Apparently it's 81 degrees today where I live. And I'm freezing fucking cold.
I hate hormones. I hate impending TOM. I hate feeling emotionally and physically out of whack.
And I hate my complaining.
On that cheery note, I'm going to head to campus shortly to hold office hours. But on my way I'm stopping for a SF vanilla latte to warm myself up, and I'm going to get a bowl of soup from the cafe across the street.
Brrr.
Okay, it's not -- for me -- but for, say, 12,000+ folks (and counting ) in China, thanks to yesterday's earthquake, and for tens of thousands of people (and counting) in Myanmar, thanks to the recent cyclone, it sure as hell is.
And if life isn't over for hundreds of people across the American midwest, thanks to tornadoes, and several hundred in Florida and California, thanks to wildfires, it nevertheless sucks for them right now, too.
So my complaints today are entirely ridiculous and whiny. I'm even annoying myself with them:
And while I am genuinely bloated (thanks to impending TOM and no doubt the greasy pub food and Guinness I had with a friend last night), I must note that this is also genuine body dysmorphia at work once again. I literally cannot look in the mirror when I feel this way because I truly see me at 280, not me at 163.8 (today's weight). How fucked up is that?
Really, I want to snap someone's head off, and anyone will do.
Deep breath.
I think I'd better make sure I take my happy pill today, get in those supplements, have a little protein, move forward, and just get over myself -- that's what I think.
I'm not a parent but even I got wished a Happy Mothers Day today as I ran errands. Pretty funny. I think it's become sort of like "Happy Holidays!" or something. Store clerks figure I'm of an age to have children and that they might as well play it safe and wish me a happy one.
During the most miserable, difficult, isolated period of my life during my early to mid-30s, this well-intended greeting would send me into wild grief, specifically for my lack of children and a family of my own.
Mercifully, those days are over, as is the sorrow. I might have made a good mother if 1) the circumstances of my life then had been different (e.g., if I'd been married and able to have children, for starters!), and 2) I were the person then that I am now.
However, that's not the way my life went, and that turns out to be okay. Would I choose to have children now? No, frankly. I'm too old, too unwilling to sacrifice in the way that one needs to in order to be a good parent, too unwilling to do a half-assed job. That's okay, too. There are enough half-assed parents in the world.
But I must say that some of my friends who have kids -- even those who had terrifically difficult lives growing up themselves -- have produced some stellar children. Genuinely likable, thoughtful, interesting people from the get-go, ones who will clearly make the world a better place for having been in it.
Now, those are the folks who should have kids!
With my blog, that is. It's an excellent time-waster at the end of the semester -- very effective.
I was thoroughly satisfied with the previous look of my blog, which was more or less my own design and color scheme, but I felt that I wanted a change -- something clean, streamlined, and neutral for the upcoming warm weather (er, as if one wears one's blog -- not).
Obviously this is purely for my own amusement so there's no need to comment. I expect to rotate through quite a few prefab templates in the next few weeks, just to try things out. I'm an aficionado of red, but I'm actually trying to branch out into other, paler palettes at the moment. Something a tad more Zen-like (and yes, I'm aware that Typepad actually has a template called "Zen" in a range of shades).
This may be my blog equivalent of trying on the clothes in my closet and vowing to move beyond black, now that I've lost weight.
(Yup, this is a time-waster all right!)
What can I say? He was my first and longest crush -- and my point of entry into classical Hollywood cinema.
I wrote him endless letters as a child and teenager (by today's standards, I'd have been a considered a stalker and the FBI would have a file on me -- or maybe it does!).
I was harmless, though. And many years later when I was a Ph.D. student in Los Angeles, I left a bouquet of flowers on his doorstep on his birthday with a brief thank-you note printed on university stationery. I rang the bell and then ran -- Ding Dong Ditch -- but I heard the sounds of a convivial gathering floating from around back of the large house, and I didn't want to intrude or bother anyone, least of all an old man. I just wanted him to know that his own work had led me to mine. I'm glad I did. He died the next month on June 22.
