Tag Archives: Health

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

Posted on by

1. Plateaus. I’ve been hovering about a pound or two on either side of 190 for a little over a month now. I’m not doing anything different than I was when I was steady losing. I’m just… stuck… in a spot where the numbers say I should be losing slowly but steadily. The obvious option – slash another hundred or two hundred calories out of the day isn’t appealing since I’m already coming in around 1800 a day. Losing even more time in the day to being out walking or on the damned exercise bike is equally unappealing. This process has already monopolized more time and effort than I really wanted to allocate for it. Fifteen months in, and there’s still not one bit of this effort that has proven to be a good time. 

2. The reward for good work. The reward for good work isn’t recognition, or accolades, or more money, it’s simply being assigned more work. In some cases, it’s being assigned more work that someone else in your work unit can’t or won’t do. Not only does that become a bit awkward when passing in the hall, but it’s also a bit agitating in that I don’t have the stomach to just let projects die on the vine because I don’t want to work on them. I wish I did. In the government there seems to be a whole cottage industry in being able to duck assignments you don’t want just by quietly refusing to do a damned thing with them. As I trundle into the last third of my career, I wonder if it isn’t time to take a page out of that book since there are no obvious consequences.

3. Buyer’s remorse. I bought a spanking new La-Z-Boy recliner a few months ago. It’s very comfortable. It looks good. I spent at least an hour sitting in it in the showroom before making the decision that it was the one I wanted sitting in the living room for the next 10-15 years. I thought I made a solid decision. Here’s the thing… I don’t like it as much as the recliner that it replaced. I don’t enjoy the fact that it’s a rocker as much as I thought I would. Because it’s a rocker, it also comes on a raised platform, and this is where my displeasure was unexpected and something I couldn’t have reasonably accounted for in the store. I’ve always kept a dog bed on the right-hand side of wherever I ended up sitting in every living room I’ve ever had. While I watched TV or read in the evening, I’d casually dispense ear scratches or pets. Because of the raised platform configuration of this chair, I can’t sit there and pet the dog while he’s laying down without throwing myself into some oddly convoluted listing position. So, I’ve done the only reasonable thing and pulled the old recliner out of mothballs and pressed it back into service while relegating the fancy new La-Z-Boy to the sunroom/office as a comfortable place to sit during the duty day.

The good and the bad…

Posted on by

Last week I had my standard cardiology follow up. The good news is that we continue to observe nothing abnormal. The bad news is that we’re no closer to identifying why my heart went wonky a few times nearly 18 months ago. I’m beginning to think this could be one of those unfortunate unknown unknowns that I’m just supposed to learn to accept. 

Acceptance of “what is” has never been a particularly strong suit for me, but since we’ve basically run out of non-invasive tests, options are a bit limited. It was made very clear to me that a consult is only a phone call away, but unless old symptoms reemerge or new ones develop, I’m to check in year hence for a follow up. 

I know I should absolutely treat this as a no news is good news situation… maybe I will eventually. At the moment I’m still trying very hard just to wrap my arms around the idea that I am, in fact, a mere mortal after all. One thing at a time, I suppose. 

In more important news, doc cleared me to start easing back into the world of caffeinated beverages. It turns out I can take or leave getting a morning jolt of fully caffeinated coffee, but I’m really, truly appreciating the return of a proper cup of mid-afternoon tea. My days of burning through two pots of coffee a day are probably over for good, but it’s an awfully nice option to have back on the table. 

Feeling salty…

Posted on by

Other people go over the moon for chocolate or other sweets, but it’s always been the bag of potato chips or bowl of pretzels that’s been my weakness.  Being on this damned diet hasn’t changed that in the least. If I’m having a craving, 99 times out of 100 it’s for something salty rather than sweet. That has been a unique challenge while trying to keep my daily sodium intake somewhere close to the AHA’s recommended daily allowance. You don’t realize how sodium heavy everything is until you really start tracking it relentlessly. 

I find I’m just now arriving at a place where I can have a bag of Doritos or salt and vinegar chips in the house and reliably hold myself to a one ounce “serving.” Some days – yesterday, for example – all the counting in the world doesn’t make much difference. Between my morning bagel, 100 grams of ham salad at lunch, and a cup and a half of beef stew, my sodium content for the day was shot to hell. Believe me when I tell you it doesn’t take much for the day’s allowance of salt to slip entirely off the rails.

