Now that I’m in my second week, I’ve decided to post diet updates only once a week, at the beginning of each week. I don’t want this to turn into a weight loss blog. I’ll post updates each Saturday.
Still going strong, though. Lost another two pounds, ten pounds total so far.
Day Seven, down another pound, I’ve lost eight pounds so far. Most of it is water weight, though. The loss of the eighth pound was hard-earned and an indication of what’s to come. I’ll be happy if I lose a pound a week in the future. That’s okay, though.
I did go for a one-hour walk on Tuesday, but it was raining on Wednesday, so I spent thirty minutes on the treadmill instead. No exercise, yesterday, though.
I decided to revise my exercise plan and make it considerably less ambitious. It’s a rookie mistake, to try and do too much at the beginning. I guess that’s why so many New Year’s Resolutions fail. I’m amazingly relaxed about my diet, but over-reached when I made plans for exercising.
My new goal is to spend three hours a week walking around the neighourhood, and to spend thirty minutes a week on the treadmill. I’ll try that next week, and see if that’s more manageable.
Down another pound, although this loss was hard-earned. I ate only a grapefruit and a couple of pieces of dried figs after noon and went to bed hungry. I am eating approximately 1.500 calories a day and am including complex carbs in my diet (potatoes and whole grain spaghetti, for example), but I try to eat most of my meals before 1:00 PM, because that’s the only way I’ll lose weight. Keep in mind, though, that I do get up at 5:00 AM, and am ready for a second breakfast by the time everybody else gets out of bed in the morning.
© http://www.sleeplessinvienna.com
I went for another walk yesterday, which lasted considerably longer than I had planned. I picked a destination – the Semmelweiss Frauenklinik, a women’s clinic located in a neighouring district –, which can only be reached on foot in a roundabout way from where I live. The whole walk lasted almost 90 minutes, and I was quite tired afterwards, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
I’d been there only once, some 45 years ago. This is where I entered the world. I was born at the Semmelweiss Frauenklinik, which is located in the 18thdistrict of Vienna. It occupies six pavilions, four of which were built in the Art Nouveau style between 1908 and 1910, and the clinic is surrounded by a park. In 1943, two more pavilions were added. In 2015, the clinic will move to another location. I’m not sure what will happen to the buildings, but they have been designated as “historically significant,” so they won’t be knocked down.
© http://www.sleeplessinvienna.com
Ignaz Semmelweiss is famous for discovering that mortality could be cut down drastically in obstetrical clinics (all clinics, really), if doctors and nurses only washed their hands more often. Very useful stuff that, hand disinfection.
Anyway, I survived this rather vigorous walk – up a hill, then down, and up another one to reach the clinic; then down, and up, and down again to get home. I feel almost silly now for planning to take a few leisurely strolls around my neighourhood. I never quite noticed before that I am surrounded by hills.
© http://www.sleeplessinvienna.com
After three days of moderate exercise, I already feel better. So I’m going to keep it up: explore the neighourhood, get some fresh air, and improve my fitness along the way.
I’ve lost another three pounds, a little over six pounds total so far. It’s nothing to get excited about, really, as this is most likely all water weight. Still, it’s an excellent start to what will undoubtedly be a very long diet.
I was still quite exhausted in the afternoon from the previous day’s walk, but decided to stick to my plan (daily one-hour walks) and went for another stroll in the afternoon. I live in one of the outer districts of Vienna, which is dominated by parks, trees, and vineyards. It’s a great place to live and I don’t really take enough advantage of it.
© http://www.sleeplessinvienna.com
There’s a street close to my home, which heads straight up into the hills and towards the vineyards. I went for an 80-minute circular walk, and passed through the Sieveringer Cemetery, which is located next to a vineyard.
There are several cemeteries in my district, which date back to the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, and many of the graves are very old.
I love reading the engravings on them. Zither player Anton Karas, who composed the “Harry Lime” theme for the movie “The Third Man,” is buried there.
