July 24, 2011
"We all have a legacy--There's something bigger to my recovery than just me." --Victor Frankel
It is 1:30 when the plane lands in Seattle, SEATAC airport. To my left is a Chinese man who says very little, and to my right, an older hispanic woman who sleeps the whole flight. She also closes her window, so I cannot see the landscape change. as I saw from, Dallas to Phoenix--a sight which was breathtaking and sobering.
This was the bad flight, because it was becoming rougher the closer I got to Washington. For a moment, I could see that there was something wrong with me. This was real and I had wanted to lose myself in the idea that I was an ordinary tourist or traveler like the others around me. In Pheonix, I roamed the airport, waiting for the next flight. I perused the flights, stared at a 200 dollar silk tie, walked through the nearby Borders book store which was closing soon. I ate a steak sandwhich and stared out across the barren landscape of Pheonix. Dust clouds roll across the landscape. Giant brown rocks littered the landscape in patches, like giant pimples, but the city and the landscape look up to meet me, the landscape echoes me. Desolation, and dry despair but I am here, and already I feel like Sherman Alexie and the story, this is what its like to say Phoenix, Arizona. In his story, Victor Joseph is going to find his father. In my story, I am going to find myself and heal myself.
The airport is busy. My phone is at half-battery. I've pretended this wasn't happening the whole trip, but it's getting more real, the closer I get to Washington. A long dry wind surrounds me and I am still in the airport.
The idea for this blog was to write about my journey to recovery and the wonderful help I received at the Center. What I may end up doing is forming a time-line later. For now, the story will start with what I can remember. The image for my blog banner is called "Worn out heart" and it comes from this webpage: http://www.featurepics.com/online/Worn-Repaired-Heart-1072089.aspx
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
The Fiber Story
About the first week I arrived at the Center, I was still learning the ins and outs of Center life. After spending a lot of time in a "Home group," it felt a lot like school, more so than I first imagined, and as you might imagine, my time in Homeroom group BIB (Body in Balance) had given me a firm concept in affirmations.
From this point onward, I was writing affirmations, my room-mate, Harold had begun a specific regiment of walking late at night and I myself had begun to stick my affirmation cards on the wall. It was difficult slipping out because I wanted to keep my curfew, and try staying in and going to bed at a proper time.
Every day, for the first week, I wanted to rise about six, have "Flax" and write affirmations on a new day.
I made affirmations for myself, cutting at times images and words from the magazines and playing with their designs and passing them to people in the hall.
My wall was filled with affirmations, because for the first week, I knew almost no one, and it took me at least three days to ask, "Where is the gym again?"
Cut to two days later; I would not be seeing the nutritionist for at least a weak, and though I was eating well, and drinking water like a "mofo," and summarily going to the bathroom a lot.
This would be before the introduction of "Fish Oil" into my life. Fish oil and more fish oil and then that multivitamin issued by the Center.
(The writing alone on the Center's multivitamin package was at least a page.)
Well, after a few days, I began to get antsy, and I wanted to see the nutritionist, and I was unwilling to wait--I wanted to see her now.
Plus, Ray and others had apparently had blood work done, and I had had, what exactly?
Computer testing?
Right?
And on Wednesday, I was going to have more.
"*&$#@!"
So, shortly after my initial melt-down over the paperwork, (See later Journal entry on Humility) I began to write notes. I wrote notes, and more notes. My notes were tame at first.
______________________________
Dear Matt P,
I really want to see the nutritionist?
James.
_______________________________
Then later,
________________________
Dear Doctor K,
Can we talk for a minute, about some food choices. I need some advice.
__________________________
As you can imagine, my notes got shorter, quicker and they lost their formality. Inside, I wanted to know why my schedule looked so light, compared to the rivers of black ink the others were facing, not to mention the fact, that everyone had a balcony. There was a big window, but no balcony, but that wasn't a big issue, and then it happened, I was taken in to talk to Doctor K.
The two major doctors at the center are Doctor K and Doctor B, and i was scheduled for a Whole HALF hour with each.
Well at this point, Doctor K took my blood, and he took a lot of blood, at least for vials for something that he referred to as "Lipids."
At that point, I was taken in to talk to Doctor B, who started talking to me. I burst forward with, "Doctor B, I really want to get on a nutrition plan, so before i see Katey, can we jump start something?"
Doctor B, froze for a moment, as if , I guess, he was unsure if I was serious, so i reiterated. "I know some people say they want it and do nothing, but I'm going to assure you, you tell me to eat 26 onions a day--I will."
There was a pause, and the first thing he begin saying was about Fiber. Fiber needed to be upped in my diet. So, I wrote in Huge letters across my journal:
FIBER INCREASE! NOW!
So, was you might imagine, I started taking down notes, but the major note, that I kept returning to was the fiber. My amounts of fiber had to be increased. At one point, Doctor B, wanted me to increase my water. He began to talk about 6 or 8 glasses. I said. "No no no no no, glasses, please, tell me how many times a day to fill and drain my water bottle." He pauses. Maybe I was pushy. "Three times." I smiled. "Can do!"
Then I shuffled off for choice time and some quick shopping. I had it all in plan, and i bought some fantastic fiber bars! Then it started. The Gas. Yes, gas galore. One day, i sweat felt like a walking fart factory. I tried to release such natural gas into the Edmond's air, but the gas just kept coming!
Gas and gas and more gas. I started farting, really badly, like over and over, and in places where I said silent prayers that they could not smell or hear me. In my apartment, the roommates were talking and I'd slip down the stairs to let one loose in my room.
