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Monday, June 27, 2011
The Men in My Life: A Group Hug
It's easy to forget, sometimes, just how blessed we are.
I am grateful everyday for the love and support of my family, but times like these remind me just how extraordinary they all are. Take my husband, for example.
We live so far out in the country, we have to pipe in the sunshine.
Not really. We get plenty of sunshine, but TV and high-speed internet are only available by satellite. Cell phone access is sketchy at best and conveniently located universities are non-existent. Gas is too expensive to commute 200 miles everyday. So, part of the decision-making process for me when choosing a school involved what to do with my husband. Do we try to find housing near the school where we can live together? Maybe we could live out of our travel trailer in a nearby campground? Or should I live on campus and leave my husband at home? I left the decision up to him. He chose to stay at home where he would be more comfortable. I'll stay in the city during the week and go home on weekends.
My husband is willing to make that big, lonely sacrifice because he understands how important it is to our financial security for me to further my education. He also understands how important it is to me individually to achieve this goal. In fact, he's my greatest supporter. He's taken an active interest in the enrollment process, discussing my course choices, housing options, meal plans, whether I should take my bicycle...everything. It's just so sweet and cute when he says things like, "I can see you graduating as the valedictorian of your class." "Not likely," I tell him. But I love hearing him say it. His faith in me bolsters my courage.
Then there are our three fine sons...
They think it is too cool that Mom is going to college. The youngest will begin his final year at LSU this fall. I called him for advice on dorm living. "Be careful, Mom," he said. "If your roommates are underage, they'll try to get you to buy beer for them." Uh.....no. Not happening. I'm not anti-alcohol, but I'm definitely anti-contributing-to-the-delinquency-of-a-minor. I had to laugh.
The parent has become the child.
I learned today that they've been discussing (behind my back) how to help with my expenses. The oldest told me not to worry, "We'll get it all taken care of." I've tried to tell them they don't have to help me, but they're not listening. In fact, they've informed me that I can no longer dictate how they spend their money. The nerve! How dare they speak to me that way???
It seems the love I've invested in my menfolk is paying dividends.
"Just consider it pay back," said my youngest. Would someone please pass me a Kleenex?
I am grateful everyday for the love and support of my family, but times like these remind me just how extraordinary they all are. Take my husband, for example.
 |
| My Sweetheart and Me, May 2010 |
Not really. We get plenty of sunshine, but TV and high-speed internet are only available by satellite. Cell phone access is sketchy at best and conveniently located universities are non-existent. Gas is too expensive to commute 200 miles everyday. So, part of the decision-making process for me when choosing a school involved what to do with my husband. Do we try to find housing near the school where we can live together? Maybe we could live out of our travel trailer in a nearby campground? Or should I live on campus and leave my husband at home? I left the decision up to him. He chose to stay at home where he would be more comfortable. I'll stay in the city during the week and go home on weekends.
My husband is willing to make that big, lonely sacrifice because he understands how important it is to our financial security for me to further my education. He also understands how important it is to me individually to achieve this goal. In fact, he's my greatest supporter. He's taken an active interest in the enrollment process, discussing my course choices, housing options, meal plans, whether I should take my bicycle...everything. It's just so sweet and cute when he says things like, "I can see you graduating as the valedictorian of your class." "Not likely," I tell him. But I love hearing him say it. His faith in me bolsters my courage.
Then there are our three fine sons...
 |
| Who Gave Them Permission to Grow Up??? |
The parent has become the child.
I learned today that they've been discussing (behind my back) how to help with my expenses. The oldest told me not to worry, "We'll get it all taken care of." I've tried to tell them they don't have to help me, but they're not listening. In fact, they've informed me that I can no longer dictate how they spend their money. The nerve! How dare they speak to me that way???
It seems the love I've invested in my menfolk is paying dividends.
"Just consider it pay back," said my youngest. Would someone please pass me a Kleenex?
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Higher Level Reconstruction
Okay, I've been remodeling myself,
ever so slowly, since October 2001. To continue the construction metaphor, I can say that, so far, I've kept the strong foundation my wonderful parents laid for me. I've given my exterior a makeover. Now, I'm working on my interior. Like any major remodeling job, a lot of things have to be torn out before the improvements can be installed. Out with the negative thinking! Out with the poor food choices! Out with the self-destructive behavior! In with the positive thoughts, energy, and actions that will get the result I'm looking for. What result would that be?
I want to be salable!
