and results in a very, very sleepy Jeff. Sure, all this is possible, but really all I’m interested in is getting to sleep. The rest is in the nice-to-fix category, but not really my big issue at the moment. If someone want’s to sneak up behind me and hit me in the head with something hard and knock me out for a few hours, I’d consider it a huge favor and an early Christmas present.
On the up side, while the doc was trying to look up drug interactions on his medical palm pilot, I beat him to it with my iPad. I don’t think he was as impressed as he probably should have been. I mean, I wasn’t even able to use their wifi and I still beat him to it. With the rest of the visit being what it was, I’m going to take that as a small victory. That’s probably why he’s not going to do anything other than look at test results until after we meet again after the first of the year. Pyrrhic victory, much?
Conversations with the doctor…
Given that I was all but out of the medicines that keep my stomach from tearing itself apart and my blood pressure from rocketing through the top of my skull, I basically had no choice but to comply with the summons of my newly appointed doctor to make myself available to him before he’d call in my refill. My last doctor had been incredibly accommodating when it came to dispensing the medications and I got the distinct feeling that this one wasn’t going to be so pliable. In fairness, he seems like a nice enough guy and legitimately concerned about his patients. Perhaps a few snippets of dialog can illustrate…
Doc: What brings you in today?
Me: You wouldn’t refill my prescription until I came in.
Doc: Oh yeah. So no complaints?
Me: Besides the obvious? No.
Doc: Good. No problems then.
Doc: We need to make sure your kidneys are working.
Me: I peed this morning…
Doc: That’s a good sign.
Me: I thought so.
Doc: So we’ll just take you back to the lab to draw blood.
Me: Super.
Doc: Do you want your flu shot while you’re here?
Me: No.
Doc: Why not?
Me: I get sick the day after every flu shot I’ve ever gotten.
Doc: Ever had the flu?
Me: Once years ago
Doc: Me too. Was down for two weeks. It’s no fun.
Me: Better make sure you get your shot.
Doc: Yeah.
Look, I know we’ve all got a job to do, but really, all I need you to do is keep me supplied with the drugs that keep me alive. I’m a wimp when it comes to being sick and you can count on the fact that the minute something goes wrong, you’re going to be the second to know because I’m going to want some shot or pill that will get me fixed up. I know this is a new relationship for us, but I’m pretty sure the “see you in three months” thing is a little excessive. I’ll concede to twice a year if absolutely necessary, but once a quarter is out of the question. We’re going to have to come to some sort of understanding.
Something unusual…
Something unusual happened Saturday evening… For the first time in 12 years I ran completely out of Marlboro Lights; none stashed in the freezer, or in the glovebox, or in the pocket of a coat I haven’t worn in a few weeks. I was well and truly out of cigarettes… except for the pack I had left over from my trip to Italy two years ago and that was stale when I bought it. After two years, I think I can safely label that one for decorative/historical purposes only. I had my Baskin Robins-esk assortment of 32 flavors of cartridges for my e-cig and a just-arrived-in-the-country shipment from my new friends in Sweden, so I wasn’t particularly worried about going into fits before I could get out to the Tiger Mart on Sunday.
Sunday came and went and I went to Kroger to restock the fridge. I filled up the tank at the Tiger Mart. And I was home putting the groceries away before I realized that I had actually forgotten to pick up more smokes. Much to my surprise, this wasn’t cause to immediately drag myself back out of the house. It was more a moment of “ehh, I’ll pick up a pack on my way to work tomorrow.” Tomorrow turned into today and I made it to the office with the help of General Mini Mint portions and realized it was 11:30 before even thinking of taking a smoke break (that’s only really impressive, I suppose if I mention that smoke breaks usually roll around at 8, 9:30, and 11 like clockwork. At that point, I popped a portion of Ettan, took a few pulls on my e-cig, and assumed I’d just pick up a pack on my way home.
Well I’m home now and we’re getting on past bedtime and I’m still out of smokes. That’s not to say that I’m on the wagon. I know that I’m probably always going to be one bad day or even one bad minute from having a cigarette. I’m predisposed towards addictive behaviors and have been for as long as I can remember. I don’t imagine there’s anything that will change that. I won’t delude myself or try to fool anyone into thinking that I’m off the juice. E-cigarettes are basically untested, but hold promise, and Swedish snus, at least in the research available, appears to be a significantly lower-risk alternative to smoking, so I’m still feeding the beast. I’ll wake up tomorrow at the beginning of my third smokeless day. How I end it mainly depends on environmental factors that are beyond my control and my response to those stimuli, which is entirely within my control. It’s good to have options and since cold turkey has never been something within my reach, I’ll happily settle for “safer” (and cheaper doesn’t hurt either).
