Goals and the game of Life

I have always been a goal oriented person. Give me a target and I will do my best to hit it. Losing weight has been a very hard goal for me to not only hit but to maintain the numbers. The numbers as they say always speak for themselves.

Since I work in sales, I have sales targets to hit. Very fun to compete against yourself in that realm. For personal goals, I have been working in a number of different areas.

1) Spiritual
2) Weight Control
3) Communication
4) Sanity

All of these could be helped I'm told (by many non-experts and experts alike) from exercise. I used to like to lift weights. Going to the gym is very expensive at this point in my life so I think so I don't think that would work out (no pun intended).

A physical therapist has told me to use an exercise ball while I sit down at my desk at work. This sounds like a capital idea. Although I have to wait some time for my surgery to heal before I start it would help my abs and back a great deal in the strength area.

When I was in the service, I ran a lot. Not all the time, but a lot. I have always liked to run. I think that once I'm down a few more pounds the weather will be better and I will start running two or three times a week to start out. It should be great fun. I could take Maddy out in her little stroller and go to a nearby school track so I can keep my time.

The best way to start running is to walk first. I know it sounds simple, but it's true. I try to walk everyday during work, if anything for a break in the day, but to also get my heart rate up for 15-20 minutes.

So for now, my exercise goal is simple. Walk three to four times a week for at least 15 minutes and find a decent exercise ball to use at work for sitting. The ball may have to wait a bit, but that's OK.

Clouds, Rain, Snow, and Ice.. a long drive home

Today was most like any other day. I went work and was busy for a good part of the day. But when I finally went outside around 1pm, I noticed how cloudy it was. I was thinking of a smoothie with protein rather than my normal protein drinks for lunch so I stopped at Jamba Juice.

I noticed how cold it was getting then I felt a few rain drops hit my face as I walked outside. As I drove back to work, I roads felt a little slippery, but I thought it was from the recent drizzle that made the roads slick.

A couple of hours later, the snow started. It not only snowed a little, but a lot! We had over an inch of fresh wet snow in about an hour. So, at 4pm, I decided I should get home. No worries it was only 13.5 miles to home. Shouldn't take me too long. How little did I know and understand how the little bit of snow accumulation affected traffic.

As I listened to the radio the traffic newscaster came on and was listening about all the roads that were closed. As I TRIED to get onto Interstate 5, I realized I was in store for a long trip home.

It took me an hour to go from work to the freeway, then another 30 minutes to realize that I needed to get off the freeway and start my journey on the back roads. So, I slowly made it to the next exit. Luckily, it was only three quarters of a mile down the road, so it wasn't too bad.

I don't know the Lake Oswego area very well, so I pulled out my trusty GPS and mapped a course for home. Sure enough I was close to a back road. Now, to gain access. People are crazy drivers in the bad weather. They think its dry pavement. How wrong they are. I saw people whiz by me and end up in ditches, on the side of roads, ramming into poles. You name, it probably happened.

On of the issues with ice on the roads is climbing hills. Luckily my car is front wheel drive and fared well in the slippery weather. Other people, even with front wheel or four wheel drive vehicles were not so lucky. They blocked traffic with their escapades and whimsical driving habits. I prayed while watching the road that I would not get into an accident, or get stuck. I took my time. Stayed patient. Listened to the radio and kept in contact with Julia via texting pretty much the entire way home.

It took me three hours to arrive safely in the driveway. Before I got out of the car I thanked the Lord for allowing me to arrive safe and sound.

Merry Christmas

Over the past few years I have enjoyed Christmas more and more. I used to think it was about something very different. Basically, how much could I over spend and how many expensive toys can I buy for people. I felt like I was being generous for some reason. Now that I look back, I wasn't. I was being prideful and not thrifty at all.

My wife and I don't have a lot. We are so grateful for what we do have and thanks Heavenly Father daily for the generosity of my in-laws (who let us live in their house) and the fact that we have food on the table and clothes on our backs.

Some people ask why we don't have a lot. They don't understand our entire situation and to be honest, some days, I don't either. We have massive amount of medical bills. Although this should have not put us in the poor house, it has to some extent. The other issue was a mistake I made a few years ago, which I won't go into deeply, only that it takes 45% of my take home pay before I can feed my wife and kids.

So, this Christmas, out of the generosity of others my kids received gifts from local church groups and the thriftiness of my wife's spending power. She can be very, very frugal and make a dollar stretch a mile if needed.

At first I was very upset about someone else giving our kids things that I should have been providing. I would hold a grudge against the people that were taking the money out of our pockets and putting into there own. I would rather the money come from my own pocket so I could properly provide for my family. However the reality is simple. The numbers don't add up. Like so many other American's this time of year, we relied on the generosity of others. If I allowed my pride to get in the away of this time of year, we wouldn't have a Christmas tree, very, very few gifts under it to open. Very little dinner to eat for the evening, and a depressing Christmas to say the least.

So, now I look at the holiday differently. It's not about how many lights I can put up around the house, or how many gifts can under the tree, but rather how we can help our fellow human beings survive with a little dignity.