Do I need to mention the economy sucks? I know a perfectly charming, extremely bright, recent cum laude college graduate who was recognized for her exceptional academic record by being invited by the White House to attend one of the many inaugural parties after the last presidential election. Now, she's working part-time as a bank teller, and she struggled to get that job.
I didn't earn a 4-year degree. I went to paramedic school, took a few college courses, and managed to parlay that into an acceptable career. I wasn't on track to be rich, but I was solidly in the middle-income bracket. I'm pretty bright, too, (though I haven't been invited to the White House....yet) and I have more than 20 years of work experience, much of it managerial. I never had a problem getting a job before my medical problems became insurmountable. Now, nobody wants me. I've tried. Why hire an older, less educated person who's been out of the game for 5 years when you can get a young, healthy, college grad at entry level pay? I think, since I've lost so much weight, I might be healthy enough to go back to work. I just can't sell myself to an employer. What can I do about that?
I've arrived at a few conclusions:
I simply have to do it.
And so I shall.
I'm enrolled at the University of New Orleans. My classes will begin in August. Can you see this 52-year-old mother and grandmother living on campus, hanging out with the youngsters, doing the college thing? I think it's hilarious, amazing, and incredible. I hope it will be fun.
Mostly, I hope my heart and my husband will hang in there long enough for me to finish. My husband understands why this is important to me individually and to us financially. He's always been my best friend and greatest supporter, but I'm asking a lot of him this time. My heart, on the other hand, has not been so cooperative or supportive. I'm asking a lot of it, too. May God grant me, my husband, and my heart, the strength and courage to do this.
You've been kind enough to read this far,
perhaps you'll stick with me as I chronicle the remainder of my reconstruction project. From now on, I'll be writing about my back-to-school experiences. I'll never know what living on campus as a young adult is like. I missed out on that one. However, the older-woman-on-campus experience promises to be intriguing. How will the young people respond to me? How will I respond to them? Will I be able to see from the back of the classroom while wearing my reading glasses? Can I wear my contacts and reading glasses at the same time? Should I invest in bifocals? Can I find a good hairdresser on campus to cover my grays? How will I manage to complete all my reading assignments without falling asleep over my books? How much can I cram into my room? How much can I cram into my little refrigerator? Who's going to help me carry that fridge on moving days? Can I sneak in a hot plate to cook on? Will I have to worry about my roommates stealing my nitroglycerine tablets? So many questions, so much time...
ever so slowly, since October 2001. To continue the construction metaphor, I can say that, so far, I've kept the strong foundation my wonderful parents laid for me. I've given my exterior a makeover. Now, I'm working on my interior. Like any major remodeling job, a lot of things have to be torn out before the improvements can be installed. Out with the negative thinking! Out with the poor food choices! Out with the self-destructive behavior! In with the positive thoughts, energy, and actions that will get the result I'm looking for. What result would that be?
I want to be salable!
Do I need to mention the economy sucks? I know a perfectly charming, extremely bright, recent cum laude college graduate who was recognized for her exceptional academic record by being invited by the White House to attend one of the many inaugural parties after the last presidential election. Now, she's working part-time as a bank teller, and she struggled to get that job.
I didn't earn a 4-year degree. I went to paramedic school, took a few college courses, and managed to parlay that into an acceptable career. I wasn't on track to be rich, but I was solidly in the middle-income bracket. I'm pretty bright, too, (though I haven't been invited to the White House....yet) and I have more than 20 years of work experience, much of it managerial. I never had a problem getting a job before my medical problems became insurmountable. Now, nobody wants me. I've tried. Why hire an older, less educated person who's been out of the game for 5 years when you can get a young, healthy, college grad at entry level pay? I think, since I've lost so much weight, I might be healthy enough to go back to work. I just can't sell myself to an employer. What can I do about that?
I've arrived at a few conclusions:
- I'm really tired of pinching every penny, trying to make ends meet on a disability pension, knowing things are only going to get worse. I'm tired of looking at a future that's going no where.
- I want to start my own business, one that uses my mind more and my body less. I never want to depend on the whims of an employer again.
- Earning a degree will give me the knowledge and credentials I need to credible and competitive.
- I WANT my degree. I've always wanted it. It's important to my self-image. I feel incomplete without it. I feel "unsalable" without it. Now it's time to get it!
I simply have to do it.
And so I shall.
I'm enrolled at the University of New Orleans. My classes will begin in August. Can you see this 52-year-old mother and grandmother living on campus, hanging out with the youngsters, doing the college thing? I think it's hilarious, amazing, and incredible. I hope it will be fun.