A piece of personal trivia: he named his dog after me. Yup, a true story and not the ravings of a delusional fan :)
as I did the other day, there's a Serious Piece of Work at work who takes the problem way beyond dysfunction (after all, most of us have our narcissistic moments) and into full-fledged craziness (or, as my therapist last week said, to what he'd guess is the zone of the "high-functioning borderline personality").
I prefer the term crazy, myself.
Blogging in any detail about one's work, work place, and those one encounters there can be A Very Risky Thing to Do, so at the risk of sounding coy, I won't do that here.
Suffice to say, however, that this person's actions just may -- may, mind you -- have finally landed her in hot water after a couple of decades on the job.
I certainly hope so. The wholesale emotional and professional damage that this woman has wreaked on colleagues, students, and others in her orbit is staggering, and most of the time it's so unpleasant to stand up to her that no one does. Even, technically, those in positions of power over her.
So we shall see what next week brings in the way of outcomes. Realistically speaking, there's probably no profound sea-change at work here -- but on the other hand, there might be. And that's a reason for hope.
Go figure the food thing. I can't. I'm coming up on my period, and as is typical since WLS, my appetite shrinks drastically in these few days before it hits.
Only as I've said, I'd swear it's not just my appetite but my actual stomach that shrinks: I get that backed-up-in-the-throat, full-to-the-neck feeling that I used to have in the first 6-8 months after my DS when I got full very easily.
Today it happened after my husband and I had gone out for a late Mexican breakfast. I had a small cup of tortilla soup for starters (I ate around the tortillas and took the broth, vegetables, a little melted cheese, and the stewed chicken) and then chile verde. I ate only the stewed pork (which was tender and delicious) and left the rice and beans. Protein only, in other words.
An hour later, as I was strolling around a local arts and wine fair that's held annually, sipping a bottle of water to stay hydrated, and thinking about walking home, I realized I had that gaggy feeling at the back of my throat.
WTF? I was full, certainly, but I hadn't overeaten, eaten too quickly, or not chewed my food thoroughly.
However, just topping it all off with about half a bottle of water less than an hour later put me over the top. I made my way home (about a 30-minute trip), walked in the door, and headed directly for the bathroom. The water came back up immediately, rather as if I were a human fountain, but the meal stayed down. (Fortunately. I wanted to hang on to that protein, thankyouverymuch!)
At other times of the month I can be a bottomless pit and put away large quantities of food, though not as much as I used to. But right now? Well, let's just say that I'm sipping a protein shake so as to make sure I hit my protein minimum for the day because it's not going to happen through food alone.
Where will I be this Thanksgiving Day?
Um, New Zealand? Yes, that's right. For a conference.
I was notified today that my proposal (which is related to the grant I got, the research assistant I have working for me this summer, the book I'm writing, and the graduate seminar I'm teaching in the fall) was accepted.
Yes, this is good news in my itty-bitty corner of my professional universe. Things are gelling and coming together.
Practically speaking, however, it's kind of a frightmare:
Um, plus I'm kind of intimidated by the folks who are going to be there. I have a lot of reading, research, and writing to do between now and then before I can feel adequate in that company and on my topic, and I already have butterflies in my stomach.
Six months from now -- I guess I can do it.
The conference is being held at a university where I think there are some papers that I need to look at, so that's one good thing (and part of the reason I applied to the conference). After all, if any of my research means that I have to go to New Zealand to look at documents, this would be the time to do that, obviously.
Ack. Honestly, I feel very nervous. Time to pull a Scarlett O'Hara and think about it all tomorrow.
Today is one of those days when I'm convinced that the very act of blogging is just incredibly narcissistic. (I realize that doesn't say anything good about me -- the irony is not lost on me, thanks.) And the more specifically narcissistic a particular blogger is, the more blind and self-deluded he or she is. Despite protestations to the contrary.
Maybe I'll take a vow of silence or go back to conventional journal-keeping.
The thing is, I feel guilty for reading blogs by folks I don't care for because I feel as if I should Be a Nicer Person. I feel as if it's somehow hypocritical for me to be reading the blogs of anyone I don't like. (And if you're reading this, and you know I read your blog, and we maintain a relationship of any kind, on or offline, don't freak out because, no, I'm not talking about you!)