I was exhausted when I got back, but not nearly as much as the day before. I think I’m just terribly out of shape. Clearly, I’m not managing my illness well. I wow to do better in the future and commit to these daily walks.
After one day of dieting, I’m down almost three pounds. This is not altogether surprising. As I’ve said before, after seven years on steroid medication, I know how my body reacts to certain foods.
Steroid-induced cravings for carbohydrates is something I will have to deal with as long as I have to take my medication; but I’ve learned to keep them to a minimum. I eat most of my carbs mid-morning, then some more mid-day, and that’s it. It’s only fruit and (vegan) yoghurt in the afternoon, and I skip dinner altogether.
That’s what I did yesterday, and that’s how I lose weight. Of course, that’s also where the problem lies. Skipping dinner is not a lot of fun, and I don’t have the discipline to do it every day. Dinner means that I will gain a pound (or two). Steroids and carbs in the evening simply don’t mix. So this is the main challenge: skip dinner every day.
I know already that I will fail. I wouldn’t have gained all that extra weight, if I had the required discipline – who has? But I’ll do my best, and hopefully I’ll succeed more often than I’ll fail.
Yesterday was easy. I was properly motivated and wanted to kick-start my diet. I’d hoped to lose a pound or two, and am pleasantly surprised that I’m down almost three pounds. It’s partly water weight, I know, but who cares? I’m off to a good start.
I was shocked, however, by the effects of a simple, leisurely walk on my body. I was completely exhausted afterwards. I went for a morning walk at around 7:00 AM and was home a little over an hour later. I spent the rest of the day on the couch: I was feverish, had shivering fits, and my whole body hurt. I was completely exhausted. I still haven’t recovered fully a day and a half later.
I wasn’t aware that I was in such bad shape, really. I wonder if my disease has progressed. My lung function has decreased over the last year, but I wasn’t too worried. I have no trouble breathing when I’m at home. It’s just when I exercise that I notice my decreased lung function capacity. Steroid medication will mask the effects of a disease on the body: I feel better and stronger than I really am. When the dosage of my medication is reduced, I feel generally worse, because I then get to experience the full effects of my autoimmune disease (Sarcoidosis) on my body. I reduced the dosage of my medication three weeks ago and I didn’t exercise at all until yesterday. I have to say I’m a little worried.
© http://www.sleeplessinvienna.com
I’m still planning on taking one-hour walks each day, but I’ll do them in the evenings, so I can go straight to bed after I return home. Early morning walks are out;This is a photo from yesterday’s early morning walk, taken at an old cemetery.
Day One: I step on the bathroom scale and am not surprised to see that I have gained nine pounds during the last three and a half weeks. This weight gain is caused by a change in the dosage of my steroid medication. Any change – regardless if it’s an increase or decrease – has nasty side effects. Joint pain (quite bad on the first day, but it decreases and then disappears after two or three days); headaches (occasionally), fatigue (more than usual), and considerable weight gain due to intense cravings for carbohydrates. These cravings will last for three or four weeks, then they’ll get less intense (I’m in my fourth week.). Eventually, I will start eating normally again and will slowly lose the 8-10 pounds I gained during those “medication adjustment periods.”
I’ve been through this process enough times – 56 times, to be exact – to know how my body reacts to changes in the dosage of my medication. So I’m not worried about those few (nine) extra pounds.
But I now need to lose 70 pounds instead of “just” 60 pounds. This will take some planning.
I don’t have big plans for a specific diet (yet), as I actually eat quite healthily most of the time. I’m a vegan and eat mostly organic food. I cook from scratch. There are hardly any processed foods in my fridge or pantry. And as I work from home, I eat most of my meals at home. 90 percent of the time, I eat as I should.
It’s those steroid-induced carb cravings that trip me up time and again: potato crisps, pasta, white rice, Chinese take-outs, bread (any kind of bread, really).
