I had to chuckle at the irony of the title I chose for today's post. Today, it just happens to be pouring rain. Nevertheless, today my dad had his surgery. We had to check in at 5:45 a.m., which for me is far to early to be doing anything, let alone surgery; then again, I wasn't getting the surgery, so never mind the complaining. The surgery, if routine, was supposed to last about three hours. After six hours, the doctor finally came to the waiting room, and after seeing his face, I could tell he didn't have good news. We went into a side consultation room, where the doctor was forced to admit he was unable to completely remove the tumor. It turned out to be a monster, which with a life of it's own, had rooted itself deeply into various parts of my dad's brain. It had grown malignant. The doctor was able to get out most of it, but now my dad faces six months or more of combined chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Today, my dad became a cancer patient.
I may be jumping the gun a little, for the official verdict won't be determined until next Tuesday, when the biopsy is complete. However, the doctor said that it is most likely the case that this tumor is indeed brain cancer. But, when he said that, we couldn't help but look at each other to see if my dad was just handed a death sentence. I shook it off, though; I want to be optimistic. Some microwaving and mustard gas will save the day, right? (For those who don't know, chemo drugs at one time were by-products of mustard gas.) I hope it works, since my dad was "Mister Fix-It" around the house; tonight, already the power was out and the roof started leaking. But, it isn't all gloom and doom; he did eventually wake up several hours later in ICU, and recognized everyone and was responsive. Sadly, his speech was garbled, which is what we were told to expect. At his request, prior to the operation, he asked that he be left alone to rest the first night, which is tonight.
As for my diet? Forget it. We had Chinese for dinner. I didn't fall off the wagon; I jumped. But, I did weigh myself earlier today, and I did lose two pounds. Thank God for little miracles.
I haven't even reached the climax of the day yet. After my dad's surgery, after the news of his grim prognosis and long recovery, after the pouring rain, and after drowning my sorrows in sweet and sour chicken...
...I hit a deer on the way home, while driving my dad's $30,000 leased 2008 Dodge Caravan.
When it rains, it pours.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
"The Wake-Up Call," or "How I Rediscovered Humanity In This World" (pick one)
I couldn't decide on how to title today's screed, so I'm letting you decide for me.
In the last couple of days, I've learned just how fragile life is. And, today, some of my faith in humanity was restored in the process.
Last week, it was discovered that my dad had a large, walnut-sized tumor near the left temple. As of now, we don't know if it's benign or malignant, nor do we know where it came from (the doctor said it didn't originate in the brain, it came from somewhere else, possibly the lungs).
A health scare, I learned, can hit anyone at any time for any reason. My dad exercises daily, eats moderately, has never smoked nor drank alcohol. Some may say he's a total square. In spite of this, he has a lumpy mass growing in his head. I myself used to think walking to the TV to get the remote was exercise, and half a pizza covered the basic food groups, or pyramid, or obelisk, or Temple of Doom; whatever they call it these days. So, bottom line is that a man who respected his body has a serious medical issue, while I, who treated mine like a container from Waste Management, is so far only dealing with some extra weight. There's a disconnect there. Anyway, this obviously has me scared; but, ironically not to the point that I need to wash down the fear with a pint of Chunky Monkey and pilsner (I've done that). In fact, I now value more than ever the need to get healthy myself.
This leads me to my next point: that humanity lives on, and there still is compassion in this world. My mother has had health problems of her own, and is unable to drive. My dad's been grounded from driving until this all has been resolved. My brother is, well, my brother (in all fairness, he's bogged down with classes). So, I've had to step up to help take my dad to appointments, and ultimately his surgery on Thursday. Two details I left out are that I have a full-time job, and that I'm supposed to go away for an entire week next week to a conference related to work. I missed work all day yesterday, and half of today. The executive director pulled me into the office, along with my direct supervisor, and said:
"We put family first in this office. If you need, you may work here in the office next week on a part-time basis so you can be close to your family. If we were in your shoes, we wouldn't want to be a couple hundred miles from our family for a week either."
