Tell The Scale to Shut Up

Scale

My weight didn’t vary a lot in my thirties and forties. There was a brief period of time around the turn of the century when I was consulting, which meant I lived on the road and ate out and drank more than usual, where I puffed up like a blowfish. When that gig ended and I got a job in Connecticut, I got on the scale and was aghast that I was thirty pounds heavier and exceeded two hundred pounds for the first time in my life. Around that same time, K asked how I would feel about going on a diet together, which was fortuitous timing. I lost seven pounds the first week (she lost 2 and hated me), and within three months I lost all the weight I had gained, and then some.

Since then, I have been able to maintain that weight for the most part. There might have been an occasion where my work clothes felt snugger than I liked, but I would fetch my diet crutch (WW) and get back to where I wanted to be in a reasonably short period of time.

My battle of the bulge took a different turn when MS dug it’s hooks into me. During the summer and warm weather months, I could still work in the yard and generally not sit around as much, which meant I was more active and ate less. Winter was a different story, where other than snow removal, I would come home from work, get into my sweats, plop myself in from of the television, and snack. Thus began the viscous cycle of gaining ten to fifteen pounds of winter fat, and losing most of it between April and October. Keep in mind I said most of it, which means that each year I was a little heavier than the year before.

This past winter was no different, and by the time April rolled around, buttoning my slacks and the collar of my shirts became a struggle, so back onto WW I went. The only problem is once I shed about half the amount I wanted, my clothes became comfortable again. I lost my mojo, decided that counting points and weighing food was more of a pain in the ass than it was worth, and started to wing it, which never works.

So I am currently in no-man’s land. I have not reached my weight goal, but am not invested in the process of getting there. Meanwhile the scale has become my enemy.

While K would argue this point, it isn’t that I eat badly. Other than coffee, I don’t eat breakfast, and lunch usually consists of a large Tupperware container of cut up vegetables, sunflower seeds and cheese, followed by a piece of fruit. I also don’t pig out at dinner. My problem is I like to snack at night. So it is not necessarily what I eat, but when.

Part of this struggle I’m sure is age. As the stench of 60 gets closer, my metabolism is slower, and my energy isn’t what it used to be. It’s getting to the point where since it is so hard to shed the weight and so easy to put it back on, part of me that thinks, why bother anymore? I’ve reached a stage of my life where I shouldn’t have to worry about this kind of stuff. It’s not like I have to get leaner because I’m on the prowl to find a partner in life, or want to get naked with some chickie to get my rocks off. So what if I’m a little heavier. I wear it well. All I have to do is buy some new clothes and not get huge.

If it were only that simple. First of all, I’m self conscious about the way I look, and am harsh on myself in that regard. If you saw me I am sure you would ask what the big deal was, and tell me I’m being too hard on myself. And you would be correct. The problem is I think I should have the body I had in my thirties and forties. Hey, I never said I was rationale.

Secondly, I have a hard enough time dragging this carcass around, with the MS. Having to carry excess weight makes it that much harder, so it behooves me to find a happy medium. As sedentary as I have become, I know that eating well, and maintaining a healthy weight is important for my overall health, MS not withstanding. The problem is that what medical professionals consider a healthy weight for someone my age and height is simply not going to happen.

Lastly, I am cheap when it comes to spending money on myself. The idea of buying new clothes because I don’t have the discipline to lose weight and consistently maintain it so I don’t feel like I am putting ten pounds of sugar into a five pound bag pisses me off.

So, I’m not going to say fuck it and let the weight chips fall where they may. I will try to be a good boy at night and eat healthy snacks. Perhaps I need to listen to what K has long been preaching, which is to eat more during the day so I am not as ravenous at night. I’ll also stick to water and seltzer for weeknight beverages.

I can be a real stubborn guy when I set my mind of something, so I’ll try to keep my weight within a range I can live with. I know there will be rough patches where that is easier said than done, but if those will become fewer and fewer if I follow this plan.

Meanwhile, I will continue to scream at the scale when I don’t.

What The Hell is Happening to Me?!

scream

My response to the treadmill incident was to ignore it. I had no idea what had just happened, instinctively knew it was bad, but my inclination has always been never to worry about something unless I absolutely have to. The episode was short-lived after all and might never return, so why bother?

Two weeks later curiosity got the best of me and I returned to the treadmill, the same thing happened, and I still ignored it.

This ignorant bliss came to a crashing halt several weeks later when I ventured outside to mow the lawn for the first time that spring. I don’t have a big yard, but the house was built on a slope, so the terrain is slanted and the landscaping made the lawn better suited for a push mower. So I grabbed the trusty self-propelled mower, ventured outside and experienced something I will never forget.

I had to stop several times because I lost control of the limb like I did on the treadmill, but it was infinitely worse. I was not on smooth, flat terrain you see, and I rolled the ankle over on three different occasions, once so bad I thought I might have sprained it. When the job was finished, I literally dragged my leg and the lawnmower to the garage. It took much longer for the symptoms to subside, but they did not completely go away this time. I was left with a slightly drooping foot and a very slight but discernible limp.

