An Alternate Title: The 18 Pound Challenge
The rain has been unceasing the past few days, which was actually a blessing considering I hadn't watered the garden for the couple of days leading up to the big storms over the weekend. Storms indeed. Stormy moods, stormy weather, stormy clouds in my head, but I managed to shake some of it off this evening after work. The elation of being of the medication has been followed by a period of a bit of panic. There's not a single part of my health that's unaffected by the disease, from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair (mainly grey; nicely covered), and it's tedious sometimes worrying about it all. The latest? My cholesterol remains sky high, despite having already lost some weight and not really eating anything that causes said heights. The result? The doctor has ordered me to lose a total of 18 pounds. It seems impossible. I've been fighting with my body for months, years even, and the pounds just stay stuck like tree sap to a window.
However, now that I'm off the drugs, I'm convinced that at least it's a goal I can achieve. Now that the methotrexate is no longer wreaking havoc on my system, hopefully my body will just rebalance itself. He's given me three months to lose the first five and if I can make that goal he won't put me on the medicine. That's a good motivator. I really need a break from medicine. Four years and then some is a long, long, long time.
Soooo, after a week I've already lost about three pounds. That's just from cutting out sugar and biking to work. And hummmmm, stopping the meds maybe? My Super-Fancy Disease Doctor will never admit that the meds are the sap in the tree-sap-to-window ratio, but it's something I honestly believe. We're also making a conscious effort to eat a little better and not snack as much. At least if I can make it to the 18 pounds, I can forgive the disease even for a little while and simply concentrate on living my life.
Annnywaaay, shaking off the glums was impossible yesterday so we bunkered down and watched a world of Law and Order repeats before falling asleep. I've started to read How to Be Single and it's simply okay. But more on that later once I'm actually done. But today, shaking off the glums was accomplished by hitting the garden out back. The weeds! The weeds! The weeds! But also, the growth, the growth, the growth. I've been re-reading chapters of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle tonight just so we can deal with the overload of zucchini (in pasta, grilled this weekend, in muffins, in cookies). And above? The massive zucchini I harvested today compared to the ones that you'd usually find in the grocery store. One of these things is not like the other, indeed.
What's growing? The beans (all three varieties), the squash, the cucumbers (I had two for dinner; they are delicious), the watermelon, the tomatoes, two teeny cherry tomato plants, the winter squash, the calendula (one lone plant, but still!), the rapini, and I think some of the basil (at long last). We're overgrown in the lettuce department but I'm eating it every morning for breakfast (cashew butter and lettuce on a bagel) so at least I'm making my way through it. And the tomatoes haven't even started to ripen and I'm already thinking about how I'm going to have to convince my RRHB that we'll need to can a bunch of sauce this fall (a whole bunch of photos on Flickr).
I had promised myself that I would grow out of hating gardening. And when I peeled back the heavy, prickly skin of my cucumbers and chopped them up so I could eat their cold, lemony goodness, I knew it was all worth it. The dirty nails. Pulling the weeds. Planting and replanting. Because it's so true, it just tastes so much better when it's grown in your own backyard.