February 18th is the next time I see the specialist.
This past Thursday, I called out sick from work, nursing a "migraine hang over," and decided that I put it off long enough, with "IT" being the 24 hour urine collection, trapping all urine for a 24 hour period, it's difficult to do this without being at home the entire time, anchored to the bright orange jug.
So I dropped it off on Friday, and I also got my blood drawn for my "three month" check up.
I weighed myself this week too, something I normally avoid like a raging case of bleeding hemmorhoids infested with ravenous fire ants. Needless to say, I wasn't pleased with that reading.
Despite doing things in moderation, my body and I are having a gravitational tug of war, and I'm a bit weary from my standpoint.
I'm keeping up with my supplements and medications as best as I can, hydration, chiropractic visits for my back and neck, walking a bit, and contemplating starting a yoga class that commences in a week or so. All good distractions, but I am resigned to the fact that my body, specifically, my pancreas, will do what it is WONT to do.
Feeling a bit dreadful and fatalistic being resigned to this little organ that is probably no bigger than my fist having such a strangle hold over my life.
And no, I haven't gone back on Atkins. I'm eating my raw carrots every other day and eating some breadstuffs, as I'm still resistant to the whole "meat and salad" regimen of low carbing it.
Between the sudden onset greasy explosivity I experienced with the Xenical, and then the subsequent sensation of my mind turning to a 50/50 mix of helium and dog shit from the Topamax... I am giving up.
