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Saturday night began the free for all regarding what I ate.  I was taking care of grandpa, turning him and propping him up with pillows and crushing Valium into applesauce in an attempt to calm him down.  Once he was settled I ordered a pizza.  And then when I came home on Sunday for a three hour break I ripped into a bag of Oreos with a vengeance.  Sunday night found family gathered around, tearfully whispering their good-byes and I love yous, and watching me dribble morphine into his mouth to ease his pain and make breathing a bit easier.  Slower, yes.  But also easier.  Kidney failure leads to flash pulmonary edema.  In other words, he was drowning.  His sons and daughters elected me to be the one to give him the medicine that would make his passing easier.  They wordlessly decided that I would be okay with, in a sense, killing my grandfather.  But whatever—I wasn’t doing it for them.  I did it for him.  He never wanted to suffer that way, struggling and working so damn hard for a single breath.

That night was also filled with meat and cheese trays, soda, and I’m ashamed to admit, one solitary cigarette that was puffed in silence on the porch as I looked to the heavens for strength.  The stars that night were amazing.

This week has been a blur of grief and casseroles and other foods that accompany death or sickness.  Neighbors bring over mysterious hot dishes and you end up eating things that normally you wouldn’t.

I gave myself a pass this week, is what I’m saying.

This morning the scale looked up at me weighing only 2 pounds heavier than before…everything. 

The changes in my body, mood, spirit, and mental health have undergone since May 1st cannot go unnoticed.  My outsides appear pretty much the same, although I have noticed that my skin is much clearer than it was in April.  My mood has been steady and I’m honestly thinking that there might be something to this whole Diet And Exercise approach to healing clinical depression.  I haven’t wanted to sleep a day away this past month.  And usually I want to sleep nearly all my days away.  My spirit has been light and happy.  I can see myself becoming one of those annoying people that claim healthy eating heals everything.  I know how annoying I used to view them, and now I find myself nodding my head in agreement with their exultations while my roommate watches helplessly and thinks I may have gone a bit nutty.  I haven’t had the debilitating menstrual cramps or the astounding rage that usually accompanies my five day tirade of PMS symptoms.

Maybe not ALL of those things have changed because of cutting out meat, refined sugars, dairy, caffeine, and cigarettes.  But it seems like an awfully large coincedence that they all have happened this month, don’t you think?

The weight loss listed on the left was not due to exercise or calorie counting.  It was simply giving up those things.  I had cheese and some refined sugar, but drastically cut my intake by over 80%.  And provided there aren’t any more deaths in the next month, that number will be cut even lower.

I also add exercise this month.  Purposeful, planned movements and gym visits.  I need to start over on the C25K now that I have new shoes and my shins have healed.  If, dog forbid, my shins start to hurt again, I will admit that I’m just too heavy to run right now and will plan to start again once I weigh under 200 pounds.

I’m still on the fence regarding calorie counting vs. weight watcher point counting.  I’ve counted the points and it seems to come easily for me.  I can look at something guess the points with alarming accuracy.  I just need to KEEP counting the points.  Duh, Jen.  Duh.  And counting points is like shorthand math for calorie calculations.  One point equals approximately 50 calories.  I figured out my BMR the other day and then looked at my daily point allowance.  Using the 50 cals=1 point theory…the numbers were nearly identical.  I will make this decision by Monday.

I had the roommate take a “before” picture of me.  I’m undecided if I will post it here.

Okay.  Take a deep breath.  The unplanned uproar of grief and family politics is over. 

Thank goodness.  I can get back to it.

I know the idea is to NOT stray from a healthy lifestyle when these things happen.  I’ll get there.  I’ll keep chugging.  Don’t give up on me because I certainly haven’t given up on myself.  Stay tuned for a workout schedule that is sure to make June a challenge.


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