Whenever I give in to those cravings, that’s when I add a pound (or two), and over time, it all adds up. My one real goal – for now – is to cut out these foods. That alone should make a huge difference.
I know I should also exercise, but this is a bit tricky. I’ve written about the challenges of exercising while living with a chronic illness before. (“To exercise or not to exercise?”) I have very little energy and I need to preserve it, so I can work. I can either work or exercise, but generally not both on any given day.
But I am well enough for leisurely walks around the neighbourhood, and I decide to get out of the house for an hour every day. I’m not planning to power-walk, I’ll just stroll gently around the neighbourhood. It won’t do much in terms of exercise, but it’s a start, and more than I’m doing now.
Losing 70 pounds is a huge endeavor. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, so there’s really no point in getting too ambitious right out of the starting gate. Slow changes will probably prove to be more effective in the end.
Here’s a photo of this morning’s walk. A view from the park near my home.
© http://www.sleeplessinvienna.com
I’ve dreaded this day for a while now, knowing that it would come eventually, that it had to come, but tried to ignore it all the same. No use. It’s finally arrived: the start of a new diet.
I’ve been here many times before, as have most women. We lose a few pounds, then gain them back and add a few extra, just for fun. I think I’ve been on a dozen different diets in my life (I’m 45 years old). Like most women, I went on diets even when I didn’t need to.
I didn’t actually start to put on the pounds for real until about ten years ago. I was living in London, England, and my life was falling apart. I wanted to change careers, but didn’t really know what I wanted to do next, which caused me considerable stress. I also wasn’t feeling well. I had no energy, was depressed, anxious, irritable, suffered from mood swings, had trouble sleeping, and couldn’t concentrate. I knew something was wrong, but didn’t take the warning signs seriously. I (wrongly) thought I that might be experiencing early menopause. I was stressed, and I ate. I put on twenty pounds.
In the spring of 2003, shortly before my 36th birthday, I moved back to Vienna, Austria, my hometown. I had to find an apartment, a job, and start all over again. I didn’t see a doctor until months later, when I caught the flu, and somehow couldn’t recover. That’s when I was finally diagnosed with the autoimmune disease Sarcoidosis, and – when the disease progressed – was put on steroid medication. I quickly put on another 50 pounds.
I’ve been taking steroids now for more than seven years, and my weight has gone up and down – depending somewhat on the dosage of my medication. I’m stressed when I look in the mirror. “This is not me,” I think; but of course it is me, the “me” with the chronic illness – which is something else I have trouble comprehending. Me, sick?
I’m torn between finally accepting that this is how I look and trying to lose weight just one more time.
I decide to fight. This is not how I want to look. I also want to be able to go for a run in the park, and I know that I would be able to manage my disease better if I lost some weight. Reasons enough to give it another try.
I also want to show other patients, who have to take steroids, that it can be done. There are so many of us who gain a lot of weight when we’re put on steroids, and there’s so much despair. A considerable weight gain in a short period of time will always be noticed. A friend of mine gained more than thirty pounds in just a few weeks. She almost didn’t attend our 35th elementary school reunion because of it.
“Fat” equals lazy, unambitious, incompetent, or worse. In Western society, we’re all judged on our looks. I remember reading a comment a while ago (on an online network for patients) by a woman who said that her husband wouldn’t even look at her anymore because she had gained so much weight. I was never happier to be single than when I read her remarks.
Strangely enough, I am confident that it actually is possible to lose weight while I’m taking steroid medication. After more than seven years, I know my body very well. I know how it reacts to certain foods, and which foods I generally need to avoid. Timing is also important (no carbs for dinner). I’ve learned more about nutrition and how my body works than most doctors will ever know. I figure, if anyone can do it, I can.
So this is it, Day Zero. Only 60 pounds to go.
I installed a new theme on this blog and got rid of the header in the process. I also played around with the widgets and will add more photos in the future. I started to get bored with my own site, so it was time to shake it up.
