I just got off the floor doing exercises and I am just
soundly pissed. Went to pen the goats
and Mr. Henry in the rain, and my heart beat is racing. I hate exercises. It’s got to go back to the days of mom
forcing me to walk. One day she was
going walking with a friend, I told her I would be right there. I laid on the floor and pretended I tripped
and fell, and was unconscious till she got back. I think she got the point. She never asked me to go walk with her again.
She was obsessed with her weight and made me weigh everyday
for a long time, till I think I finally raised enough hell. She used to write her weight down on a sheet
of paper hanging on the wall above the scale.
Mine was beside her’s. She always
weighed naked too, first thing in the morning.
She would get up at 4 and blaring Gloria Estefan and ride her stationary
bike or walk on the treadmill, even at one time bouncing on her little trampoline. Then of course there was the bar under the
door so she could do sit ups. I think
the funniest thing that ever happened, was one time she was doing pushups or
leg lifts or something like that on the floor, and the dog came up and humped
her arm.
She was obsessed with her diet too. She made us all eat wheat germ, she measured
her food, and ate off a little plate for years and years. I would go to school and come home and
suddenly be on a slim fast diet when I came home. Every time she started me on a
diet or told me we were going to start exercising. I always felt inadequate. Why did she want to change me? Why wasn’t I
fine the way I was? I look back at the
pictures now and do not see a fat woman, perhaps a bit chunky, but dear Gods
not fat. Was it her way to control me,
to compete with me, or was she trying to set a good example and be concerned
about my weight?
At some point I think it all became a revolt. Not just to her regime, but to her entire way
of life. If this was what it was to be a
woman, I didn’t want it. I didn’t want
to cry all the time, manipulate people, be two faced, exercise all the time, and
be obsessed with my health and what others ate around me. But I fear I am repeating myself. I have talked about this subject at length in
both Blood in the Water and Behind a big woman’s eyes.
I have shared on my Facebook, but not recorded it here yet
about the health problems I have been having recently. On the weekend of March 13th, 2016
was a good one. It was a payday weekend
so Jay and I had been grocery shopping, both Saturday and Sunday. I am so pleased to say that with the
breathing exercises , it has been 6 months since I have had an panic attack
strong enough to require a pill. I can
count on my hand the number of times I have even come close in that time
frame. With all that has come to light
about my mom in the last few months (All her sins laid bare), my anxiety is almost completely gone, as I begin to
understand its true root. I have been to
the new Wal-mart on North Market, twice without the need for Sophia. In fact I have not needed her assistance in 3
or 4 months. Just me and Jay, by
ourselves going to Sam’s, Wal-Mart, and Brookshire’s, like normal people. It has been extremely freeing. I understand now that just because I panicked
in a place once, does not necessarily mean I will panic there again. I am treading carefully, but so far it all
seems to be working.
So we are getting in bed Sunday night and I notice that my
feet and legs are really swollen and my toes are red, and they hurt. I thought what the hell is this! Oh crap I am going to have to go to the
Dr. So I cancel my councilor for the
next day and spend all that Monday the 14th, trying to reach my
Dr. When I do hear from them at 5 they
say, “If you are having pain go to the ER.
It may be a blood clot.” Jay
comes home and I tell him the news.
We go across the street to the fire station and get in the
ambulance, because we know we will be seen faster in the ER if I come in this
way. They get me in the back of the
ambulance and they go to take my pressure with that little machine they
have. It is so high it won’t register. I saw it pump up past 252. I am in agony with this thing around my
arm. I try to be good and not
scream. I grab Jay’s hand to get threw
the pain. It is hurting me so bad I left
claw marks and bruises on his hand.
After the 3rd time of it trying to take my pressure and
failing, I tell the EMT. Please no. Don’t let it do it again. At that point he takes it off. When we finally do get a pressure a few
minutes later it is 220/100 or so. We
thought oh this is just a fluke. Nope!
While I am at the ER it never drops below about 160/90,
several times registering over 200. They
do an ultrasound of my legs, no clot!
Thank Holda! X-ray my knee, cause
it has been hurting since I slipped in the bath in December, and do blood
work. Nothing. Dr. walks in after two hours and goes, “I
don’t know what is wrong with you. All
your test are fine. Follow up with your
Primary Care Physician (PCP).”
So I do. Dr. Warren,
pcp, and I have been together lots of years, and I really like him. He’s good people, as my daddy says. I go see him that Wednesday the 16th. He says, “Ilsa I think your pain level is so
high that it has jacked your blood pressure, and that is making you swell.” He
puts me on a new blood pressure med with a diuretic in it. So far it is working. I had gained almost 10 pounds in just water
weight.
In December I took a
gamble and told him again, for the first time in 8 years, that the pain in my
hip never went away. He believed me and
took x-rays of my hip. He did not see
anything. When I go to see him recently
he asks after my hip pain. I tell him the
steroids he gave me last time helped, but we all know we can’t live on steroids
forever. They are bad for your liver and
they make you fat. I tell him, that no,
the pain is less now that I am on daily pain meds, but it still flares up. He takes x-rays of my back, and says, “I
don’t think it is your hip. I think it
is your back. We are going to set you up
with an Orthopedist.”
