Blergh. Argh. Snuffle. Cough. Ick

germs

I’m still sick.

I really sook about being unwell, which is very uncool considering –  at worst – I have a cold and maybe a chest infection. There are billions of people in the world doing it tougher than I am right now. So now I’m feeling unwell AND guilty 😦

It’s hard when you are working towards a goal and get sick though. I’m struggling to eat enough (or at all) but my weight is still sitting up on my last check-in weight. Almost a kilo up :/ Nervous about tomorrow now too.

I trained a couple of days ago and that went okay. It stole all my energy for nearly two days though and I’ve decided to hold off on my next session until I pick up a bit.

I also have the niggling fear that being sick is my body sending me warning signs. I’ve said before that my health tends to break down fairly quickly and I’m always watching for it now. The Captain, in his husbandly wisdom, doesn’t think it’s anything to be worried about. And if I can think reasonably, I agree. I’m not run-down. I’m eating a great amount of good quality food. I’m nowhere near over-trained. And I’m sleeping more (or at least going to bed much earlier) than I do when left to my own devices.

I just need this erkiness to bugger-off so I can get back to feeling okay.

But today is Sunday. And Sunday means a frozen-yoghurt date with my kids. So I’m going to wrap up warm, paint some normal looking face back on and go have some fun.

Stay warm, stay healthy,

Bella

In Sickness and in Health

So I’ve been sick this week.

The sort of odd lingering sick that started as a sore throat, a weird taste in my mouth and an upset tummy – and that’s even before it turned nasty. I was in pain and no-one had a real clue what was going on. Maybe it was bad indigestion (so I ate two tubes of Quickeze), maybe it was gastro (or maybe the diarrhoea was caused by eating all the Quickeze?!?) to diet pill abuse (more on this later) and then potential kidney failure.

Fun times.

So, the diet pill abuse suggestion has been a low-light on an otherwise already pretty lame week. I went to a new GP early on in the sickness with a weird taste in my mouth and a pretty sore and upset tummy. Vague chats, no ideas offered until she saw that my last recorded weight at that clinic was over 100kg. And that I was prescribed a pretty shady diet pill at that appointment. So the questions started.

What do you weigh now? – 71kg

So you’ve lost all of that weight since last time you were here? – Yes. It’s been a year.

How many (insert brand name) pills are you taking a day? – (Insert my politely puzzled face)

The pills? I can see where they were prescribed here? Where did you get the repeats?

This is where I had to spend about 15 minutes convincing this person who knows nothing about me that isn’t on a chart that while yes, the drugs were prescribed to me, I lasted less than a week on them before flushing them. This particular diet pill is essentially speed. It made my heart race, my palms sweat, any notion of sleep impossible and made it SUPER CLEAR that I should not and would not be in charge of my then newborn and young child while on it. Maybe my reaction was out of the ordinary , but some quick googling says no.

But New Doctor, feeling all proud of her detective skills is sure that the only way I could have lost 41kg is with these evil things. And that I’m now lying about it. Awesome.

So the questions circle round and around. By the time I’ve explained what I eat, how often I work out, my understanding of my previous and current BMI and the ins and outs of every weigh in this year – she lets it go.

I was angry. I was being judged on who I used to be. I wanted to make a bigger deal of how wrong she was, point out how hard I’ve worked to save my life and why. But I didn’t. I accepted that on her chart, I may very well be the same sad, desperate fat girl looking for the easy out. The girl who was prepared to do anything BUT change her life. It’s like an old photo – you can’t change them, but you can use them to reflect upon.

PS – She still has no idea why I’m sick. And now I’m not a secret junkie, she’s bored with me and tells me to take more Quickeze.

I leave, with my stomach churned up more than it was as I went in. I take some time to think this through and decide that being incorrectly called a diet pill abuser is a compliment. Taking a leaf out of my darling friend Cathy’s book actually. Her AMAZING before and after photos were posted on a facebook page once and almost immediately there was the insinuation that the photos were fakes because the transformation was too dramatic. Lesser mortals would be hurt or offended. Cathy’s take – it’s a compliment. It means that what we have achieved is so awesome it’s beyond what those people can even imagine. And I can be okay with that. And a better GP.

I’m getting better. I’ve seen another doctor and now a naturopath as well. It was a shock to the system being unwell after having nothing more than minor sniffles for the last twelve months. Who’da thunk eating well, moving your ass, reducing stress and having a better outlook on life would make a person so damn healthy?

I was well enough to go back to the gym today for a pretty cruisy session and I’m glad I did. I don’t exercise for any other reason than I love it at the moment. I feel better when I do and looking better is a bonus. It’s a mad mad crazy change from a year ago huh?

People know your name, not your story. They’ve heard what you’ve done, but not what you’ve been through.  So take their opinions of you with a grain of salt.  In the end, it’s not what others think, it’s what you think about yourself that counts.  Sometimes you have to do exactly what’s best for you and your life, not what’s best for everyone else.

**Great thought for the day from the great blog Marc and Angel

Cheers!

Sailor Vee