One never knows what a doctor's visit will bring. You go there to find out. I try not to assume, as I'm a bit of a mild hypocondriac. I used to suspect, and then for weeks, I would be absolutely convinced that I would have this condition or that condition, and I'd run scenarios of the rest of my life, what I would have to give up and how I would have to exist. It was extremely stressful, which would have its own repercusions.
However, I've had this sort of half-belief, that if I run through a scenario of the worst that could happen, it wouldn't happen. That part of me is kicking myself now.
I went in for a doctor's appointment today, just to talk about my meds and things about myself that I couldn't control, like what I call "cranky hungry." However, when they took my heartrate, it was through the roof. 120
Apparently, my heartrate had been climbing over the past year or so, but nobody ever said anything about it to me. They're just numbers to me. Health was over ten years ago. I can't remember all this information. So when she told me that my heartrate was extremely high...we're talking 50 pts above what's normal...
As I gained and gained weight, I didn't see it as a problem. Way back about two years ago, the doctor had said my blood sugar was fantastic, and my heartrate was amazingly good for somebody of my size. So every time I was weighed and every time they took my heartrate, I didn't suspect that there was anything wrong. Sure, I was gaining weight and I wasn't very active, but my stats were otherwise impecible. Now I have a sky-high heartrate, 246lbs of obliterated confidence, and hundreds of dollars spent on my new size.
I have been perfectly fine with my size. It took me a while to get there, I have always been a bit husky, but finally I was at peace and confident with my self. What a shock to the ego to learn that the body you've accepted is dangerous. How come nobody told me before now? The further along you get, the harder it is to get back.
So I'll start working on my stationary bike, through the horridly hot months of summer. I'll start out working through every ad break. Then I'll eventually work to half-hour shows. Maybe I'll even get to hour-long programs. And allllll that money I spent on nice clothing will be...well, not so much wasted as I can always take the shirts in, but in a way, I feel like it was something of a lie. Accept a dangerous body. Now my self-image is all out of whack.
At least nobody will ever take away my tiaras.