Why, then, do I feel guilty? The people in question aren't any with whom I pretend to have any relationship whatsoever. Our paths may have crossed, virtually or actually, as I once read their blogs in the pursuit of further knowledge about WLS generally or the DS specifically, but they aren't friends or even acquaintances in the present. They aren't people with whom I maintain any kind of relationship, on or offline, on the phone or in email. It was only after reading them for over time that I realized they were Big Scary Trainwrecks and ran in the opposite direction. Except by that point I was hooked on the Trauma-Drama dynamics of their blogs, like an addict on heroin and so, in fact, I kept coming back for more virtual hits of the blog smack.
Well, but it's not nice to gawk at scenes of carnage, even when that carnage is emotional or psychological (maybe especially when it's that kind). God knows my psyche has been spread out over the asphalt at earlier times in my life, and it wasn't pretty. I should be that much more compassionate, less judgmental, and more tolerant as a result of my own experience of such damage, right?
And I'm not. Why not? Is it really that I'm just kind of an awful bitch? Is it just that it's petty Schadenfreude that's my problem?
NOUN:
- Pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others.
ETYMOLOGY:
German : Schaden, damage (from Middle High German schade, from Old High German scado) + Freude, joy (from Middle High German vreude, from Old High German frewida, from fr, happy)
When I can tear myself away from my own self-flagellation around this issue, however (and yes, my sense of guilt is quite real), ultimately I figure that no, that's not it. I'm a reasonably empathetic person, and I don't take delight in the misery of others. Not usually. Not for no reason, anyway (okay, there went my chance at a golden halo).
But I am allergic to Drama Queens (male or female) because when they're the genuine article, they tend to be those schitzy types who construct and perpetuate a sense of victim-hood and heroism around themselves and to alternate between those two poles. They engage in tactics of revelation and secrecy to heighten the drama, hook the people around them or their readers, and to keep them coming back for more because they themselves are addicted to the attention. They need people in their orbit -- actual or virtual -- to feel enthralled in order to feel as if they exist. And furthermore, they would protest that this is so.
That's it -- that's what I don't like. The sense of manipulation I feel from such people.
Yes, I know I'm particularly antipathetic to manipulation because I was the daughter of a master-manipulator who spun a web of fascination of a sort, and later in life I was also the close friend of a female friend who did much the same thing. Eventually I got really, really sick of participating in such dramas, even as an observer, however, and now I try hard to steer clear whenever I have the power to do so.
It's not that these kinds of people have no positive qualities. Quite the contrary -- they can be very attractive, dynamic individuals. But they're toxic -- to themselves, certainly, and often to others. And they'll do whatever they can, spin whatever narrative they need to, in order to avoid confronting their own toxicity and narcissism.
While I pretty successfully avoid Drama Queens and manipulators in real life now, I'm still susceptible to them in their virtual, blogging forms. That's evidence that I'm not as free of my own tendency to engage as I'd like to think of myself as being. Worst of all, in giving these folks attention, one is complicit, a reluctant Drama Queen-by-proxy.
And that's a really disgusting thought, I have to say.
Ohforfuckssake. I'm so suggestible it's sickening.
One of my grad students walked into my office a couple of months ago with a Sigg water bottle (I think it was this exact one, pictured) and over the next several weeks I fixated on it.
What's the deal with Sigg? Well, according to its website:
Extruded from a single piece of aluminum, our innovative SIGG Lifestyle Water Bottles are surprisingly rugged, crack-resistant and completely reusable and recyclable. A ground-breaking interior lining is 100% effective against leaching and combats residue build-up, so your SIGG Lifestyle Bottle is easy to clean and ensures that all you taste is the water, juice or the energy drink that you just poured into the bottle, even after its been sitting in the sun!
Energy drink????
And read on: it's Swiss! Sort of. I like Swiss Army knives. I have a Swiss Army watch that I've worn for 11 years. The Swiss Alps are pretty.
And this isn't just a water bottle, you'll note. It's a Lifestyle Water Bottle:
Choose the SIGG style which matches your style. Express your originality and enjoy the functionality and quality of Swiss design with our SIGG Lifestyle Water Bottle collection! Designed to fit your on-the-go lifestyle, our ultra lightweight water bottles are available in a wide array of colors and designs, allowing you to choose the one that best fits your personality.
