“Imperative” with “goals” makes me cringe but after sitting here last night and then again this morning trying to come up with a title, something I must do before I can even write (I know, I know), for what felt like forEVAH, that’s what I went with. Imperative goals, a misnomer on a grand scale. Also, it belies intent or, perhaps, gives a ‘fail’ excuse before even trying.
(The other title I kept coming to was “We’re a bunch of fatties” but I just couldn’t go with that one.)
Bear, my oldest, hurt his bad hip a little over a month ago. He’s been bumped around to different doctors, most of which say ‘I’ve never seen anything like this and will need opinion from yet another doctor’, a LOT! His hip has to be replaced, something they all agree on. He finally got in to an actual hip replacement surgeon this week. This surgeon is sending his records up to Mayo for advice and, in the mean time, Bear will be getting cortisone injections. It’s not just because the surgeon wants the specialists up at Mayo (where he had his first hip replacement) to weigh in but also because Bear has to lose weight first. He was told, basically, ‘Your weight brings possible complications we’d rather not risk if we don’t have to’.
His weight has been the topic of a thousand conversations between us. I’ve been very concerned for years, as has he. He has all the will power in the world until he sees food, then his impulse control issues kick in. He’s always loved food, and I mean LOVED FOOD, to the point that 99.98% of his childhood memories revolve around food. If food wasn’t part of this or that, he doesn’t remember! He, simply put, must lose weight!
Britt, his fiancée’ has a history of back problems. She’s always pulling muscles and thinking she’s herniated a disc. Her pregnancy with Boo was horrible the last couple of months (though, she doesn’t remember the pain now, heh) that consisted of her sitting on the couch, all the time, in tears, because her back hurt so badly. Last week she was diagnosed with a condition that’s called “Degenerative Disc Disease“, even though, technically, it’s not a disease. This is in her lower back and the cause of the near chronic pain she’s been in the last few years. Although she unabashedly will spit out what she weighs if asked, I’m not going there. I will say this, however. Her weight concerns me greatly, especially because she’s my grand daughter’s mother. She was told she has to lose weight or her condition will deteriorate much faster.
My daughter, who I call “Babygirl” on my blog, is starting to show signs of sleep apnea. Mike’s mom had it, he has it (two types!) and Bear has it as well. I don’t know if this could be a hereditary thing but I do know too much weight can bring on sleep apnea in some people. She’s complaining more of pain in her hips (the condition Bear has, she’s borderline on), she’s sleeping more and more trying to combat her fatigue, she’s having more problems breathing at night and her snoring is growing in both intensity and sound level. Like her big brother, she has impulse control issues, something I’ve always found odd given how incredibly stubborn she can be at times! I am 90% positive most of this, if not all of it, would go away or lessen by a mile, if she’d lose weight.
Me. I am fat. Whale-sized fat. My weight, outside of Boo and Babygirl’s boyfriend, is the least in our house, but … I see myself as the Michelin Man and am rather vocal about that at home, which is what leads my insubordinate daughter to take pictures of me when I’m walking across the yard in the wind. She is bound and determined to “prove” to me I’m not as fat as I think I am and I must admit, her pictures of the wind blowing my baggy shirts against me do surprise me. Still, I see myself in the mirror and I don’t like it. I lost 50 pounds before starting the (low-dose) chemo and, like an idiot, gained half of it back afterwards. My problem is energy levels (I don’t feel like doing much) and my urge to fill my stomach with whatever I can get my hands on when the medication gives me that awful burning-stomach thing.
Bad idea, people. It doesn’t help, just makes you feel worse afterwards.
Oh, and I’m a late night snacker.
Then there’s Mike. He’s spent the last 20 (almost 21) years in a truck driving across the country. He doesn’t get much exercise, tends to buy whatever’s cheapest to snack on and has been very overweight most of his life. I think he weighs a little more than Bear does again and this concerns me greatly. He’s certainly gotten a veritable CRAP-TON of exercise since he’s been out of work because he can’t NOT do when the sun is up, but he’s also addicted to ice cream and must have two bowls every night. Oh, and he’ll skip meals like it’s nothing because he’s accustomed to doing so when he’s working.
We all need to get serious about our lifestyle! We need to eat better, sleep better and increase our activity across the board. Last night’s supper was a good one. I steamed corn and broccoli and served it with cucumber soup. I also sliced up the last half of a loaf of french bread and warmed it through just to get rid of it, but didn’t have any myself. Corn isn’t the greatest, I know, but there are worse things, no? It’s a start, one I plan to continue. Mike has taken to using my exercise bike in the evenings when watching TV and Bear and Britt took a walk down to the bridge last night.
It’s imperative that we each lose weight. It’s baby steps right now but I really hope these steps can lead to lifestyle changes we can each build on. We need to take these goals and turn them into habits.