© http://www.sleeplessinvienna.com
I see my doctors more often than my family and friends (combined). In the last three months, I have seen an ophthalmologist (the autoimmune disease Sarcoidosis and the steroids, which I take to keep it in check, can both damage the eyes) and a dentist (the steroids draw calcium from the bones and therefore damage the teeth). I’ve been to the hospital twice for my quarterly check-ups (January and April, for lung function tests, blood works, and x-rays), and had to return for an EEG and an echocardiogram. When the echocardiogram showed an abnormality around my heart, I had to go back for a follow-up check a few weeks later. Now I need to see a cardiologist. I’ve also been to my GP twice, to refill my prescription.
Being sick is a full-time job, and as is true with any job, you eventually become good at it. When you have a chronic illness, you become a “medical” expert of sorts. After a while it becomes relatively easy to recognize which doctors are good at their jobs, and which aren’t. That’s an invaluable survival skill for life-long patients like myself. What might surprise you is that “good” doesn’t necessarily mean “right.”
I have bad eyesight, and my illness and the medication can both damage the eyes, so I need regular check-ups. A few years ago, an ophthalmologist diagnosed the beginning of so-called “dry” macular degeneration in both my eyes. This condition is a major cause for blindness, and there are currently no (surgical or medical) treatments for it. Macular degeneration usually affects older people – the actress Judi Dench recently revealed that she suffers from this condition. I was 38 years old, when I was first diagnosed seven years ago. Luckily, it hasn’t progressed since, and my eyesight hasn’t yet been affected by it.
Over the years, several ophthalmologists have confirmed the diagnosis. Then two years ago, one of the doctors at the hospital where I’m treated for Sarcoidosis, said that I didn’t actually have macular degeneration. I just have really bad eyesight and the way the eyes’ lenses are shaped due to severe myopia can sometimes be mistaken for macular degeneration (or something like that). Good news, I thought!
A year later, he insisted I indeed did have macular degeneration (and that he never said otherwise). Go figure.
I found another doctor, who just diagnosed “no macular degeneration” again (but early stages of cataracts in both eyes).
I’m not sure I believe her. Chances are she’s wrong in regard to the macular degeneration, as half a dozen doctors have already confirmed the condition. Yet I consider her a good doctor and intend to stick with her.
Unlike my last ophthalmologist, who rushed through the eye exam, wrote me a wrong prescription for my glasses, and didn’t take the time to answer any of my questions, this doctor took me (and my concerns) seriously. Potential blindness is scary, and she took the time to ease my worries. When we discussed future surgery for my cataracts, she pointed out a positive aspect of it: she might be able to correct my severe near-sightedness at the same time. As a result, I am much less scared of this surgery (which hopefully won’t happen soon).
I can’t overstate how important those things are for patients. We don’t have medical knowledge and we don’t know what’s going on with our bodies – that’s scary. If doctors take the time to take us seriously, treat us with respect, and actually talk to us, we’re more likely to stick with them, even if it turns out that they’re not perfect.
I’ve done enough research to know that macular degeneration is untreatable (at this time anyway), so when or if I go blind, I’ll just have to deal with it. It doesn’t really matter, if my doctor’s current diagnosis is right or wrong. If I do have macular degeneration, it seems to be in the early stages – and when you’re chronically ill, you learn not to mind the little things.
Chronic patients learn very quickly that medicine isn’t an exact science. Very often, it’s trial and error. Different doctors favor different forms of treatments, and they might even occasionally be wrong. I’m aware of that, and it’s okay. No one’s perfect. For a doctor to be good at his/her job doesn’t always mean that he/she needs to be right. Other factors matter just as much, like knowing how to communicate with patients.
Self-pity is a beautiful thing: to feel sorry for myself and to be angry at my lack of health, at doctors who don’t do their jobs properly, at friends who don’t understand, and at the world at large – oh, I love it. It’s better than therapy; and so much cheaper.