Er, I've got such "originality" that I've just hopped on some trendy brand-name bandwagon! Moreover, I don't know that anyone could say I have an "on-the-go lifestyle." At least, I hope not. Folks who describe themselves in such a way are kind of smug, self-satisfied, self-congratulatory, and generally awful anyway. The very phrase is sort of sick-making.
However, I decided It Would Change My Life if I owned such a bottle. Perhaps I would become that Original, On-the-Go Chick with her yoga mat under one arm, her Sigg water bottle, and her -- um, okay, well, maybe not.
Can you say retail therapy? Transfer addiction? The stress among colleagues continues at work, the semester is hurtling to a close, and it came down to either this or diving head-first into a flourless chocolate cake. I chose this.
After a failed attempt late this afternoon to find the Sigg water bottle of my dreams at Whole Foods, where my student told me she knew the brand was sold (and so it is -- but the bottles have become so popular here that they had a poor selection), I searched online and ultimately went with a highly rated seller on eBay.
No, I didn't get it for less than retail -- but I did get the one I wanted, the one in the photo. Moreover, I didn't have to drive to hell and gone to find it, ultimately. With gas at its current price, that more than made up for slight extra I did pay.
I'll probably use it once and lose it. Or just not use it more than 2 or 3 times.
I'm ridiculous. And self-indulgent. But I'll be hydrated!
That's the reading on today's "Countdown to Alaskan Cruise" ticker, and instead of feeling happy, I felt a clutch of panic -- at all that I have to do in the next 17 days.
To wit:
I feel kind of sick as the reality of the workload over the next two weeks hits me.
Oh, and one more task:
Let's see, can I list something positive here? Okay, yes. My weight's down again, finally. I'd be a little happier if it were "down-er" but it's wiithin the range of my happy zone, so I'll take it.
Link: Vitamin D.
DS patients often malabsorb vitamins A, D, E, and K as well as calcium. But according to my latest labs, my vitamin D is high at 86 (normal range is 15-60).
What is the health risk of too much vitamin D?
There is a high health risk associated with consuming too much vitamin D. Vitamin D toxicity can cause nausea, vomiting, poor appetite, constipation, weakness, and weight loss. It can also raise blood levels of calcium, causing mental status changes such as confusion. High blood levels of calcium also can cause heart rhythm abnormalities. Calcinosis, the deposition of calcium and phosphate in soft tissues like the kidney can be caused by vitamin D toxicity.
Consuming too much vitamin D through diet alone is not likely unless you routinely consume large amounts of cod liver oil. It is much more likely to occur from high intakes of vitamin D in supplements. The Food and Nutrition Board of the Institute of Medicine considers an intake of 1,000 IU for infants up to 12 months of age and 2,000 IU for children, adults, pregnant, and lactating women to be the tolerable upper intake level. Daily intake above this level increases the risk of adverse health effects and is not advised.
Since I haven't been swilling down large amounts of cod liver oil (my god, the though boggles my mind), something else is going on. My PTH is high as well, but clearly it's not from lack of vitamin D; rather, it's more a function of my body working harder, post-op, to absorb calcium.
What does vitamin D have to do with PTH?
If you do not have enough vitamin D, your body will not be able to absorb calcium properly. Vitamin D regulates the intestinal absorption of calcium, while PTH regulates the activation of vitamin D. Too much and too little vitamin D can imbalance calcium metabolism.
But here's the thing (and this is a tad more to the point, I believe): as I recall, high PTH and calcium values can indicate that calcium is being leeched from bone. My actual calcium level is okay: 9.1 (normal is 8.6 -10.2) -- but that doesn't mean my body still doesn't have to work hard to absorb it. I had a dexascan about a year ago and all was well. I'd like to keep it that way.
So I think the high PTH and increased D are about needing to increase my calcium. If I had more of it, my body would probably have to work less to get it and leave my bones alone! To head off any problems at the pass, henceforth I'm going to be particularly vigilant about that particular supplement. I've been a little lax with calcium tablets (ahem) because they need to be spaced out throughout the day, and I'm terrible at remembering to take it as the day progresses.
(Yeah, well, get over it, you know? No excuses!)
