Confessions of a Blogaholic

Gotta post quick because the baby is waking from her nap (oh, those blissful moments when I can set aside Mommyhood to work on Teacherdom and Wifeliness).

Dad is in the hospital (again). If you aren't too familiar with me/my situation, my dad and I have basically stopped talking. Right after I graduated high school, he and my mom had a pretty rough divorce (and my mom was SO in the right for divorcing him). My dad has ALWAYS been an alcoholic, but with the freedom of the divorce came an onslaught binge of drinking. So, for the last 10 years, I've probably talked to my dad about a handful of times, and he's been a "bottom of the barrel" type of drunk for that entire period. I should clarify....my dad's sense of normal is waking up to a beer first thing in the morning, working a job that allows him to work when he can and drink all the time, and living in situations that keep him drowning in alcohol (and possibly drugs) at all times of day and night. He's a mess. Seriously.

3 years ago (at the same time when my g-pa died), was the last time my dad had been in the ICU. He was hooked up to a ventilator after a "fall" (which I'm still convinced was truly a baseball bat to the head) and in and out of consciousness for a couple weeks. It was at that time that I found out as the oldest daughter, I am responsible for decisions regarding his medical care. At the time, the doctors told him he had 2 years left to live if he continued drinking and smoking. His lungs and liver are basically shot, he has hep C, MRSA, and a myriad of other deadly conditions (high blood pressure). On top of all that, this "fall" left him with some weird brain damage or something, because afterwards, he couldn't even act like a "normal" (respective to his every other day actions) human being. He was mentally retarded even by his own standards.

Needless to say, despite his own repeated attempts at rehab, my dad continued to drink, and I continued to learn that addiction is a disease--some beat it, and some succumb to it.

This time is much worse. He went to the ER last Tuesday with chest pain and severe detoxing, only to find out that his entire left lung and top half of his right lung are filled with pneumonia. Thursday morning, he was moved up to ICU with a severely low blood pressure that required medicine to raise. He was sedated and put on a ventilator at that time. Saturday and Sunday mornings, they took him off his sedative, but he did not wake up (it's taking a long time to process the meds out because his liver is so effed). Yesterday, they gave him sedatives to give him a CAT (sp?) scan, during which they found that his lungs are incredibly effed and at this point, they don't know whether or not he will be able to breathe on his own again (a combo punch from smoking for so many years and the pneumonia). Hence....the ventilator is serving as his life support. Without it, right now, he would fail to breathe.

My mom got the impression from the doc when she went up Saturday that this is an "If...he lives" situation. Apparently, those were the doctor's exact words ("If he gets out of this this time..."); however, the ICU nurses are giving a more "We don't know..." and "When he wakes up..." impression. But what do they really know half the time??

I'm just hoping for a resolution. Nate says he can't understand why I even care, and the truth is...I care because I know what kind of person he USED to be. He was, after all, truly my dad for the first 17 years of my life. Did he come to any violin concerts? No. Did he come to any football games? No. Did he come to any plays? Maybe one. But, he was still my dad, and he cared about me in the way he knew how. As my friend Allison put it, he "loved to him limit," and did what he was capable of doing. So, yes, of course, I care about what happens to him...

But...he is a shell of the person he used to be, and the realist side of me cannot understand why the hospitals continue to save him just to send him out and let him kill himself again. He will never grasp the magnitude of his actions. If he doesn't die this time, it's only a matter of a brief amount of time.

Among the many books I am read (including Book #1 of the Alex Cross series by Patterson, Book #1 in the Maximum Ride series by Patterson, Gregor the Overlander, Book #2 in the Percy Jackson series, AND Freakonomics), one that has my attention, and inadvertently the attention of this post, is Master Your Metabolism by the all-too famous Jillian Michaels.



In it, Jillian talks about all of the chemical toxins in and around us that throw our hormones off-balance and cause (contribute, I would argue) to our incessant obesity epidemic. Being of the "larger than life" club, myself, I am interested in what Jillian has to say--am I reading in place of exercising? Possibly. But I have thrown 25-30 minute nightly workouts on the elliptical and uncounted repetitions with weights and exercise ball routines into my daily schedules.

Like so many other food-oriented books I've read in recent years (The Omnivore's Dilemma, Fast Food Nation, and In Defense of Food--yes, I am well-versed, and should I add, well-experienced in the area of food), Jillian condemns processed foods, food additives, chemi-foods, etc. Basically, all the things we like in life--Bad, Bad, Bad.

I do not tend to eat a whole lot of processed foods, in all reality. We do, though, eat a lot of chicken and ground turkey. We eat lots of vegetables and whole grains as well. I can't remember the last time I had an Oreo or boxed Mac & Cheese. Nor can I remember the last time we ate anything from a can or even shopped those "middle aisles" of the grocery store. I don't eat fast food more than once every couple of weeks, I eat breakfast every morning (oatmeal, toast with apple butter, banana), I pack lunches every day for work (yogurt, natural apple sauce, Lean Pocket), and when we go out to dinner, I get a salad. In my opinion, I eat healthy. Also, in my opinion, I don't eat that much.

Being that I've only just started guaranteeing myself a nightly workout, I can't say, "I don't know why I'm so fat!" Because I haven't been working out long enough to see any benefits. That being said, in the past, I have BUSTED MY ASS to lose weight for extended periods of time and never saw the results I wanted. When I was in Army ROTC at Xa.vier, I worked out every single day beginning at 5am with my battalion, worked out in the evenings with my suitemates, and dieted ALL DAY EVERY DAY, but never got below 170.

Now, I should clarify...I'm not working out now to lose weight. I could care less about that any more. I have a husband and a kid, I don't need to work on my appearance for anything important. I am working out to try and manage my stress and workload. I'm working out to sleep better at night instead of tossing and turning all night long. Most importantly, I'm working out to have some alone time while Nate watches the baby. I work out because it makes me feel good rather than stressed out.

I'm starting to think maybe there is some truth to what Jillian (and so many others!) are saying. Maybe my hormones are all out of whack because they are under attack by all the chemicals in our foods, cleaners, tupperware containers, etc. Maybe there is a problem with my thyroid? Maybe my inability to lose during ROTC was a hormone imbalance? Maybe I'm unintentionally predisposing Rylee to obesity by exposing her to all the chemi-food nonsense. I don't know.

I don't think I can be a "green" mom. I don't think I have the time in my already overloaded schedule to do the necessary research to go "green" in every area of my life. I don't think I have the energy to put in to going to farmer's markets for vegetables, obsessively comparing food labels, paying so much more for free-range, organic, etc. meats (see, I don't even know the difference!). I do, though, think it's important to set a good example for my kid. It would be great to have a list of pre-researched "ok" foods, cleaners, etc. so that I wouldn't have to put forth all that extra effort! If I can give Ry a step-up in the right direction as far as nutrition and healthy living are concerned, I'd love to be able to do that. I'd love for her to avoid being called "Thunder Thighs" in 8th grade gym class :/ And to avoid being called "The Fat Cheerleader". I'd love for her risks of cancer to already be diminished because she chooses to avoid "bad" foods.

Small steps. At least I'm making it a point to work out daily.