Fiber increase my ass!
Well, distinctly my ass. Because, I was a walking poop machine for a while. I was also a walking water drinking machine. IT eventually leveled off, but ab out a week later, Doctor B had us in nutrition class, and it was then that he told us about fiber.
Even now, I'm a little angry. Doctor B:
You want to increase fiber in your diet incrementally. Not quickly. Slowly because your body needs time to adjust.
I was stunned. You Bastard! You didn't tell me that, you mean, I could have avoided gas poisoning every child in Edmonds, Washington for about a week and a half?
I looked over at him for a second, and I swear, I swear, a smile curled to his lips.
Score:
________________
James E: 0
Doctor B: 1
________________
Moral?
Is there really a moral here?
I guess the answer is, not to push too fast, which I think the Center was trying to teach me, but like all things, I simply had to learn in time. Each lesson, learned at the center, isn't always a fun one, but I can guarantee that I'll remember most of them the rest of my days.
Your affirmation leader,
James
From this point onward, I was writing affirmations, my room-mate, Harold had begun a specific regiment of walking late at night and I myself had begun to stick my affirmation cards on the wall. It was difficult slipping out because I wanted to keep my curfew, and try staying in and going to bed at a proper time.
Every day, for the first week, I wanted to rise about six, have "Flax" and write affirmations on a new day.
I made affirmations for myself, cutting at times images and words from the magazines and playing with their designs and passing them to people in the hall.
My wall was filled with affirmations, because for the first week, I knew almost no one, and it took me at least three days to ask, "Where is the gym again?"
Cut to two days later; I would not be seeing the nutritionist for at least a weak, and though I was eating well, and drinking water like a "mofo," and summarily going to the bathroom a lot.
This would be before the introduction of "Fish Oil" into my life. Fish oil and more fish oil and then that multivitamin issued by the Center.
(The writing alone on the Center's multivitamin package was at least a page.)
Well, after a few days, I began to get antsy, and I wanted to see the nutritionist, and I was unwilling to wait--I wanted to see her now.
Plus, Ray and others had apparently had blood work done, and I had had, what exactly?
Computer testing?
Right?
And on Wednesday, I was going to have more.
"*&$#@!"
So, shortly after my initial melt-down over the paperwork, (See later Journal entry on Humility) I began to write notes. I wrote notes, and more notes. My notes were tame at first.
______________________________
Dear Matt P,
I really want to see the nutritionist?
James.
_______________________________
Then later,
________________________
Dear Doctor K,
Can we talk for a minute, about some food choices. I need some advice.
__________________________
As you can imagine, my notes got shorter, quicker and they lost their formality. Inside, I wanted to know why my schedule looked so light, compared to the rivers of black ink the others were facing, not to mention the fact, that everyone had a balcony. There was a big window, but no balcony, but that wasn't a big issue, and then it happened, I was taken in to talk to Doctor K.
The two major doctors at the center are Doctor K and Doctor B, and i was scheduled for a Whole HALF hour with each.
Well at this point, Doctor K took my blood, and he took a lot of blood, at least for vials for something that he referred to as "Lipids."
At that point, I was taken in to talk to Doctor B, who started talking to me. I burst forward with, "Doctor B, I really want to get on a nutrition plan, so before i see Katey, can we jump start something?"
Doctor B, froze for a moment, as if , I guess, he was unsure if I was serious, so i reiterated. "I know some people say they want it and do nothing, but I'm going to assure you, you tell me to eat 26 onions a day--I will."
There was a pause, and the first thing he begin saying was about Fiber. Fiber needed to be upped in my diet. So, I wrote in Huge letters across my journal:
FIBER INCREASE! NOW!
So, was you might imagine, I started taking down notes, but the major note, that I kept returning to was the fiber. My amounts of fiber had to be increased. At one point, Doctor B, wanted me to increase my water. He began to talk about 6 or 8 glasses. I said. "No no no no no, glasses, please, tell me how many times a day to fill and drain my water bottle." He pauses. Maybe I was pushy. "Three times." I smiled. "Can do!"
Then I shuffled off for choice time and some quick shopping. I had it all in plan, and i bought some fantastic fiber bars! Then it started. The Gas. Yes, gas galore. One day, i sweat felt like a walking fart factory. I tried to release such natural gas into the Edmond's air, but the gas just kept coming!
Gas and gas and more gas. I started farting, really badly, like over and over, and in places where I said silent prayers that they could not smell or hear me. In my apartment, the roommates were talking and I'd slip down the stairs to let one loose in my room.
Fiber increase my ass!
Well, distinctly my ass. Because, I was a walking poop machine for a while. I was also a walking water drinking machine. IT eventually leveled off, but ab out a week later, Doctor B had us in nutrition class, and it was then that he told us about fiber.
Even now, I'm a little angry. Doctor B:
You want to increase fiber in your diet incrementally. Not quickly. Slowly because your body needs time to adjust.
I was stunned. You Bastard! You didn't tell me that, you mean, I could have avoided gas poisoning every child in Edmonds, Washington for about a week and a half?
I looked over at him for a second, and I swear, I swear, a smile curled to his lips.
Score:
________________
James E: 0
Doctor B: 1
________________
Moral?
Is there really a moral here?
I guess the answer is, not to push too fast, which I think the Center was trying to teach me, but like all things, I simply had to learn in time. Each lesson, learned at the center, isn't always a fun one, but I can guarantee that I'll remember most of them the rest of my days.
Your affirmation leader,
James
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