Fortunately, I don’t seem to be one of the people whose blood pressure responds absurdly out of proportion to sodium so my reading this morning didn’t go stupid. I have, however, noticed that weighing in after a high sodium day easily packs on 1% or more of my previous day’s body weight. That’s an absurd increase while still being in a nominal calorie deficit. Sure, I know in the next day or two I’ll literally piss that water weight away, but goddamn if I’m not feeling just a little salty about it.

Anyway, I’ve been doing this for almost a year and a half now and there’s honestly none of it where I would look back fondly and say, “yes, I was having a good time.” As long as the status quo holds, I continue to be willing to trade flavor for a promised increase in yardage. Should the status quo change, rest assured, all bets are off. 

Shit in a box…

Posted on by

I’m not going to lie, one of the things that has changed unexpectedly since I turned 45 has been how often I’m required to shit in a box… for science. Admittedly, the total number of times that’s happened in the last 15 months is twice, but that is exactly two times more often than it happened in the previous 45 years, so it feels like a significant deviation from the norm. 

The first of these experiences was to check for any underlying gastrointestinal issues causing my acid reflux. The second was as a screening tool for early detection of colon cancer. Both are worthy objectives and I support the goal entirely. That doesn’t make it any less weird when you have to spend some part of your morning packaging up your own shit and then driving it over to the nearest UPS store. There’s something intensely surreal about the whole process.

Despite the warnings that “things change after you hit 40,” I’ll admit I was entirely unprepared for some of what that was going to entail. In some ways, regularly shitting in a box and then posting it off for someone else to analyze is, perhaps, not even the strangest part of this brave new phase of life. I’m equal parts curious and terrified of whatever comes next.

One thirty down and I have some thoughts…

Posted on by

It’s been just about a year since I made the conscious decision to get my weight down towards something that wouldn’t trigger such a serious lecture every time I walked into a doctor’s office. Realizing that I was, in fact, both destructible and well past the demographic definition of middle-age gave me a level of motivation I’d never had before. Score one for the motivating power of fear and self-preservation. 

In any case, dropping 130 pounds over the last year hasn’t exactly been an adventure. I’m agitated every day about the foods – and lifestyle – I had to give up in order to achieve what would be easy to assume was purely a vanity exercise. I won’t pretend I don’t have my vanities, but none of them have ever been tied to my appearance, which is probably for the best.

I’m sure when I wander back to my doctor for my next scheduled checkup, he’ll make all the appropriate approving noises. My most recent bloodwork came back with significantly marked improvements over its historic baseline. Even if we haven’t gotten to the root causes of what was causing my heart to ramp up to a sprint of its own accord, it’s hard to argue against my innards being healthier than they were a year ago. 

What no one mentioned as they encouraged me through this process, though, was all the minor annoyances that would accompany this process. I just did my second cull of the clothes hanging in my closet and came to the unhappy realization that I only have eight shirts and two pair of pants that fit now. The rest – some of my favorite shirts mind you – are now comically oversized on my new frame. 

I’m going to have to take some time during this little Independence Week vacation for clothes shopping. I spent time doing that already this spring. This means I’ve spent more time shopping for clothes in the last three months than I have in the last three years. In fact, it will probably account for more time than I’ve spent shopping in the last decade.

I used to know the brands I liked and the appropriate sizes. It was easy enough finding them online and reordering as needed. Now, every damned shirt is a roll of the dice. It’s an enormous pain in the ass and feels a little bit like adding insult to injury. Sure, I’ll do it because wandering around naked is frowned upon by western civilization (and winter is coming), but there’s no power in heaven or earth than can make me enjoy the process. 

It’s been a very strange year…

Posted on by

It’s just a few days shy of the one-year anniversary of experiencing the still unexplained tachycardia that started me down what feels like a very long and often unfulfilling series of medical appointments and major life changes. As June 28th looms larger on the horizon, I’m still not sure what to make of the experience. Maybe it’s not surprising to anyone else but learning that I am not actually indestructible came as something of an unwelcome surprise. 