Mostly, I hope my heart and my husband will hang in there long enough for me to finish. My husband understands why this is important to me individually and to us financially. He's always been my best friend and greatest supporter, but I'm asking a lot of him this time. My heart, on the other hand, has not been so cooperative or supportive. I'm asking a lot of it, too. May God grant me, my husband, and my heart, the strength and courage to do this.
You've been kind enough to read this far,
perhaps you'll stick with me as I chronicle the remainder of my reconstruction project. From now on, I'll be writing about my back-to-school experiences. I'll never know what living on campus as a young adult is like. I missed out on that one. However, the older-woman-on-campus experience promises to be intriguing. How will the young people respond to me? How will I respond to them? Will I be able to see from the back of the classroom while wearing my reading glasses? Can I wear my contacts and reading glasses at the same time? Should I invest in bifocals? Can I find a good hairdresser on campus to cover my grays? How will I manage to complete all my reading assignments without falling asleep over my books? How much can I cram into my room? How much can I cram into my little refrigerator? Who's going to help me carry that fridge on moving days? Can I sneak in a hot plate to cook on? Will I have to worry about my roommates stealing my nitroglycerine tablets? So many questions, so much time...
Friday, June 17, 2011
The Skinny on Getting Skinny
 |
| November 2007 |
No, I won't tell you how much I weighed when this picture was taken. It's obvious that my weight was totally out of control and it was killing me. My poor, sad, defective heart simply could not sustain me at this weight. How did I get this way? I could blame severe hypothyroidism and fibromyalgia. I have those problems, too, and they definitely were contributing factors. But, to be totally honest (a virtue I had to embrace in order to lose weight), it was mostly my own fault. I was never a glutton, but I made terrible food choices. And as my heart problems worsened, I became increasingly sedentary. The more weight I gained, the worse I felt, the more depressed I became, and the more I sought comfort in food. It was a vicious cycle. How did I break out of it?
Medicare saved my life...
 |
| November 2010 |
Some people may think it's wrong for Medicare to pay for gastric bypass surgery, as it did for me. But it really was and continues to be cost-effective. Remember, I was hospitalized 8 times in 2006. My husband's group insurance company paid more for each individual hospitalization than Medicare paid for my surgery. I've lost almost 200 pounds and I've only been hospitalized once since my surgery, 19 months ago. In addition, I no longer need to take several of the prescription medications I was taking before weight loss surgery, resulting in more cost savings.
A Much Happier Camper!
So, I had the surgery, and I'm so glad I did. I feel better about myself and my future. Was it cheating? Some people think so, but I don't. Weight loss surgery is simply a tool. It does not guarantee long-term, permanent weight loss. You may be able to eat only a little a time, but a few M & M's eaten all day long will eventually add up. You have to wrap your head around changing your inner self, not your outward appearance. Remember, I said I was never a glutton, but I made terrible food choices? I had to relearn how to eat and I had to make a commitment to making healthy choices FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. Many people, with or without having weight loss surgery, lose a lot of weight only to regain it one or two or five years down the road. As with alcoholism or drug addiction, maintaining weight loss, like sobriety, is a one day at a time business. Everyday, I strive to keep the weight off. Because of my heart, I'm still not able to be as physically active as I would like, but I try to keep moving with things like gardening. I've learned to use less fattening ingredients and techniques when I cook. Also, I think about every bite I put in my mouth and usually make the right choice. However, chocolate will always be an essential female hormone, at least for me, and a Twix now and then is irresistible. Ah well, we all have our Achilles heels, don't we?
 | ||
| Cherry Tomatoes From My Garden |
I'm beginning to feel like I might be able to go back to work. I don't enjoy riding the entitlement bus. It's a drain on society and there's no future and very little security in it. I want to get back in the game, coach! I just have a little more work to do.
Next: Higher Level Reconstruction
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Thursday, June 16, 2011
Call me Edie....
Hey, it worked for Herman Melville,
and I have to start somewhere. Why am I blogging? Mostly for myself. To put it simply, I was waiting to die. Now I'm dying to live. So much has changed and continues to change in my life, and blogging seems like a great way to put it all into perspective. And maybe, just maybe, my story will inspire someone.
