One Step at a Time

You might want to sit for this one.  Here’s what I’ve found out in the past 72 hours about my health. 

 –I do NOT have skin cancer. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)  This is tremendously relieving to me.  When an experienced dermatologist removes a mole off of your lower back and sucks in his breath sharply, as if he’s in awe of the condition of your skin, you tend to worry.  Let’s get this straight, just in case you’re picturing some grotesque-ness on my lower back (which is quite a nice lower back, actually.)  I have nice skin.  Foolishly from 1981 – 1987, I worked at an outdoor pool as a lifeguard and swim instructor.  Sometimes I wore a hat.  Sometimes I wore zinc on my nose.  And lots of times, I didn’t.  Those were strange years.  I’m a fair girl, and it wasn’t the smartest thing to worship my tan for those years.  The reflection off of the water (and I spent 6 hours a day in the water … I wasn’t the barking-orders-from-the-deck-kind of teacher … but I bet she’s not getting moles removed twenty years later …. hmmmm….) caused me to burn my nose badly, very badly, every summer.  When I have no make-up on, I can still faintly see the scarring from that.  I have a very pinkish complexion, so it’s not so freakishly noticeable, but I see it.  Every year, some mole or blemish concerns me or my GP, and I end up getting it removed.  My whole body has been photographed by a dermatologist, so we can monitor changes, because I’m just a high-risk gal in this department.  So, thank God, that I’m OK.  For the rest of my life, it’s sunscreen and regular dermatologist trips.  But I’m OK with that, believe me.  Cancer scares me.  More on that another time.

I’ll think I’ll let the dermatologist know next time that he should NEVER suck in his breath like that when removing something off of someone’s skin.  He should practise perfectly controlled, even breathing, for the well-being of the patient.  Yeesh.

 Besides the whole rig-a-ma-role with the skin, I’ve been feeling progressively crappy (pardon the medical terminology) for weeks.  Insomnia like crazy, sugar cravings so out of control that I even chewed my son’s grape Hubba-Bubba one day (and I HATE simulated grape flavourings).  I’ve been struggling, much more than usual, to drop a few pounds, and the ankle deal limiting my running hasn’t helped.  So, I went and saw a holistic practioner, and MD (who also practices many “ology”s, but primarily iridology).  He believes there’s something funky with my pancreas.  My bloodwork came back all wonky.  He’s sending me for an ultrasound this week to check it out.  Meanwhile, he’s killing me slowly with a “_____________-free” diet.  Oh, insert whatever you want in the blank, because I can’t seem to have it.  Chocolate.  Coffee.  Diet Coke.  Sugar.  Pleasure.  That’s it.  It’s a pleasure-free diet. 

 This is day six of the pleasure-free diet.  The first few days were horrid:  headaches, tears, irritability, forgetfulness, stomach aches … all yucky.  Last night, I felt like I surrendered.  I got the kids to bed just before eight (very easy now that the boys are swimming in swim club …. they’re tired!) and hopped into my bed right after them.  I couldn’t even read, I felt so exhausted.  I slept right through to 7:15 this morning, and feel like the fog has now lifted somewhat.  I feel the closest thing to Bev that I’ve felt in awhile.  I’m now feeling hopeful that perhaps this journey with the pancreas will lead me to a much better place in my health, and be worth all of this.

A side note to end this wordy post:  Cutest thing ever:  Watching the boys swim a mixed-age relay at swim club the other night.  A fifteen-year old girl cheering on Derek the whole length, even though he floated on his back a bit in order to adjust his goggles … adorable!