I won’t say that I ever considered myself particularly healthy, but I always felt robust and strong as a bull moose. I rarely gave much thought to my physical limits. This experience has forced me to confront both human fragility and the illusion of invincibility I once held. Every medical appointment since has been a reminder of my body’s unpredictability, and despite numerous tests and consultations, the cause of my tachycardia remains elusive. This uncertainty has become a constant background noise in my life.

Each day carries a mix of hope and frustration, as I swing between optimism that the next appointment might bring answers and the annoyance of another inconclusive result. It’s a challenge to remain patient and positive when the path to wellness feels never-ending. Often, the struggle between my own ears is as or more problematic than the physical one.

As June 28th approaches, marking a year since this parade of fuckery, I find myself reflecting on the life changes that have accompanied it. Adjusting my lifestyle to accommodate both the knowns and the unknows has meant altering routines that felt as natural as breathing. From dietary changes and new exercise regimes to prioritizing rest and stress management, the shifts have been both major and minor but always impactful. The experience has reshaped my understanding of health and well-being and the surprisingly delicate balance required to maintain it. 

A year later I wish I had better answers than, “well, as long as the incidents aren’t recurring, keep doing what you’re doing.” Patience in the face of uncertainty has never been one of my strengths. This experience hasn’t improved that at all. As I gain some distance from the events that launched this ridiculousness, pondering on what it all means and what’s going to happen has receded to manageable proportions rather than filling a dominate place in my daily thoughts. That has gone a long way to letting me make the mental leap to getting back to what now passes for normal.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

Posted on by

1. Fasting. As if the unremitting diet isn’t bad enough then there’s the periodic bloodwork that must be done while fasting. How in the year 2024 has science not progressed to the point where a man can both have breakfast and know his cholesterol simultaneously. I swear, for all our fancy scans and computer enhanced diagnostics, we feel about two steps removed from casting bones and reading entrails sometimes.

2. No plans. We’ve reached the point in the year where I traditionally start burning off vacation time. The catch is, I used to take my time off and go places and see interesting parts of the world… or at least go sit on a beach receiving a heavy dose of sand and rum. It’s been a good long time since I’ve done that. I bought a house, a couple of vehicles, ended up with a few pets that I hate the thought of being separated from and suddenly it’s been a decade since I’ve been any further away than a quick road trip lasting no more than a couple of nights. Oh, I’ll go scouting for some books, do a bit of TV binging, and be absolutely thrilled about not being tethered to work in any way, but there’s part of me that wishes I was headed off somewhere exotic next week, just to get a proper change of scenery.

3. Everything else. In addition to the traditional beginning of annual leave season, it’s also that time of year when where I get unreasonably angsty and out of sorts about nearly everything as my birthday closes in. At this point it’s no longer just a glitch, but a feature of the last few weeks of May every year. Look, especially this year, I appreciate the arrival of another birthday as a sure sign that I managed not to drop dead, but it’s still a stinging reminder of how much I haven’t gotten done – and how much grows increasingly unlikely to ever get done as the years crack on at what feels like an increasingly frenetic pace. I know my mood will improve once I get through next weekend… for now though, you’d best think of me as decidedly surly. If I were a sign, I’d be brightly painted “approach with caution.”

On my distinct lack of give-a-shit…

Posted on by

There are a million things going on in the world, and if I’m brutally honest with you (and with myself), there’s not a single one of them I feel interested enough in to write about today. Sure, my privilege is showing or whatever, but I just don’t have it in me at the moment to be morally outraged, vaguely interested, heartbroken, or whatever appropriate response is dictated by the events of the day. 

All I really want to do – and therefore what I will spend my evening doing – is sitting here comfortably with a book. Jorah will inevitable be napping next to me. One of the cats (Anya for sure) will be curled up between my knees. Monday is bad enough on its own without trying to dwell too much on all the ills of the world. 

This is a thought I keep coming back to. I know it’s made an appearance here more than once. There are probably lots of valid questions – How engaged should we be in what’s happening outside our bubble? What do I owe the world if I’m keeping shit together inside my own fence line? Should I even be bothered by what’s happening out there beyond my immediate span of control? 

