(Tell us about one thing (or more) that you promised yourself you’d accomplish by the end of the year. How would you feel once you do? What if you don’t?)
Dickens fan that I am, this prompt caught my attention right away! I loved teaching Great Expectations to my high school lit classes, introducing them to all the wonderful characters that reflect our own foibles and successes.
So, two things that I promised myself to accomplish: Get my weight down in order to stay off the Diabetes Type 2 spectrum; Get busy on that book I’ve been promising to write.
I’m not doing so well on either one. Excuses abound. I’ve been sick most of the winter. I’m just now feeling more like tackling things, since I got the meds I needed for the asthma that’s been keeping me slowed down since January. Why did I wait so long to see my doctor? Long story, short version: Last September, when Terry retired, we both applied for Medicare Part B. He got his, I did not. It took until last month to get that ball of twine untangled. Working with the 800-number Social Security folks is a real test of one’s patience. I must have gotten a dozen different answers from a dozen different people. Finally went back to the SS office where we applied and was blessed to get a woman who’d been working there for 40 years. She got me my Medicare in less than two weeks. I will be forever grateful to Mrs. Clark!
Anyway, went to see my doc. Of course she treated the asthma, but she also noticed the creeping weight gain. Lab work shows my A1C to be around 8.2, highest it’s ever been. I’d never hit 7 before. She wants me to start taking Metphorin, but assured me that if I get back on track with exercise and trimming the weight, I can probably go off the meds. I’ve always managed to control it before now, and I can do it again. Get that A1C under 6, that’s my new goal. Starting now.
The book? Well, I AM still working! Excuse #1, lack of time. Excuse #2, lack of energy. Excuse #3, hard to get big blocks of uninterrupted time now that my dearly beloved is home most of the time. Excuse #4, and the real truth? I’m scared to death! What if I go to all that work, and no one wants it? What if I get rejected?
Can you believe that at nearly 67 years of age, I still worry about rejection! Good grief.
So there you have it. Health and writing. How will I feel if I accomplish my goals? Oh my, euphoric! And if I don’t? Well–pretty much the way I feel right now.
Fat, diabetic, and still making excuses.
Because I don’t want to end on such a negative note, I need to say here that I understand what I need to do. I know how to do it. The problem is tapping in to that fire in the belly that motivates me to get it done.