I’m currently sitting in a blue fabric chair with fixed arms in the waiting room of my local doctor’s surgery.
Chairs like this are one of my natural predators – worse even than the hateful little (but armless) red chairs at Slimming World meetings. I’m always wedged unceremoniously into their unflinching confines and I’m usually in pain because of it.
Encouragingly however (while it’s still snug) this seat is no longer painful. I can fit into it – which wasn’t the case the last time I was sitting here several months ago.
Thankfully I can also (I discovered this morning) fit into a Ford Ka – and get the seatbelt on, which was previously impossible.
I say thankfully because it meant that my much smaller friend could give me a lift home today from the park when I finally admitted to myself (and her) that I could no longer walk properly on my left leg after hobbling all the way there from my house to meet her.
It turns out that ignoring advice from the NHS website is a bad idea. Saying (like a complete idiot) that I would ‘walk through the pain’ whilst on a ten and a half mile jaunt around Warwick and Leamington yesterday means I’m now unable to lift the foot on my left upward or push downward on it without considerable discomfort.
(Goes in to see the doctor after being called)
I’ve been benched. I’m now on the reserve team.
I’m not allowed to walk (or even use my exercise bike) for at least a week – and I may not be able to walk for two. I’m allowed to swim but I have no swimwear and fear boats with harpoons.
I have an official diagnosis of shin splints in my left leg (as I suspected in my previous post). According to the doctor due to my excessive weight a torn tendon will also probably take longer to recover on me than someone half my size.
The doctor was actually very supportive, despite this rather demoralising diagnosis. We talked about possible causes and stretches I could do for a while, plus how I could prevent this happening again in the future. He was also very complementary about my weight loss, which made a refreshing change from the usual speech about needing to slim down and the likelihood that I would drop dead if I didn’t.
On the bright side it doesn’t seem like a stress fracture – which was a possibility according to the NHS website (as it’s only in one leg). He twisted, poked and manipulated my foot and shin bones for quite a while and was convinced it’s not bone related.
I was really worried about this. I’ve broken so many things (not just bones) with my weight that I think I’d have actually cried in his office if that was the case.
I’m REALLY REALLY REALLY &£*%ing angry though. This week was supposed to be all about me smashing my weight loss and sorting out the small gain I had on Saturday.
It’s de-railed me in a completely unexpected way and I feel like punching the wall. I hate the idea of sitting in my living room all day with my foot in the air. And I know that when I’m bored I’ll just be thinking about food.
It’s not a good place to be.
However – my friends have my back, and I have to listen to their advice. If I’m sitting down for a week I’m going to be burning a lot less calories and I must start considering what I can and can’t eat over the next seven days in the absence of exercise.
‘Maybe now is a good time to start thinking about portion sizes’ said an impressively fearless mate, who was valiantly willing to poke my particular bear for the greater good.
I’ll be honest – this line of conversation is something that raises my pulse a lot and instantly puts me in a mentally defensive posture. I usually have to talk myself down from the metaphorical ledge before I reply to anyone on this point (no matter how well intentioned or benevolent the person is) as my natural response involves either fight or flight.
I’m trying to be better in this respect and take well meaning advice as it comes.
Portion control is in many ways a much BIGGER issue for me than giving up alcohol or dieting. I always skirt around the issue and have not yet managed to crack this particular problem to the point that I feel free of the hold it has over me.
She is 100% right though. I’ve been avoiding this for a long time, and I told her as much last week over coffee.
Luckily so far I’ve been exercising like a demon and that’s picked up some of the ‘slack’ that I’ve caused caused by eating larger meals than I probably should. I’ve also been eating lots of good stuff rather than bad stuff.
These twin pillars of virtue have been holding up my little temple of denial, and have allowed me to put this important dietary issue on my ‘to do’ list rather than where it now has to be – on the ‘sort out now’ top five.
It doesn’t make me feel any better about it though.
I’m angry as I type because circumstances have conspired to make me confront something emotionally complex when I don’t honestly feel ready.
It’s particularly ironic because my conversation with a walking companion yesterday touched on just this topic – and once again it appears the universe was listening.
It heard my conversation – noted that my advice was incompatible with my behaviour and decided to make an example of me.
And here I am.
If I’m looking for some other plusses however this DOES mean some guilt free video gaming for a few days.
Maybe it’s not all bad internet. Maybe the universe just wants me to shoot more aliens. 👽