If anyone remembers the old Bugs Bunny cartoons where a character's jaw drops to the floor in shock and awe (usually either Daffy Duck or Wile E. Coyote), just picture me doing that. This conference is the premier event of the year for the association. For months, it was common knowledge that I would need to be there; but here is the boss' boss, telling me to put family first. I didn't know what to say. Professionalism aside, I wanted to kiss the man, but I opted for a firm handshake. Now, I can tend to the needs of my family without having to worry needlessly. Humanity lives again.
In the last couple of days, I've learned just how fragile life is. And, today, some of my faith in humanity was restored in the process.
Last week, it was discovered that my dad had a large, walnut-sized tumor near the left temple. As of now, we don't know if it's benign or malignant, nor do we know where it came from (the doctor said it didn't originate in the brain, it came from somewhere else, possibly the lungs).
A health scare, I learned, can hit anyone at any time for any reason. My dad exercises daily, eats moderately, has never smoked nor drank alcohol. Some may say he's a total square. In spite of this, he has a lumpy mass growing in his head. I myself used to think walking to the TV to get the remote was exercise, and half a pizza covered the basic food groups, or pyramid, or obelisk, or Temple of Doom; whatever they call it these days. So, bottom line is that a man who respected his body has a serious medical issue, while I, who treated mine like a container from Waste Management, is so far only dealing with some extra weight. There's a disconnect there. Anyway, this obviously has me scared; but, ironically not to the point that I need to wash down the fear with a pint of Chunky Monkey and pilsner (I've done that). In fact, I now value more than ever the need to get healthy myself.
This leads me to my next point: that humanity lives on, and there still is compassion in this world. My mother has had health problems of her own, and is unable to drive. My dad's been grounded from driving until this all has been resolved. My brother is, well, my brother (in all fairness, he's bogged down with classes). So, I've had to step up to help take my dad to appointments, and ultimately his surgery on Thursday. Two details I left out are that I have a full-time job, and that I'm supposed to go away for an entire week next week to a conference related to work. I missed work all day yesterday, and half of today. The executive director pulled me into the office, along with my direct supervisor, and said:
"We put family first in this office. If you need, you may work here in the office next week on a part-time basis so you can be close to your family. If we were in your shoes, we wouldn't want to be a couple hundred miles from our family for a week either."
If anyone remembers the old Bugs Bunny cartoons where a character's jaw drops to the floor in shock and awe (usually either Daffy Duck or Wile E. Coyote), just picture me doing that. This conference is the premier event of the year for the association. For months, it was common knowledge that I would need to be there; but here is the boss' boss, telling me to put family first. I didn't know what to say. Professionalism aside, I wanted to kiss the man, but I opted for a firm handshake. Now, I can tend to the needs of my family without having to worry needlessly. Humanity lives again.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Well, It's Not Going To Be Easy...
First weigh-in since my last post was today. It came in at a whopping 304 pounds. Yikes. I suppose it didn't help that I went to a football game yesterday, where there was the overwhelming temptation of junk food galore. I fought it; I fought hard. But lost. One buffalo chicken sandwich later and I was in the fetal position, crying. Okay, I wasn't in the fetal position.
I need to put some perspective on my progress, though. Last June (2009), I weighed 350 pounds. So, I did make some progress. During the winter months, I joined a gym, and was going religiously. I was down to 285 at one point. I eventually wanted to get down to about 225, which is still above my ideal weight, but by no means unattainable.
Then, I lost my job.
When my lifestyle took a hit, I went right back to my old ways. Lack of funds prevented me from going to the places I usually went to get my exercise. Depression told me the gym could wait. I began eating again out of boredom. Talk about playing with my food; it became entertainment!
In the grand scheme, I suppose 20 pounds regained doesn't seem like much to a big dude. But, to me, it's a failure. A failure to exercise discipline and self-control. So, that being said, I just have to get back on the horse; a very big, strong horse with a high tolerance for pain. I have to show a larger scale of determination if I want to beat this thing.
In the next couple days, I'll start posting what I'm eating, and trying to eat, and what I'm doing to get off my butt to be active.