The last year has, somewhat of necessity, been focused internally – on what I’ve needed to do in an attempt to follow doctor’s orders and the various episodes of fuckery that resulted from that. While it hasn’t been a full-on shitstorm, it has been the better part of a year of the number of things I’ve had the bandwidth to care about being reduced pretty dramatically. Maybe that was self-preservation, but the downstream consequence seems to be that my naturally low give-a-shit level is almost nonexistent these days. Believe me when I tell you that any time you think you see me giving a shit (and it doesn’t directly involve animal welfare or mocking the feckless or stupid among us) I’m 100% faking it… and probably doing a piss poor job of that in the moment. I’m honestly not sure if I’ll ever adjust this attitude or if I even want to. Like so much else, that is apparently yet to be determined.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

Posted on by

1. A deferred milestone. I thought I was on track to hit the next weight milestone – 200 pounds even, or down 130 – on or about my birthday. Although I’ve started slowly creeping down again, the previous three weeks where I held all things equal has pretty much guaranteed I can’t get there from here unless I develop a pretty nasty stomach bug. It’s disappointing, of course. I was hoping to sit down to my traditional birthday lunch of crabcakes and hushpuppies and proceed to getting back to a “maintenance” level of eating. That feels out of reach. But I’m still damned well planning to have the crab cakes and hushpuppies.

    2. Foreign aid debate. You know what one of the most successful bits of foreign policy of the post World War II era? Yeah, that would be when the United States poured out absolute shiploads of cash, material, and expertise on Europe and rebuilt a shattered continent. It turns out prosperous liberal democracies bound together by deep ties of trade tend not to try to kill each other nearly so often as they did when international diplomacy was a zero-sum game. The weight of American troops and weapons arguably won the war, but it was the Marshall Plan that won the peace. It’s a pity that Americans consistently refuse to remember their own history when we’re talking about relatively paltry sums in the contemporary foreign aid budget. Every scrap of progress we can make by throwing money at the problem is far less expensive than anything that happens when we need to get involved kinetically. 

    3. Walking. Gods, even with the latest in listening technology, walking is just a deadly dull way to spend 30 or 40 minutes every day. Yes, the scenery in the neighborhood is nice. Sometimes I get to see neighbors doing something stupid in full view of the sidewalk. Aside from occasionally getting to interface with the local wildlife, I’m sorry, but there just isn’t much to recommend it. Living at the far end of the dead end street, there are only so many ways to make the path different… and after six months, I’ve trod all those down multiple times each week already. Look, I’ll keep doing it… under protest and purely because the doc says I must… but you’ll never convince me that there isn’t a more interesting or entertaining use to those 30 or 40 minutes of every day that isn’t called off on account of weather. 

    What Annoys Jeff this Week?

    Posted on by

    1. Water. The guidance from the medicos is to drink water and then when I think I’ve had enough water to go and have some more. That’s fine. Wonderful. But honestly, if you want me to drink 647 cups of water a day, water should actually have some kind of flavor. I never had any problem drinking copious amounts of tea, or coffee, or gin, but the common factor there was that all three of those things tasted like something instead of just existing as being wet and “good for you.” The amount of things I’ve spent the last nine months doing on the ephemeral promise that it’s good for me yet with no other obvious tangible benefit is honestly just a little bit horrifying.

    2. Better living through chemistry. I’m still adjusting to the most recent medication changes. It seems that this round is all about reminding me of the virtue of incremental change, as each day I seem to feel every so slightly better than the day before. The first day or so of the change was downright insufferable and now we’ve moved on to somewhere between annoying and obnoxious. The head fog and general feeling of disaffection is absolutely real. I’m trying to go along and remember that it can take a month or more to really adjust, but frankly sometimes that month really just sucks and it feels marginally better to say it out loud for an audience.

    3. All you can eat. I grew up in what I’ll always consider the golden age of all you can eat dining. Within a dozen miles from home we had a Western Sizzlin, a Western Steer, wings at every local fire department on various nights of the week, a Pizza Hut lunch buffet, and a whole damned salad bar at Wendy’s. There were buffets everywhere. I don’t remember them being particularly food safe but I remember them being tasty. I had a dream about a fictitious all you can eat joint that never was – a big neighborhood bar and grill that pulled out all the stops with everything from burritos the size of your head to every carving station imaginable. It was a happy dream… but as it turns out. I’m a little sad that my days of drinking there in this bar of my imagination are over (perhaps temporarily), but that my days of all you can eat are in all likelihood dead and gone forever.