Its official, blog world. I am falling apart. And it's only natural. I mean, I DID just turn 29. I'm on the downward slope of my bell curve life.
I am really going to set my scale on fire. I got on it yesterday for the first time in a month or so and it read me a number so low, I hadn't seen it on a scale I was standing on since middle school. I immediately began celebrating and feeling awesome about myself (although in the back of my head questioning the validity of the number because I am still not in my skinny jeans and this number would have really let me fit in my skinny jeans).
I had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon, where I was just praying for the validation that my (formerly) evil scale had just given me. Oh but the doctor's scale hates me too. And I am far heavier than I thought. I have gained back all but 10 measly little pounds. And now I am back to being disappointed with myself again. Why, oh why, do we let numbers affect our feelings? (note to self: work on this).
I may have mentioned in my last post about my arthritis. I got diagnosed with it (in my knees) when I was 20. At the time, it was no big deal. I was in college, rowing, running and competing every weekend. Now, at 29, it feels like a death sentence.
When I was first diagnosed, I was given a prescription to manage the pain and inflammation. It made me see black spots. So I stopped taking it and began a years-long dependency to ibuprofen, glucosamine, and ice.
For many many years this worked pretty well. But recently, my knees are having none of it. They are pissed! I came back from a run the other day and they were literally throbbing with pain. Obviously, I am annoyed because this is interfering with my workouts, running and weight loss. But even more than that, I am really concerned. I have seen all of those commercials about people with arthritis, hobbling about. Crying about all the things they can't do. But the people are all at LEAST 60 years old so I never associated myself with having arthritis. But the other day, it became very clear to me that I am now that old person trapped in my 29 year old body. The only difference is, I suffer through the pain because I'm "tough."
I do everything the doctor's recommend to manage the pain and symptoms. And I am frustrated and annoyed with my body. I feel like it's letting me down. I take such good care of it (although this wasn't always the case), and this is the thanks I get?
I want to be able to run around with my kids, not follow them in my wheelchair!
I'm going to start looking into alternative ways to deal with this before my doctor makes me see a specialist and the specialist tells me my options are "suffering" or "surgery." I'll try anything at this point. Bring on the witch doctors!