Hunky Dorey, much?
Monday, Jul. 19, 2010 1:41 PM
"For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
It's Monday morning and I feel like crap. I'm not sick. I'm not tired. I didn't drink myself into a drunken stupor or anything like that. I'm just depressed.
I'm depressed with my life. I hate it. I hate my job. I hate my marriage and all things that go along with it. I hate how dirty and disgusting my car and house are. I hate my lack of enthusiasm for just about anything. My body hurts so I hate my body.
If this is how life was meant to be lived, do I want to continue living? What is the point? I can't move around physically right now, I'm so swollen and bloated. (No. I'm not pregnant.) No doctor can figure anything out. All they can agree on is that I'm carrying around 80 pounds of pure water. No diaretic seems to do the trick. Drinking myself to death with water isn't working either. A diet high in protein isn't doing much for me, as well.
Eighty pounds of water. Ever since my surgery. Do you know what its like to go under 80 pounds lighter only to wake up 80 pounds heavier overnight? I wish I never had the surgery. They told me if I didn't have it, I would have died. I think I would rather be dead right now than living like this.
I went to the heart doctor last week to have an echocardiogram. The nurse who initiated the exam told me flat out, "you're fat. You need to lose some weight. Have you ever considered going on a diet?" Excuse me? Throughout the entire exam she made comments about my size. "You need to push your butt up against the wall. Your stomach's in my way." and "Well, there's no point in going forward with this exam. I can't find anything. You're just too fat."
Too fat? All my weights in my stomach and legs right now. My fingers are so swollen they ache and hurt. My ankles are twice the size they used to be. I can't get down on my hands and knees because just the slightest touch is tender. I start out with normal sized feet but by the end of the day my feet are so swollen, they've gained about 5" in thickness. You can poke at my legs and I'll either scream in dire pain or feel nothing. It depends on what part of the leg you push on. But what's obvious is the pitted ademia.
I'm here at this office because my doctor's trying to figure out what's causing me to retain so much water weight. And she has the audacity to tell me these things? Discrimination much? I just wanted to smack her in the face. What did she want me to do? Chop off my left breast so she could get a more accurate reading?
Is this how obese people are treated? I've never been more humiliated in my life.
God, I'm just ready to bury myself underneath some covers and never wake up.