I’ve been living with a chronic illness for eight years now. That’s eight years of managing my health. Every day I need to decide how to best use what little energy I have. Work? Definitely. Socialize? Probably not. Live a normal life? What’s that, exactly? Pardon me, but it’s been so long, I’ve forgotten.
I’m so sick and tired of having a compromised immune system. If I’m not fighting an infection, I’m recovering from one. The long-term side effects of the steroids I have to take daily to keep my Sarcoidosis in check are now starting to show: I’m developing cataracts. That’s in addition to early macula degeneration, unrelated to Sarcoidosis. I’m starting to go blind in my forties. Lucky me.
I’m refusing bone density tests so far. If I’m developing osteoporosis, another side effect of the steroids, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to deal with any more bad news. A recent echocardiogram showed water around my heart. Where did that come from? And is it going to go away? (Without medication, preferably?).
Most of the time I handle my illness well. I never ask “why me,” because “why not me?” Somebody’s got to be sick, and apparently, I’m it. But every once in a while I prescribe myself a generous dose of self-pity. I allow myself to go mad, in order to keep my sanity. Makes sense, no?
You’d think that the answer to this question is a no-brainer, but it really isn’t; not if you live with a chronic illness.
Exercise is important, even more so for a person whose health is compromised. But it’s hard enough to find the time, energy, and discipline to exercise when you are healthy; it’s almost impossible when you are living with a chronic illness.
For starters, we spend a lot of time at hospitals and doctor’s offices. It really does add up. If I were able to spend all that time exercising, I’d be running marathons – and winning.
Symptoms vary with each illness, of course, but most of us are tired, fatigued, exhausted – all day, every day. I have about a third of the energy I used to have, and that’s on a good day. I have a treadmill at home, which I love, but I can either work or work out. Most days, I haven’t got enough energy for both. Last week, I spent an hour on the treadmill. I spent the next day on the couch.
Impaired immune systems mean that we get sick easily and it takes forever to get well again. Exercising while fighting an infection is a no-no for a chronically ill person. I caught a cold in mid-December and still haven’t recovered fully from it two months later. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that March will finally be the month when my lung function improves again. Or maybe April. May?
I wish I were able to go for a run in the park, like I used to, and to think that I might never be able to do that again–. I don’t want to think about it, really. It’s too depressing. I know I need to exercise to improve my overall health, but exercising makes me feel even worse.
Not sure what to do.
Any suggestions?
As a chronically ill patient, I take daily doses of steroids which draw calcium from my bones. As a result, I am at an increased risk for osteoporosis. According to my doctors, bone density testing is an essential part of managing my disease.
I’m nothing if not compliant.
My bone density tests generally consist of tumbling down a flight of stairs. It’s not a procedure I recommend – not even for myself – but my subconscious somehow seems to prefer this test to other, more conventional methods (like getting my joints x-rayed).
I took my first bone density test about four years ago. I was distracted, missed a step, and voila. Stairs. Tumbling. Falling. Pain. More pain. It wasn’t pretty.
I couldn’t walk for days and had to crawl to the bathroom on all fours, but was absolutely ecstatic. All I could think was, “I didn’t break any bones.” Never mind that it took me almost three months before I could wear heels again.
I never went to see a doctor (How? On all fours?) but I’ll insist to my dying day that I did not break any bones.
Yesterday’s fall was less dramatic. It was raining, the stairs in my office building were wet, and I was wearing the wrong shoes. “Be careful,” was my first thought, immediately followed by “protect your head” as I slipped and fell.
I did manage to catch my fall and did not bang my head, and who cares about a few bruises here and there (and there and there and there) anyway.
No broken bones, people. None!
Bone density testing completed. No further tests required for at least another year.
© www.sleeplessinvienna.com
These boots were made for walking – and that’s exactly what they’re doing. In fact, this week they’re walking all over London, England.
I hadn’t really planned on taking a vacation, but I realized that 2012 was shaping up to be a busy year for me, and this was probably my last chance for a vacation until next fall. So I booked a ticket, packed my bags, and here I am: London, England.