My triumph for the day yesterday was that I did not stress-eat after the hideous faculty meeting (words cannot describe how dysfunctional the whole scene was, so I won't even begin to try), though I did deliberately allow myself a rum-and-diet coke later in the evening. Okay, two.
In the clear light of a new day, I feel good about how I handled myself during those two hours of fierce aggression and even vitriol, though most of it was not directed at me, per se, but at the search committee of which I was a part and at some of the other members on it. A fellow search committee member told me last night that I had the "lowest tone and the calmest voice" in the room when I chose to speak, which was certainly true: I kept my cool, spoke only when necessary -- to points rather than gibes -- and so all in all I acquitted myself well.
As for the folks who were acting out departmental and personal dramas of various kinds in public, that's their problem!
So I feel focused today as the semester comes to an end. I need to move through a little grading today at home, hold office hours this afternoon, and evaluate student group presentations in my class tonight.
Yesterday I dressed well and met my protein and nutritional needs. Today I'm going to dress more funkily and creatively (hey, one can do that in a theatre arts/film department during the last week), enjoy that, take care of myself, and be there for myself and students.
Come the end of the semester? I'm going to take that cruise to Alaska, come home, take care of myself and my family, and devote myself to my own research. Mine is a 9-month contract (though I'm paid over 12 months for that work): no campus/administrative work for me this summer.
The rest of it -- the drama, hysteria, and dysfunction? Others can work can themselves up into a frenzy over it all if they want to. Knock yourselves out, guys. But not me -- no, sir!
Today's round of emails have given me a little hope for tomorrow -- not for a pleasant or productive meeting but for my emotional and critical distance from it.
No matter how some of my colleagues behave, no matter what they say or do, I can behave professionally and with dignity. And therein lies my power.
(I also plan to dress well and look damn good, just for the sake of my own morale!)
Zen, man. Zen.
Three weeks until our Alaska cruise -- man, it can't come soon enough.
This weekend there's lots of behind-the-scenes departmental drama about the recent chair search (a.k.a. the Search That Wouldn't Die). Candidate #1 declined our offer; there's plenty of politicking around candidate #2, and apparently there's a meeting on Monday, called by the dean, for the search committee (of which I'm a member) to explain the selection of #2 to all faculty and staff. (Which, incidentally, we did, weeks ago.) What folks really want is a breakdown of who voted for whom.
"Are you now or have you ever been a member of XY's supporters?"
I'll go to the meeting, but if that's the way it's going to come down, then I'm not playing -- other than to observe that I'm not because I prefer not to engage in McCarthy-ite dynamics. (Yeah, I know: that'll go over well.)
A couple of my colleagues on the search committee are worried about the impact that all this drama will have on my RTP process. Oddly enough, I'm not worried. Not for that reason. Much.
Link: Weight Loss Surgery Without Incisions? It's a First in San Francisco.
StomaphyX™is for patients that have undergone either gastric bypass, vertical sleeve gastrectomy or the duodenal switch and have not reached their goal weight due to setbacks ranging from an expanded pouch to post-operative complications. It is already gaining popularity due to its advantages. "Not only can patients go home the same day, the procedure is approximately 30 minutes and much safer than traditional surgery. There are no incisions inside the organs or outside the skin", according to board-certified Dr. Cirangle, adding "Patients don't have to worry about the complications of the more invasive revisional surgery, such as incisional herniation, infection, adhesions and scarring." Most patients can return to their normal daily routine the next day.
Interesting that this is being marketed toward WLS patients who have either regained or not lost as much weight weight as they want.
Wonder what the stats are for complications. And for its possible potential to deemphasize the importance of making real changes in eating patterns and lifestyle following any form of WLS in order to achieve long-term success.
I also wonder how many WLS patients will seek out this procedure.
Okay, I'm feeling better now.
Day is (just) breaking and I've made a pot of fresh coffee to wake me up and to send off in a thermos with my husband for his overnight trip.
Despite (or because of!) the caffeine, my anxiety is receding -- no more feeling of an anxiety attack in the offing. (Thank god -- I don't have that feeling very often anymore, but when I do, it sucks.)