As I mentioned, we don't have a lot, but we find ways to help other families that have less than we do. My wife and I adopted two families this year. I was unable to attend the first family receiving the gifts that my wife and I wrapped a few days prior. Most of the gifts were not new, as a matter of fact most of them were hand-me-downs from our kids. Some of the toys were not in the best of shape, but instead of having nothing, these children had games to play and clothes to keep them warm. And in the spirit of Christmas we gave what we had. In return, we received blessings that were not asked for, but given to us by a higher power. Yes, I'm talking about the Lord.

This experience of losing everything has made me less prideful, and has made it easier to ask for help. I have to ask for help again this weekend, and I will with a lump in my throat and feeling ashamed that I have to ask. Again, the reality is that we have to in order to survive.

So, I'm getting less prideful in my old age and as I said, this experience has taught me this. I like to think that Heavenly Father is teaching me to become a better person. I want to be a better person and I don't want to wait until it's too late.

Maybe someone reading this will be helped my experience, I can only hope and pray that they are helped.

Singing Missionaries

Surgery

OK. So I'm posting this a little late.

My weight has always been a tough subject for me. I have always felt embarrassed on how much I weigh. I know how to "yo-yo" very well. I can diet, exercise and lose the weight, but keeping it off has always been the problem.

Six days ago, I had the lap-band procedure done. It was a hard decision, but it took 8 months for the hospital to put me through the wringer in order to make sure I would succeed in losing the amount of weight that I needed.

So, when I started on this venture about a year ago, I was 435lbs. I know. Its tough to admit that you weigh over 400 pounds. Even as I write this out, it's hard to believe that I ever weighed that much.

So, a life style change is in order, correct? That's what everyone tells you at least. For me making the drastic changes never seemed to stick very well. I once lost 100lbs through the use of a personal trainer, a decent diet and lots, and lots of exercise. I lost it. but when I couldn't afford the personal trainer any longer and moved and lost my gym membership. I gained all the weight back, and then some. Yep, the vicious circle has started. Or, should I say was realized.

I think all through my life, this vicious circle of exercise, dieting and losing weight only to gain it back has always been there. I only lost weight when there was a purpose to lose the weight. Staying healthy has never been easy. Especially when you have a touch of OCD, and a mixture of a sweet tooth. It made it a little tougher.

So, when I found out that my medical insurance would pay for the entire surgery, I knew I had to think about 1) Should I have the surgery? and 2) Can I make the commitment to stay healthy?

I prayed and thought a lot about it. As my wife became more pregnant with our daughter, I realized that at 44 years old, I was not getting any younger. My doctor also found out that I was diabetic. So, I had all the symptoms of a obese man. I use a CPAP, have high blood pressure, diabetes (Type II) bad knees, and worst of all, my cholesterol was through the roof. I have always had a lot of pride about my cholesterol. Now, I couldn't even say that I have "good" cholesterol.

I also made a religious change in my life. I converted to become LDS (Latter Day Saint) well over a year ago. Part of becoming LDS is that you keep the Word of Wisdom. This is the part that a lot of people find confusing. You know, the no coffee, tea, smoking, and drinking of alcohol that kind of thing. The other part of the Word of Wisdom is to stay healthy. This was a revelation from about 180 years ago. It's something that we see everyday now. Go figure. Maybe the Lord does know best.

So, with my symptoms in hand, I went off to the weight clinic and started the process. Again, not an easy thing. You have to go to seminars with people that are just as, or more so over weight than you are. You have to go to dietitian sessions, physical therapy, counselors, and it goes on.

It took 8 months for the weight clinic to "approve" me for surgery.

I knew that since all these people took all this time to "approve" me, that I must be ready to make the change. I really didn't tell anyone about the surgery and didn't tell my oldest daughter until I was about a week away from my surgery date. Why you ask? Well let's just say I didn't want a lot of outside influences on the subject. And since I really didn't like to talk about my weight problem anyway, it seemed OK.

So, on December 18th, 2009 I had the lap-band surgery. The surgery itself only took about an hour, but the recovery from the anesthesia took most of the day. The doctor also repaired a hiatal hernia that I didn't know I had. I felt like I got two surgeries for the price of one. Yippee!

If you want to read more about the clinic I used here in Portland, Oregon you can visit these folks at this website.

By the way, on December 18th, my pre-surgery weight was down to 380lbs. Yes, some of my pants are falling down more easily than others.

Rainy Morning

The rain comes down
and sounds so good
the plants getting watered
the lawn growing greener

The chill in the air makes it feel like Fall is upon us
Kids going back to school
The days getting shorter
The nights getting longer

Planning for the holidays as they grow closer
wondering how we will afford gifts for the kids
Maybe one big gift and a few small ones
I'm sure we will make it though
Heavenly Father will watch over us

Alternate Universe

Did you ever wonder what an alternate universe would look like? I have. One in particular. For people who do not know me so well, I'm on the heavy side. I have been since the age of 12 or 13. I like to eat. If I keep up with rigorous exercise I can keep the weight off, but getting hurt a lot means that the rigorous exercise doesn't stay up for very long.