I can mark the day my life changed forever:
October 26, 2001. That day I learned I had a congenital defect in my left main coronary artery. It was a potential killer. Three days later my chest was carved open, my ribcage sawed apart, and two bypass grafts were created around the defect. I woke up in ICU with 7 tubes coming out of various natural and man-made body orifices, a ventilator controlling my breathing, and several other machines beeping, buzzing, humming, and chirping as each played its part in keeping me alive. Years later, I still shudder when I think of it. Having open heart surgery is, to me, as close to being treated like a side a beef as a person can get. I found it dehumanizing.
Okay, that was 9 years, 7 months, and 18 days ago - why is it important now?
Because my old life was destroyed that day and I've been under reconstruction ever since. Because the progress has been slow and almost imperceptible until now. And because I see myself differently now, like a block of marble that has been slowly and painstakingly chipped at until, at last, it looks more like a human than a lump of stone. The sculpture is not complete, but there's enough form visible to create a little excitement.
But before we get to the good part, we have to get past the bad part.
Heart surgery didn't fix me. I continued to have big problems and by 2006, a year in which I was hospitalized 8 times in as many months, I couldn't work anymore. Hello Social Security disability! I'm glad it was there for me, but if you think it's a free and happy ride on the entitlement bus, think again. You DON'T get enough money to make ends meet, but you DO get just enough to make you ineligible for any other assistance.
Did you know that Social Security requires you to be disabled at least 2 years before you can receive Medicare benefits? Yep, it's true. Fortunately, my husband had me covered on his insurance plan for those 2+ years. Unfortunately, he was injured on the job and ended up disabled, too. Goodbye group insurance, hello Medicare! It was a bad news/good news thing. Though his insurance was much better in most respects, it wouldn't pay for the surgical procedure that would ultimately save my life. Medicare would. Why? Because someone, somewhere in our overblown, unwieldy, dysfunctional government understood that paying for the surgery was cheaper than paying for the medical treatment I would need for years to come without it. I know, I know. It's hard to believe, given what we hear in the news everyday, that our government ever gets anything right. But, as a former co-worker of mine used to say, "even a blind squirrel finds a nut now and then."
Next: The Skinny on Getting Skinny
and I have to start somewhere. Why am I blogging? Mostly for myself. To put it simply, I was waiting to die. Now I'm dying to live. So much has changed and continues to change in my life, and blogging seems like a great way to put it all into perspective. And maybe, just maybe, my story will inspire someone.
I can mark the day my life changed forever:
October 26, 2001. That day I learned I had a congenital defect in my left main coronary artery. It was a potential killer. Three days later my chest was carved open, my ribcage sawed apart, and two bypass grafts were created around the defect. I woke up in ICU with 7 tubes coming out of various natural and man-made body orifices, a ventilator controlling my breathing, and several other machines beeping, buzzing, humming, and chirping as each played its part in keeping me alive. Years later, I still shudder when I think of it. Having open heart surgery is, to me, as close to being treated like a side a beef as a person can get. I found it dehumanizing.
Okay, that was 9 years, 7 months, and 18 days ago - why is it important now?
Because my old life was destroyed that day and I've been under reconstruction ever since. Because the progress has been slow and almost imperceptible until now. And because I see myself differently now, like a block of marble that has been slowly and painstakingly chipped at until, at last, it looks more like a human than a lump of stone. The sculpture is not complete, but there's enough form visible to create a little excitement.
But before we get to the good part, we have to get past the bad part.
Heart surgery didn't fix me. I continued to have big problems and by 2006, a year in which I was hospitalized 8 times in as many months, I couldn't work anymore. Hello Social Security disability! I'm glad it was there for me, but if you think it's a free and happy ride on the entitlement bus, think again. You DON'T get enough money to make ends meet, but you DO get just enough to make you ineligible for any other assistance.
Did you know that Social Security requires you to be disabled at least 2 years before you can receive Medicare benefits? Yep, it's true. Fortunately, my husband had me covered on his insurance plan for those 2+ years. Unfortunately, he was injured on the job and ended up disabled, too. Goodbye group insurance, hello Medicare! It was a bad news/good news thing. Though his insurance was much better in most respects, it wouldn't pay for the surgical procedure that would ultimately save my life. Medicare would. Why? Because someone, somewhere in our overblown, unwieldy, dysfunctional government understood that paying for the surgery was cheaper than paying for the medical treatment I would need for years to come without it. I know, I know. It's hard to believe, given what we hear in the news everyday, that our government ever gets anything right. But, as a former co-worker of mine used to say, "even a blind squirrel finds a nut now and then."
Next: The Skinny on Getting Skinny
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