I went to see the Orthopedist on the 29th, and he
diagnosed me with Pelvic Girdle Dysfunction.
He and I believe the pain is not coming from my hip, but instead from my
sacroiliac joint. An anatomy lesson for
a moment, when your spine quits it forms your sacrum, and that is what your
pelvis is attached to, at the end of your sacrum is your tailbone. This sacroiliac joint is where your sacrum
and your tailbone attach. That is where
my pain is coming from, for years from the left and now from the right as well,
also the pelvic bone in the front, over you bladder and uterus can be infected
and inflamed as well. There seems to be
some kind of imbalance there. It can
happen for no reason at all, or after a trauma.
I have no idea what has caused this.
I know a lot of pregnant women get this, and there is little information
out there, on those that have it, but have never been pregnant. We also discussed my weight did not help all
this.
I am still working on finding out more about this
disease. The Dr. wanted to send me to
Physical Therapy. The insurance says, no
probable. You are covered. It’s a $100 per visit. So if I am to go 3 times a week, it will be
$300 a week. Um, no. Sorry.
So I am going to have to do the exercises I have in the little book the
Orthopedist sent me home with, and whatever information I can find on
line.
And on top of everything else, cause you know the Gods love
me so much, I got Pink Eye. From where
and who, I know not. So I go see Dr.
Warren on the 30th. He says,
blood pressure is a little better, but he wants to up me on meds again. Warren confirms Pink Eye, and then begins to
have the dreaded weight talk with me. We
have been down this road many times before.
I tell him I am walking, in short spurts everyday. It is one of the few things that helps the
pain in my legs. He tells me to cut out
carbs and eat more vegetables. I tell
him I can’t afford vegetables. I tell
him I can’t cut out carbs with a husband who loves rice, gravy, sweet tea, and
biscuits, and does not considerate a complete meal without a carb in it! So poor Dr. Warren is trying to fight poverty
and hundreds of years of Southern tradition.
We talk about me seeing a nutritionist.
I am down for that. Insurance
says, sure no probable. You are
covered. It’s a $100 a visit. Ugh!
Beat head against the desk!
So it looks like my options are grow my own food, walk, and
do floor exercises at home. We have been here before, and failed many,
many times. I have no idea why this time
would be any different. Just, just when
I am getting to a point about changing my relationship with food, they ask me
to lose weight again, and all this garbage starts coming up. I was just beginning to think of food as
magic. And seeing that I am classist
when it comes to eating some of the poverty foods that others in the South grew
up on, that experts are now saying are so good for us, beans and greens, squash
and tomatoes. Y’all know when I ended up
in the hospital (A little crazy, just like me)
a week after I saw the nutritionist. I
tried following it for a week, but felt such pressure I believe that is what
caused that first major panic attack.
That and it was close to Oma’s death date.
All of this has happened just as I was having a small
miracle in my life occur. I love sweets,
and I am crazy for chocolate. I have
been for years. But I think I am losing
my obsession with it? I am not sure
about all of this myself. It is too new
for me. The girls in OA used to say that
after they had been off of sugar for a while, they were relieved of their sugar
cravings. Not me. There was never a day that I didn’t crave
sugar, even though I had been abstinent from it for almost a year. It never left me.
Now I am doing things like sitting on the couch with a bag
of carrots, munching my heart out. Weeks
before Dr. Warren told me to lose weight.
When I want crunch and sweet, I am craving apples, not fiddle
faddle. I am even now interested in learning
how to cook more fresh vegetables, like greens.
I am serious here people, if you know how to message me. It’s odd and bizarre to me. I have changed nothing in my diet to have
this occur. The only thing I can tie
this all to is a recurring thought I have had.
As a child I remember thinking, I need to gain weight so
that people will think that I am Daddy (Jef’s) child, to hide and conceal the
fact that I was a Smith, that I was really Beau’s child. In the last few months as I have begun to
understand the depths of my mother’s lies and the affect it has had on my
psyche. I have come to believe it is not
a bad think to be Beau Smith’s child. It
is nothing I need to conceal, or hide, or fight. That it is perfectly fine for me to go back
to being the thin, athletic, and beautiful girl I was like when I was 6 years
old.
As I have sat with the Smith family over these last few
holidays, and I as I plan for more with them, they are not that much different
than the Fisher’s. They love each other,
they try to understand and support each other, even if they don’t agree with what
the other is doing. Yes some of them are
confused as to who their real dad is. It
doesn’t matter. They are not the bad,
stupid, dirty, disgusting people, I was told they were. I feel loved and accepted when I am with
them, although I am not sure they all understand that I am a witch and democrat. I am not sure I will tell them, I am
terrified they will ask me to leave, but then again I have a lingering
suspicion that they might not. Every
time I am with them, just like every time I am with JM, Elisha, and Ashley they
heal me. I come home smiling so much my
face hurts.
I am just not sure of any of this. It is all still a work in progress. I will keep y’all up to date.
Ilsa
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