In my alternate universe, heavy people are the norm. People that with low BMI's and that are skinny are the ones on the front cover of People magazine with headlines like "Look how skinny he/she is!" Not that, that doesn't happen, but people how are not boleamic, or sick from cancer, or whatever else you can think of. The people that are normally small and petite. The ones people doen't make fun of, or think they are very healthy because they are not overweight. These people are the abnormal if you want to think of it that way. These people (in my universe) wear clothes that are too big for them, they add padding to their clothes to make themselves appear bigger. They dont' wear dark colors to make themselves look smaller, they wear bright bold colors so they look heavier. I often wonder what it would be like for those people who sit on the bus and and think to themselves, "Oh sheash, I gotta sit by the fat guy" would do if the roles were reversed. How would they feel if people made faces at them, or if they avoided eye contact.

So many what if's in our lives isn't there? What if people in general were actualy nice to each other and accepted each other for who/what they are. How would our world be different?

I know that I have a hard time with changing my attitudes with people. I try daily to improve it, but it is difficult when you have people laughing at you, even though you are sitting across from them, or having people whisper back and forth about how stinky the fat guy/gal is today.

Pacifier in my Pocket

Did I ever think in a million years that I would have newborn at age 45? Did I ever think that I would have three step children under the age of 9 at the of 45?
I love kids. I always have. They are so innocent and interested in everything around them. I enjoy watching them play and learn at the same time.

Maddy, our 5 month old daughter has a difficult 5 months of her life. Although it could be worse, she has an eating disorder and very bad reflux. A few weeks ago she had a "G" tube placed in her stomach. We had so many people tell us not to do it, because it was unnecessary and that the surgery would be worse than the cure itself. Well, from what I can see, Maddy is thriving, rather than failing to thrive. She is gaining weight and most of the time is a very happy little 5 month old. She still eats from a bottle, but nit very much. We are working on her oral skills of eating, one step at a time.

Maddy likes her pacifier. It gives her good oral stimulation and makes her feel good. The one issue with babies is that they don't really hold onto things very well. So its very common that Maddy will lose her pacifier (or as we call it her "paci"). I tend to keep an extra in my pocket for what I call Paci emergencies. We must have a number of paci's around the house. Its hard to keep count exactly how many we have since we have some that are new born types, some that are infant types, and some other types that I just not too sure of.

There have been many occassions where I went to work with a paci in my shirt pocket. People will ask me why I have a pacifier in my pocket. Being a little on the quick witted side, I tell then its for our users that want everything and feel we don't treat them fairly. (I'm an IT Manager).

Todat at church I realized that I had four paci's on my person. One in my shirt pocket, and three in my jacket pockets. Two on left side, and one on the right. I didn't think too much of this at first, until after we got home. I felt as if I was a pacifier carrerier of some sort. Going around handing out pacifiers to people in need.

By the time we got home and I started to think about the number of pacifiers on my person, I started to look for one, especially since we were in a paci emergency mode. I couldn't fine one. I checked my shirt pocket, both jacket pockets. The kitchen table, the bedroom, the kitchen counter, everywhere. I just couldn't find one to save my life. When I realized, there was a pacifier in the car seat. Saved at last!

Worry

I can't take credit for writing this tid-bit. My mother sent it to me.. I think she knows I worry too much..

WORRY

Is there a magic cutoff period when
offspring become accountable for their own
actions? Is there a wonderful moment when
parents can become detached spectators in
the lives of their children and shrug, 'It's
their life,' and feel nothing?

When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital
corridor waiting for doctors to put a few
stitches in my daughter's head. I asked, 'When do
you stop worrying?' The nurse said,
'When they get out of the accident stage.' My
Dad just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little
chair in a classroom and heard how one of my
children talked incessantly, disrupted the class,
and was headed for a career making
license plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher
said, 'Don't worry, they all go through
This stage and then you can sit back, relax and
enjoy them.' My dad just smiled
faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime
waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come
home, the front door to open. A friend said,
'They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry,
in a few years, you can stop worrying. They'll be
adults.' My dad just smiled faintly
and said nothing.

By the time I was 50, I was sick & tired of being
vulnerable. I was still worrying over my
children, but there was a new wrinkle. There
was nothing I could do about it. My
Dad just smiled faintly and said nothing. I
continued to anguish over their failures, be
tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in
their disappointments.

My friends said that when my kids got married I
could stop worrying and lead my own
life. I wanted to believe that, but I was
haunted by my Dad's warm smile and his
occasional, 'You look pale. Are you alright?
Call me the minute you get home. Are
you depressed about something?'

Can it be that parents are sentenced to a
lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another
handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of
human frailties and the fears of the
unknown? Is concern a curse or is it a virtue
that elevates us to the highest form of life?
One of my children became quite irritable
recently, saying to me, 'Where were you? I've been
calling for 3 days, and no one answered I was worried.'
I smiled a warm smile.
The torch has been passed.