I need to put some perspective on my progress, though. Last June (2009), I weighed 350 pounds. So, I did make some progress. During the winter months, I joined a gym, and was going religiously. I was down to 285 at one point. I eventually wanted to get down to about 225, which is still above my ideal weight, but by no means unattainable.
Then, I lost my job.
When my lifestyle took a hit, I went right back to my old ways. Lack of funds prevented me from going to the places I usually went to get my exercise. Depression told me the gym could wait. I began eating again out of boredom. Talk about playing with my food; it became entertainment!
In the grand scheme, I suppose 20 pounds regained doesn't seem like much to a big dude. But, to me, it's a failure. A failure to exercise discipline and self-control. So, that being said, I just have to get back on the horse; a very big, strong horse with a high tolerance for pain. I have to show a larger scale of determination if I want to beat this thing.
In the next couple days, I'll start posting what I'm eating, and trying to eat, and what I'm doing to get off my butt to be active.
Friday, September 24, 2010
The Scot-Spot is Going in a New Direction
After many weeks of trying to figure out what to do with this blog, I finally came to a conclusion: I suck at blogging. That being said, I had to come up with something that someone would read. Thanks to a very old friend of mine who came up from his tropical paradise in Florida to the, err, not so tropical Keystone State, my muse finally clobbered me upside the head with a proverbial two-by-four.
All my life, I have struggled with esteem and weight issues. Although I was considered smart in school, I was a chronic underachiever who just wanted to "get by" with the minimum. I had a parent who was abusive and demanding, while he himself, as I found out later, was also an underachiever who constantly got into trouble at work and in other extracurricular activities. I guess after he got smacked around by his bosses, he came home to take it out on my mother and me. Pffft, whatever. The main issue is that wonderful childhood manifested into a mediocre adulthood. Ill-advised, I changed majors in college to one that I don't have a natural aptitude for. I had a couple iffy relationships before I married a nice-enough girl who unfortunately had too many demons of her own; needless to say that marriage failed. Yes, I've had struggle after struggle. And I'm sick of it.
That leads me to the point of this diatribe. What I'm going to blog about is the positive steps I am going to take to better myself, get out of this funk, and be the man I know I can be. One of the biggest topics I will be talking about is my weight loss; how I am a chunky monkey now, but will eventually be that sixpack stud that everyone sees in the Fireman-of-the-Month calendars. I will be periodically posting my fitness progress on this blog. I also want to talk about furthering my career; right now I'm employed but I am looking to find something more meaningful and fulfilling (it's not about the money). Granted, one can't be too careful talking openly about careers on a medium possibly seen by current and prospective employers. But I want to convey to you, dear reader, the sense that one should not fear making a change for the better if you don't like the direction you're going in now. The hardest part is taking the first step.
This is my first step.
All my life, I have struggled with esteem and weight issues. Although I was considered smart in school, I was a chronic underachiever who just wanted to "get by" with the minimum. I had a parent who was abusive and demanding, while he himself, as I found out later, was also an underachiever who constantly got into trouble at work and in other extracurricular activities. I guess after he got smacked around by his bosses, he came home to take it out on my mother and me. Pffft, whatever. The main issue is that wonderful childhood manifested into a mediocre adulthood. Ill-advised, I changed majors in college to one that I don't have a natural aptitude for. I had a couple iffy relationships before I married a nice-enough girl who unfortunately had too many demons of her own; needless to say that marriage failed. Yes, I've had struggle after struggle. And I'm sick of it.
That leads me to the point of this diatribe. What I'm going to blog about is the positive steps I am going to take to better myself, get out of this funk, and be the man I know I can be. One of the biggest topics I will be talking about is my weight loss; how I am a chunky monkey now, but will eventually be that sixpack stud that everyone sees in the Fireman-of-the-Month calendars. I will be periodically posting my fitness progress on this blog. I also want to talk about furthering my career; right now I'm employed but I am looking to find something more meaningful and fulfilling (it's not about the money). Granted, one can't be too careful talking openly about careers on a medium possibly seen by current and prospective employers. But I want to convey to you, dear reader, the sense that one should not fear making a change for the better if you don't like the direction you're going in now. The hardest part is taking the first step.
This is my first step.
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