My bubble had been burst. Fear and panic began to worm their way into my comfortable cocoon of denial, and I wanted to scream. What the hell was happening to me? When I was in the throes of whatever this was, I didn’t have any pain, but the limb simply didn’t function. I didn’t have any point of reference in regards to what this could be, but I knew I had to do something. So I went to an orthopedist.

Tight hamstrings. That was the verdict after I explained the situation and he finished putting me through the paces and examined me, which took only ten minutes. My reaction, although I didn’t say it, was “are you fucking kidding me?” It was humiliating because the guy obviously didn’t have a clue but couldn’t admit it, and probably thought I was a hypochondriac. Being the dumb ass that I was, however, I religiously performed the stretching exercises he gave me for a couple of weeks and it did absolutely nothing in terms of improving my limp or foot drop.

By now I was really beginning to panic. I sensed it was something muscular, and for some reason grasped upon the thought this might be the beginning of Lou Gehrig’s Disease (ALS), which terrified me. I rarely obsess, but could not get this thought out of my head.

By this time, K was becoming concerned as well. I had hidden the entire thing from her until the lawnmower incident, but fessed up afterwards because she could obviously see what was going on. She also tends to worry more than me, so I did not share my ALS concerns because I didn’t want her to go down that rabbit hole.

I knew nothing about neurologists at the time, admitted that I didn’t know what to do, and she suggested I see my chiropractor. After all, he had always helped my occasional lower back issues. Maybe he’d have some insight that more mainstream clinicians didn’t.

So to the chiropractor I went, explained what had happened, including the ortho disaster, and he spent the next hour examining me in a variety of ways. When it was over he said I needed a MRI, and it would provide the answers we were seeking. He also referred me to a neurosurgeon he knew, and told me to make an appointment. I didn’t know it at the time, but he suspected I had a tumor on my spine that needed to come out.

Two weeks later, he called me with the MRI results, explained what they showed, used the term “lesions” and “demylination,”and told me that should I cancel with the neurosurgeon and find a neurologist instead. Afterwards I looked up both terms on the web and saw they were fingerprints of MS.

Although I had not yet been formally diagnosed, in my heart I knew I had MS, and was glad to finally have a name to what was ailing me. Although I knew nothing about the disease, I honestly thought it wasn’t a big deal, and minimized the implications, just like that first time on the treadmill.

What a fool! After I was formally diagnosed and the symptoms became progressively worse, I realized this disease wasn’t to be taken lightly. Once I found the neurologist I’ve been with for about eight years now, I was able to get a handle on it and retard the progression. It obviously has not stopped, but the pace of the progression is nothing compared to those first three years.

Knowing what it was with forced me to plan for a future that had suddenly possessed a lot of uncertainty. But at least I had the keys to the car that would take me down that road.

Diet: Crossing the Rubicon

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I need to lose weight.

For the last several weeks, I have been trying to watch what I eat, and this got me thinking about MS diets. Shortly after I was diagnosed, I asked a naturopath if she had any recommendations regarding a diet that was good for MS, and she responded by handing me a piece of paper that had a number of recommendations.

Among those was that I eliminate all milk and dairy from my diet, most breads and grains, all red meat, and high fat foods, meaning snacks. Alcohol was frowned upon as well. It was so onerous and restrictive that I tossed it in the garbage because there was no way in the world I was going to subject myself to that.

Back then, I was still fairly mobile and active. I was happy with my weight and was in fairly good shape. I already ate a lot of fruits and vegetables, which was strongly recommended, didn’t eat a lot of red meat or a lot of high-fat foods, and wasn’t a big bread guy. As far as I was concerned, my diet followed a lot of what that sheet of paper recommended, so why bother with anything new?

Now, as I’ve gotten older and have become less active, what I eat has become more important. Not because of my symptoms or progression, but because it takes much more effort to drag this carcass around than it used to. So losing a few pounds to lighten the load makes all the sense in the world.

I’m not large by any means, but the sad reality is that the numbers staring up at me from the scale have gotten uglier, are getting close to a number I can not tolerate, and my clothes have become a tad snug. It feels like I’m trying to fit seven pounds of sugar into a five pound bag, and I don’t like that. I also hate the idea of having to buy more clothes because I don’t have the willpower change this situation, and that is usually all the motivation I need to start losing weight.

But I digress.  It has been many years since I discarded that sheet of paper, so before I took the weight loss pledge, I went back on line out of curiosity to see what kind of MS diets exist, and whether any of them would help me lose weight and help my symptoms in the process. While I am sure what follows is not an exclusive list, this is what I found:

The Paleolithic (Paleo) Diet:  A high protein, high fiber diet, similar to those of our prehistoric ancestors, which is why this is also known as the Caveman Diet. I’m not a huge protein guy, so let’s see if there is better fit.

