289.
Really?
Yes.
5'4"and 289 pounds. And did I mention feeling trapped in a body I didn't know how to walk or talk in - let alone work out in? And scared and like I might not live to be 50? Because I surely felt that way. How could I NOT have a heart attack or a stroke or simply explode like that gum-chewer on Willy Wonka?
People, I was scared.
You don't need any medical training to appreciate the horror of the blood work I am about to describe:
TRIGLYCERIDES: 180 (150 IS MAXIMUM NORMAL)
TSH: 6.15 (.40 - 4.5 IS CONSIDERED NORMAL)
LD: 362 (200 IS MAXIMUM NORMAL)
My doctor, sweet gal that she is, took my hand and told me it would be ok. That I was grieving. That I needed to work through my feelings and let the tears come. This was great advice - from a psychiatric standpoint - but HELLO LOOK AT MY TRIGLYCERIDES. I have yet to see the study that recommended sobbing to lower triglycerides - though I would gladly have complied if the data supported such an outcome. I am an excellent cryer.
Notice also that my thyroid function is WACKED. This terrifying number prompted a prescription for lots more levothyroxine. Ho hum. Been there, done that. But MAN, that number is shocking, and as far as I know, tears don't help your thyroid snap to attention either.
So there I was. Dead on my feet in an ill fitting paper robe in Dr. M's office, staring at that number and realizing, finally, that if I didn't attack this problem - that if I did not give my all and sacrifice my best and agree to absolutely any resulting discomfort - that I would a) live not so very long - and b) live a life hardly "like" life at all. By that time, I couldn't take escalators because I couldn't see my feet. And what did I look like?? This,
approximately:
What kind of life IS that?
Answer: one to end. And do I intend to end it? I sure as hell do. Not by death, mind you. I have people who love me and my typing and phone skills are above par. I am a useful human being.
I just want to be thin.
Tomorrow, I'll write about the solution.