I've just had a (relatively) high-protein bagel (yes, there are such things) with cream cheese. I decided to take the carb hit for comfort (uh, emotional eating, anyone?), but at least the protein count was pretty good. Shortly I'll have a protein shake. That'll put me at 50 grams of protein by 8 a.m. or so, so I'll be well on my way for the day (I've been shooting for getting in 80-100 grams a day.)
Speaking of which, though my PCP said my protein is a bit low, I looked at my labs when I got the results in the mail the other day, and it's actually a bit higher than it was a year ago, which is good news. Still, I'm now aiming for 100-120 grams a day for a while, and for me that's going to mean supplementing each and every day with a shake. (I really am thinking that too much meat backs me up.)
And speaking of that, my weight's dropped a couple of pounds since a few days ago. That's a good thing for my peace of mind -- and for the feeling of bloat that was plaguing me last week.
I’m up in the middle of the night – woke
up and was too wound up from the day to go back to sleep immediately. I know -- let's blog!
Bottom line: I went from zero to bitch in
about 10 second flat once at Kaiser Emergency. God, the actual intake people aren’t
even medical staff these days. However, I did get the man in ahead of other folks
there, sat with him in the various examining rooms more or less at his request, listened to the doctor tell
him he needed to return home that night (rather than the next day,
when he was scheduled to leave) to see his medical team in there who would might have to perform emergency surgery, and pitched a slight fit when the guy continued to
worry about work and and our program review.
Back out in the waiting room, he got on the
phone with Southwest Airlines which was going to charge him way more for changing
his ticket -- at which point I’d had it: I grabbed his cell phone out of his
hand, went stalking back to the nurse, thrust the phone at her, asked her to
please tell them that it was a MEDICAL EMERGENCY, and returned the phone to him
only after that had been fixed. Then, while he was arranging his flight change, I arranged for the doctor to write a letter
explaining the situation, just in case, and for copies of his records to take back with him.
Afterward I took him back to campus to check
out of his hotel, drove him to watch student films at a campus film festival for about 60 minutes (because
he could see so well – NOT! but he wanted to do it), and then to the airport at 8:30
p.m.
About half an hour later: You know what? I am a mess right now! For reasons too numerous to list here but of which I'm all too aware as I think about them, today was just a triggering series of events on several fronts -- hence my insomnia and, now, the small flickerings of an anxiety attack in the offing.
I think I'll be fine: I'm going to stay up another few hours, see my husband off on his overnight hang-gliding trip, and then take myself back to bed for a serious lie-in. In the meantime, I'm going to do my best to breathe, chill out, get grounded, and regroup. The solitude and the sleep should relax me.
And hey, to make sure they do, there's always Ativan if needed. That's what that long-standing prescription of 11 years is for, after all.
Barack Obama: The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream
In progress.
James A. Michener: Alaska: A Novel
In progress. My friend and traveling companion on our upcoming Alaska cruise, D, gave me this book for Christmas. I'd better start it now if I want to have it finished by the end of May because, like all other Michener works, it's a tome and begins at the dawn of frickin' time with tectonic plates forming ...
Dana Stabenow: A Cold Day for Murder (Kate Shugak Mystery)
First in the series, courtesy of Sparkly Jules. In progress.
Diana Gabaldon: Outlander
(****)
Ian McEwan: Saturday
(***)
Ian McEwan: Atonement
(****)
Daniel Mendelsohn: The Lost: A Search for Six of Six Million
(*****)
Adele Geras: A Hidden Life
(****)
Louise Steinman: The Souvenir: A Daughter Discovers Her Father's War
(***)
Shaun Tan: Arrival
(*****)
Sebastian Faulks: Engleby
(****)
Anne Perry: The Face of a Stranger : A Victorian Mystery
(**)
Emilie Carles: A Life of Her Own: The Transformation of a Countrywoman in 20th-Century France
(****)
Anne Brontë: Agnes Grey
(***)
Charlotte Bronte: Villette
(****)
Elizabeth Enright: Spiderweb for Two: A Melendy Maze
(*****)
Harry Bernstein: The Invisible Wall: A Love Story That Broke Barriers
(***)
Frances Hodgson Burnett: The Head of the House of Coombe
(***)
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