I know I’m spending alot of time writing about this, but since cigarettes have more or less defined my waking actions and driven my schedule since I was 19, that’s to be expected. It’s a massive change in lifestyle and in though process and I want to capture a permanent record of it as it happens. One thing I promise is that no matter what happens, I’m not going to become a zealot or a crusader. I’ll record my experiences and thoughts, interesting tidbits I pick up along the way, and I’ll report them here. Anyone reading can decide their value or lack thereof for themselves.
What kind of month has it been…
I’ve have my new e-cig hobby for a little over a full month now (my Vapor4Life kit arrived on January 21st). At first, I got interested in e-cigs as a non-taxed alternative and primarily as a way to save money overall. Yeah, do the math and 1.5 packs per day x $5.50 per pack x 365 days per year end up at a little over $3,000 a year not including days where I burned up well over my “assumed” 1 and 1/2 packs. Even testing out my e-cig by laying on lots of new and interesting flavors, picking up accessories, and more batteries, it was obvious that I was saving money and therefore meeting my goal. Not to mention that my cigarette intake was down to about 5 a day at it’s low point and there were some days when I would’d have an “analog” at all. And then something unexpected happened… That number started creeping back up and some days would get back within striking distance of a pack a day. So not only was my old habit coming back, but I was keeping up with my new one too… That’s a cost saving measure only a government could love.
It seems to me that although I was getting the nicotine by body tells me I need, there was something missing in the e-cig that my long-standing relationship with Marlboro was giving me… I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising that when something contains more than 4000 chemicals, more than one of them may have addictive qualities. And as we all know, I’ve rarely met a bad habit I didn’t want to have for myself. My point here is that I didn’t start this thing with any intention of actually giving up cigarettes, but the last month has taught me that e-cigs and analogs don’t make good company, at least for me.
Because I’m a historian by nature and by education, I set about to find what others have done who faced same situation. What I discovered was that while some people turned in their lighters after their first e-puff, a great many have needed something extra to get over the proverbial hump when the big cravings hit. What that “something” seems to be for many e-cig users is Sweedish snus, a smokeless tobacco product that most reputable studies show is far fewer long-term health effects than the burning tobacco in cigarettes (and no, it’s not snuff – check out a WSJ article on the topic if you’re interested and/or bored). A tin of snus has the added benefit of still being much cheaper than a pack of smokes and a “hit” tends to last more than an hour in use so a tin could theoretically last for days.
I’m still a big proponent for the e-cig and it’s going to be my go-to delivery system for nicotine for the foreseeable future… but for those couple of times a day when the urge goes over the top, I’ve got a package inbound from Sweden that may just be what I need to fill the gap. For now, I’m trying to learn all I can on ye olde forums: http://www.snuson.com.
Hitting empty…
I’ve said it before, but it’s worth saying again: I am a creature of habit. Things that mess with my habits are generally best avoid for all parties concerned. It very rarely ends well. It’s a position that gets even more tricky when two deeply ingrained habits come into conflict with one another. For instance tonight, my 12 year old cigarette habit is coming into direct conflict with my hatred for leaving the house once I’ve made it home from work (seriously, getting me out of the house on a weekday takes an act of Congress or at least a Federal holiday).
Being a smoker means being prepared in a way that would make a Boy Scout proud… Never letting your stockpile run out and always keeping fire at your fingertips. Today I broke the smoker’s cardinal rule: I burned up my last one without making sure I had a pack held in reserve. It’s been that way since just after lunch and I just now realized it, passing the time with my laptop-turned-hooka and the assortment of new batteries and flavors that arrived from my e-cig vendor this afternoon. That was well and good when I wasn’t thinking about it, but now I’ve realized it and it’s starting to make me a bit twitchy.
The second factor at work, and the one that is presently winning the day, is having no earthly desire to get out of my fuzzy slippers and actually leave the house to go get a fresh pack. That means at worst, it’s twelve hours without a smoke… and I couldn’t tell you the last time that happened. It was probably some time before I started. For tonight at least it seems like I’m an ex-smoker (but more and more a wild-eyed “vaper” (i.e. one who uses a “personal vaporizer” or e-cig). I don’t know if it will stick or even if I want to give it up completely in favor of vaping full time. Driving past the trusty old Circle K may prove too much of a challenge in the pre-dawn hours, but that’s all a few hours off yet. In the meantime, I’m settling in for the night with a new cartridge of Cuban Cigar flavor. Yum!
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