To say my weight loss project stalled out would be an understatement.
See, there was the flu in December. Then again, six weeks later. And still again, six weeks after that.
By the time the third round hit, I was feeling horrible. Took me a little while to find a doctor. Apparently, primary care physicians in my town are busy enough and not interested in taking new patients. And I wanted a DO instead of an MD. Honestly, I needed someone to listen to me and all my weirdness with an open-mind. By the time I got in to see someone in April, I was genuinely nervous about the diagnosis.
Periodically, I would manage to get myself up at 4:40 am and make it to the gym. Running, however, hurt. My chest, my lungs, hurt. It wasn't a tightness, necessarily. It was pain. I could go maybe a quarter of a mile before it got too bad to keep going. One morning, I actually got light-headed.
But then I would get sick again and any thought of exercise was pushed out of my mind.
Wash, lather, repeat.
My joints ached all the time. I was exhausted. Headaches. Got winded carrying Rhys from the car inside AK's preschool. I was either losing my mind or was actually sick.
Thankfully, the new doctor I went to see was wonderful. She spent almost an entire hour with me. Lots of questions and some tests. I did some sort of breathing test. She said I was near geriatric in my lung capacity. "Your breathing is shot."
Awesome.
She thinks I got the flu once and then kept catching every virus I came in contact with but because of my lung inflammation each virus mimicked the flu. And each time, my lungs got more and more inflamed.
Until I was standing in her office wheezing and fearing a life of chronic illness.
So she prescribed an inhaler and a cocktail of vitamins and supplements to help boost my immunity.
True confession: I was horrible at taking it all.
Oh, I did fine for a couple of weeks, until I started to feel better, and then I just stopped. I'd take my inhaler if I had an allergy attack or was feeling a little under the weather but never consistently. Thankfully, I took it all long enough for the joint pain, exhaustion and headaches to improve.
Just not enough for the lung pain to go away.
About three weeks ago, I reached a point where I was just tired of my clothes not fitting. I have a flippin' fabulous pair of white jeans and only the months between Easter and Labor Day to wear them.
And they don't fit.
I hate it.
Summer was coming up so I knew at least Chris would be home to help with the kids in the morning some. I decided to start going to the gym, getting up around 6. Which is far better than 4:40 am.
So I started going.
And it still hurt. But I told myself I was giving it three or four weeks before I went back to the doctor. What I know about the body and exercising is just enough to be dangerous but I do know lung capacity can grow and shrink. I figured I could run through the pain and hopefully, it would decrease as my capacity increased.
Well. It didn't. I didn't.
And then I got sick again.
This time I didn't waste any time going to the doctor. She saw me that afternoon. Thankfully, my breathing is better. Slightly above geriatric, she said. But she explained I had two weeks to "clean up my act" or she was going to send me for more tests. She also gave me an antibiotic this time.
Not sure if the antibiotic or the fact that I've been taking my inhaler like clockwork deserve the credit but I am a zillion times better.
Monday I ran again. This time, I went two miles straight. I haven't done that since I was diagnosed with Celiac's in November 2010.
Seriously.
Today, I ran again. Two miles straight and another two miles of intervals. The only pain was in my ankles but that's fairly normal. They always hurt. I've learned over the years if I just keep going, they will eventually succumb to my will and go numb.
Don't really care what the number on the scale says as long as things start fitting. Exchanging muscle for flabby is fine with me.
As long as those white jeans fit...and soon!
I'm gonna keep repeating 2 Timothy 1:7, "For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline."
Heaven knows I need that spirit of self-discipline! God's been faithful, as He always is. I wouldn't still be taking that darn inhaler without His spirit of power. I'm not all that strong. And I know only through Him can I love my family enough to give them a healthy, active version of myself. Me? I'd keep sitting on the cough eating fruit snacks and making rosettes.
So Praise the Lord for running! For inhalers! For antibiotics! For doctors who listen! For The Holy Spirit and His faithfulness!
Glad you are feeling better. Take care of yourself.
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