Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Just before we went on vacation, I lost about 10# and had some blood lab work done. Lots of great scores except for overactive thyroid. Doctor asked if I'd had any unusual weight loss. I didn't think so. Now I wonder. I'm going in for a scan to see if I might have Hashimoto's. He was surprised I know what it is - my sister-in-law has it. Could that explain why I sometimes feel excessively hot when the AC is set for 75-78?
Anyway, typical age for onset of Hashimoto is about 40 and I am about 70. That means I had 30 'free' years. If it is H then my husband will be amused because I will have to take a thyroid pill also when his alarm goes off. The alarm beats waiting an hour to have breakfast.
When I packed for our 4-week cruise, I threw in a pair of jeans I've had for several years that I never wore. (They were too small by the time my mail order arrived.) When I tested them for packing, they were only a hair tight. I figured I might walk enough to make them fit. By the time I put them on, all the walking had paid off. Once I got home, I grabbed a pair of clean jeans from the closet. After they were zipped, I realized I hadn't worn them in several years. Muscle tone is nice. I love what I see in the mirror.
Sunday, February 02, 2014
When I read about age related problems, I feel a little smug. I should be thanking God that I don't have those issues. I am 69 and have been blessed with great genetics in some areas.
*After my hysterectomy, I did not have hot flashes, my husband did. I cannot tolerate estrogen supplements.
* Breast changes - mine are still almost perky, not droopy pancakes.
* My skin is beautiful.
* My hair is luxurious and thick and long.
* I am still over 5'7". My husband and brother don't seem as tall as they were.
* My health is such that doctors double check my chart because my body is young.
* Strangers are shocked that I qualify for senior discounts.
I see places I could use 'a little tweek'. My abdomen is rounded, not flat. I have bat wings. My neck looks 50.
Friday, December 20, 2013
and I'm retried. In the beginning we didn't see a lot of each other, now we are rarely apart. Would be great if he didn't make so many unsatisfactory decisions for me. Do I want to park far out? He parks as close as possible. What time are we leaving? Doesn't matter, he'll usually say, I'm late. Yesterday he asked why I was ready so early. And so it goes.
Quiet time, down time means he will talk to me, read to me, play updates on his cell phone and generally keep me company so I don't get lonely. The absolute worst was 2 am in London. He called our friend in the states, put his phone on speaker and sat on the bed next to where I was sleeping. When he poked the phone at me and insisted I say something, I growled something about wanting to sleep. Our friend had a good laugh and told my husband good night.
Blogging and journalling are not within his comprehension. He reads over my shoulder and critiques what I have to say or corrects my spelling, grammer, etc. Excuse me, this is my feelings and none of your business. He understands for less than 30 seconds then starts talking because he 'likes me'. I don't feel respected and he says it is not his problem. Even when I tell him what I want or like, he tells me I am wrong. He doesn't comprehend differences. He has never been tested for OCD or broad-spectrum autism. He certainly exhibits symptoms because our grandson's diagnosis led to our son's diagnosis of autism. My mother is so OCD, I can still remember exactly how every cabinet in her house was arran ged while I was growing up and I haven't lived with her for about 50 years.
I should tell my mental health professional what is eating at me but I don't see her often enough to really get down to it. Watching The Biggest Loser, I think I need Dolvett to work me to the point I break and face what is eating at me. I am afraid to become that vulnerable but I know it will help. Doing a research report on Peri-Natal Infant Death, and saying goodbye to the baby I lost 40 years earlier really helped me. My husband cherished the symbol of that loss, singing to it and rocking it for a couple of days. I even found a glass 'casket' for the baby and lined it with soft pink tissue. Any one opening the candy dish will be confused but we know it is the symbol of the baby we lost.
If I can remember one man in a crowd walking home from work with his penis hanging out, I wondered what is buried and how deep it is.
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