Hell Ride

I mean, seriously...

Let me preface this post by saying I apologize to anyone with a March birthday.

The truth is, I kind of hate March. It's not quite winter, not quite spring, and everything feels like it's in a perpetual state of limbo. Will it snow or won't it? Will we ever see the sun again or are we living inside the Ray Bradbury story, All Summer in a Day? I'm longing to wear my cropped pants but when I leave my house it's 28 degrees outside, even if the forecast says it'll be 63 later in the day. It's a confusing month all around and I just want to press the fast forward button to May and green grass and flowers and sunshine.

If only there was a fast forward button for those times in life when we really need time to pick up the pace. I, for one, would be slamming my palm down on that sucker right about now. Hard.

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you know about my nasty bouts with horrendous, chest-clenching indigestion. Well, after being on Pantoprozole for a little over a month with no real improvement, my doctor sent me to see an endoenterologist. Unfortunately, he didn't have much to offer me in the way of an explanation of my condition, especially since I don't have typical heartburn or acid reflux symptoms. However, he was concerned enough about the issues I do have to set me up with an ultrasound and endoscopy. Hence my burning desire for the fast forward button. I just want to get this shit done and over with - pronto. I want some answers.

Just the other day I was driving home on 78, surrounded by an army of semis when I had one of my attacks. My usual solution is to make my self burp 1,000 times through the magical and delicious (not) combination of chalky-ass Tums and warm Coke, followed by jamming my hand down my throat to force myself to throw up. Anything, and I mean anything to alleviate the pressure. Driving during an attack presented a whole new problem, considering I was nowhere near a toilet in which to purge the demons within, so I had to do some quick thinking. I reached across the seat to dig out an empty plastic container from my lunch bag to stand in for said missing toilet. Class act all the way.

I'll spare you the putrid details, but suffice it to say, I'm not very good at spitting out of an open car window while traveling at 65 mph. And it's no picnic spitting into a plastic container that reeks to the high heavens of garlic shrimp when you already feel over-the-top nauseous. The good news is, I didn't hurl all over myself, even though my watery mouth suggested that very act was imminent. The bad news is, the chest pain and nausea lasted as I drove for miles and miles and miles. And miles.

In hindsight, I probably should have pulled over (duh). But all I could think about was getting home, so I drove like a bat out of hell, spitting and burping like a champ until a monster belch escaped with such force that the pain finally subsided. Who doesn't love a happy ending to a horror story?

It's hard to feel normal when you are afraid to eat. In the entire history of my life, food has served as a great comfort and source of extreme enjoyment. Now, it's enemy number one. I have no idea what's going to trigger an attack and I live in constant fear of each meal I eat. Eating is no longer enjoyable. As a matter of fact, it has become quite a nightmare.

If there is a bright side to all of this, I suppose it would have to be that I am continuing to lose weight, albeit at a snail's pace. I only lost a half pound this week, but I had already suspected my indulgent week after Sammy died would come back to haunt me at some point and this past week, it did. Still, a half pound down is a half pound down - not up - so I'm winning the battle, bit by itty bit.

One of my dear co-workers put it into perspective for me. She said I should think of where I'll be a few months down the road when all of these "small" increments of pounds lost are still adding up. She told me to think about where I'll be at the end of the school year, and over the summer, and even at the beginning of next year. Even small losses lead to big rewards eventually. Maybe I don't see it quite yet. My total loss so far is 15 lbs, and that's not enough for me to see any real physical changes. Again,  the fast forward button would be a real God's send for this situation. I'd love to be able to speed down this whole weight loss road to the final destination: Thinville. But somehow, I don't think I'd appreciate the new me as much if I didn't have the journey to look back on.

In the meantime, I'm going to try to stop wishing time away and focus on being in the present. My ultrasound is on Monday so perhaps I will get a few questions answered sooner rather than later. My endoscopy is on April 17. Whatever the results, I want to start doing whatever is necessary to make myself feel better. I pray that bananas, raspberries, blackberries and eggs won't be my only "safe foods"long term.

Only time will tell.