Wahls Diet: Contains some of the Paleo diet, but eliminates all grains, legumes, dairy and eggs. Not for me.

Gluten Free Diet: I think this one is pretty well-known and self-explanatory. We’ll just move onto the next one because I’m not ready to go there.

The Swank Diet: A low fat diet that eliminates all red meat. I don’t think so.

Mediterranean Diet: A low fat diet that emphasizes fruits and vegetables, monounsaturated fats (like olive oil), fish, beans, nuts and whole grains (foods rich in omega 3 fatty acids), limited amounts of red wine and dairy. Now here is something I could easily do, primarily because I already follow most of this, except for the fish part. But will it help me lose weight?

As I was looking this stuff up, I noticed a link that listed seven foods someone with MS should avoid. Those were: Saturated and Trans Fats (thanks for being specific) cow’s milk, sugar, sodium, gluten and refined grains. Bland, bland, bland.

To complicate matters further, information provided by the National MS Society (see https://www.nationalmssociety.org/Research/Research-News-Progress/Diet ) implied that many of the recommendations I’ve already shared are either scientifically inconclusive, or that more research is needed.

As you can see, one diet says do this, and another says no, don’t do that. They contradict one another, so no perfect “MS Diet” exists, which shouldn’t be surprising. After all, while we may experience similar things, everyone different is in terms of our symptoms and progression. Certain drugs work better for some than for others, and I am sure the same applies to diets.

Besides, diet is only one component of a comprehensive health regiment we need to embrace. Getting enough sleep, regular exercise, not smoking and avoiding stress (more on that in a future post) are equally important.

I fail miserably on the sleep front. I wake up too early in the morning, and go to bed too late at night. It is almost 10:15 PM as I’m writing this, and my alarm is set for 4:45 AM. You can do the math, and this is a typical weekday evening for me.  The weekends are better, but don’t compensate for the 5 to 6 hours I get most weeknights. I get scolded a lot for this egregious habit, but this is a routine I developed a long time ago, and habits are hard to break.

Ditto for regular exercise. I have a wonderful piece of exercise equipment in my cellar that I spent big bucks on a few years ago, because it was the only item that would work my entire body that I could actually use. I did use it frequently in the beginning, but that routine was soon interrupted for some unimportant reason, and I have never gotten back onto the wagon.

I don’t smoke, so at least I’m doing something right.  Some will say that I shouldn’t drink either, especially when you consider the IV chemo drugs I’ve taken over the years to slow the progression. Those can do a number on your liver, the argument goes, so why compound it with alcohol? I don’t happen to see it that way because MS has deprived me of a number of things I enjoy, so this is one thing I will continue. In moderation, of course.

See how I’ve strayed off the subject of me needing to lose weight? That’s because this time around, I’m having a really hard time shedding pounds. Ten pounds is my goal, and fifteen would be ideal. This shouldn’t be hard, because the last three times I’ve committed to dieting, I lost 1 to 2 pounds a week on average. So far, I have lost a whopping two pounds in five weeks. BFD.

I know what I’m doing wrong. First, I need to stop snacking at night. But it seems the only way I can do that is to go to bed early, because I can’t eat if I’m sleeping. This would also provide the added bonus of  getting more sleep each night. My problem is that I like to unwind in front of the television at night, usually watching the Red Sox (who are really pissing me off at the moment) which lends itself to craving something salty to eat. Also, I don’t think I’m over-indulging as far as snacks are concerned, and I tend to crunch on items that are low-fat or low on Weight Watcher points (my diet of choice). Unfortunately the scale says otherwise, although it isn’t as if the numbers keep climbing. They just aren’t moving.

Number two, I need to, as my father was fond of saying, get off my dead ass and onto my dying feet, and reintroduce myself to the recumbent exercise machine. It will help my overall fitness, muscle tone, cardiovascular system, and mitigate the fallout from snacking. All I need to do is take that first step and start a routine, because I am a creature of habit, and routine becomes habit. Seems simple, doesn’t it?

The third thing I should do is eliminate alcohol for a while. Not because I drink a lot (I don’t) or because it’s healthier for me or better for my MS (which could be true), but because it puts weight on me faster than anything else. Wine, beer or the hard stuff goes to my waist line faster than salami, pepperoni, cheese or anything like that. Plus, when I do have something to drink, it tends to make me want to eat something. Funny how that works.

All of this makes perfect sense. These three simple things are interlocking pieces of a weight loss puzzle that fit together seamlessly and will provide the result I desire.  Unfortunately, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Do I  have to reach a point where I am completely disgusted with myself before I kick things into gear?  Let’s hope not.

I just need to get my shit together, do what I need to do and stay the course. There is no question in my mind that doing so will get me to where I want to be in two to three months. Then the problem becomes maintaining it, which is a completely different animal.

But let’s cross that bridge when we get there. Meanwhile, wish me luck.