Didja read it? Good.
Not much to report.
I lost three pounds (perhaps more, as Aunt Flow has yet to show her crimson, crampy head yet; and I also had eaten breakfast and hadn't shit it out yet).
The doc is upping my metformin from 500 mg thrice a day, to two 500 mg tablets twice a day, slowly inching me from 1500 mg to 2000 mg a day. This might even help my ravenous appetite--which is symptomatic of my over-production of insulin.
My triglycerides and uric acid were a little high. Gotta boost my vitamins etc. Drink more water? Dunno... no suggestions made other than flax seed oil caps, and keep taking the fish oil caps.
Fertility aside, a very big concern for me is the notion of not turning into my mother. And I don't mean that in the every-woman-doesn't-want-to-turn-into-her-mother kinda way either. And by not turning into her, SPECIFICALLY, I mean I do not want to suffer from these:
Morbid obesity
Type II Diabetes*
Lymphedema of the extremities*
Phlebitis*
Cellulitis* (as a result of poor circulation and the lymphedema)
Rheumatoid and oseteo arthritis (I have a 25% chance of the rheumatoid--I
know it's genetic)
Uterine cancer* & fibroids (which went undetected for who knows how
long; it had been 30 years since she last went to a gynocologist)
Bladder control issues
Borderline Personality Disorder
*All related, directly to her weight (5'5", 350-400#).
But the most troubling thing is how all of those elements have compounded themselves within my mom. Obviously she's in a lot of discomfort all the time. The more weight she gains, the more discomfort for the other aspects. The more weight she gains, the more pain, the more pain, the less she wants to move and do things, the less she wants to move and do things, the more weight she gains. It's an endless cycle. Actually there IS an end. Either she can force herself to do something unpleasant (walk more, get on her exercise bike, something); or die. Those are the only two options.
But it's a slow death. But hey, you can't neglect yourself for forty years, and then wonder why your body is betraying you!
She's 61, and if you saw her, you'd think she's 10-15 years older. She walks hunched over on two canes. Eventually my sister is going to get her a wheely-walker thing so at least she won't be all hunched over anymore. But mom won't be able to use that at her work in the kitchen. She's in denial about how her employer views her. I am sure her employer (she works for a county run facility) knows how crippled up she is. They are THAT desperate for a "pulse," if not a qualified worker.
I guess it takes a tremendous amount of grit and chutzpah, knowing how much pain she's in, to truss her legs up in pressure stockings, "absorbables," etc, popping Ralofen and Aleve (which I believe you shouldn't do) just to get to the point where she can function and go to work. It's a shame she doesn't take her Lexapro, it might take the edge off and perhaps make her more agreeable in general, if not agreeable towards getting more active, even on small levels. Working 10-12 hour days on two uncooperative, bloated, painful legs; at least the bloated and painful could have been avoided years ago.
Now? The damage is done. For mom, that is.
The best thing that came out of the visit, besides having my specialist's ear for an hour (which is a total treat), was him saying how I'm not turning into my mother, medically, and how hopefully we can fight the good fight, and see if we can prevent me from going down the Type II Diabetes road, by making my body sensitized to the insulin it's determined to over-produce.
I see him again in July.
Some folks lives, if they cannot serve as a positive example, they can serve the purpose of posing as a warning to others.