I know the city well, having lived here in the late nineties and early noughties. I’ve seen all the sights, I’ve been to all the museums, there’s nothing on my “to do” list other than “walk around the city” and “relax.”
I spend my days walking, reading, and hanging out in coffee shops, not doing much of anything.
Eight days of total bliss.
I failed the daily blogging challenge. I did quite well until November 17, then I got sick, and that was it.
That’s how I live my life: stop-and-go.
When I get sick, I put my life on hold. When I get better, I get on with it.
Luckily, I am self-employed and work from home. I don’t have many meetings and appointments. When I get sick, I work just enough to meet my deadlines. But I don’t blog, I don’t facebook, and I ignore my friends and family (they’re used to it).
I shop in bulk for groceries when I feel well, and subscribe to a weekly organic box delivery scheme: fresh fruit and vegetables are delivered to my door. I always have several unread books and new DVDs on hand, which I watch whenever I feel poorly. I get my medications from the pharmacy weeks in advance. If necessary, I can stay at home for a month without ever having to leave the house.
After living with a chronic illness for several years, this all feels normal to me.
How strange is that?
Due to illness I won’t continue my participation in the “daily blogging” challenge (NaBloPoMo). I hope to be back online in a few days.
Back here in good old Europe, we’re quite fascinated by Americans. They’re truly a different species. I lived in the US for several years, and felt like an alien most of the time.
I thought that many Americans lacked a sense of humor. They don’t get sarcasm or irony, and they don’t take the piss out of themselves like Europeans do. (The British are especially good at this.) I’ve also noticed that American women are quite easily offended. It’s all about political correctness. Ironically, some of the most cutting-edge comedians are American, and Bill Maher is one of the best. Smart and intelligent, and always funny.
It’s fascinating to watch the whole Bill Maher – Elisabeth Hasselbeck brouhaha, which played out this week on television and the Internet.
For all of you who don’t know what I’m talking about: Bill Maher was a guest on a talk show called “The View.” Elisbeth Hasselbeck is one of the show’s female hosts.
Maher started out by saying: “…any institution where there’s no women around, like the church, like football, like the Middle East, like fraternities, it just goes to hell. You do need women as a moderating influence. When men are just among men, they just do stupid things. That’s really true.”
(I love the man. I really do.)
Hasselbeck doubted his support of women: “…I just want to go back to a time that actually bothered me, just not for my own personal reasons, but just for women… In February last year, Lara Logan (a journalist, ed.), as you recall, was in Egypt, and she was brutally attacked by a mob there. She came back and said: their hands raping me over and over again, tearing up my body in every direction, trying to tear off junks of my skull. I was in no doubt in the process of dying. Now prior to her coming back, Bill, you, on your show said: Now that Mubarak has released Lara Logan, he must put her intrepid hotness on a plane immediately, in exchange we will send Elisabeth Hasselbeck.”
She continued: “You can’t sit here right now and tell me… I’m wrong for saying, hmh, that wasn’t that funny.”
Actually, Elisabeth, he can. So can everybody else, who actually got the joke, including women. See, Bill Maher wasn’t making fun of women being raped. He was making fun of you!
He thinks Lara Logan is fearless and sexy. He’s glad she’s coming back to the US unharmed. By contrast, he thinks that you are not hot, that you are expendable, and that nobody will miss you, if you’re gone.
And that’s why people were laughing, and are laughing still.
(I can’t believe I’m actually explaining the joke.)
Hasselbeck’s co-hosts got it, and they understood that this joke was about her lack of “intrepid hotness,” and not about the rape of women. Barbara Walters even made a comment about being made fun of by others for years and how she survived it. Now that’s classy.
Being made fun of goes with the territory, if you are a public figure, and Bill Maher goes on to say just that a little later.
But Elisabeth Hasselbeck didn’t want to concede that she was the butt of a very funny joke (and not considered sexy, apparently), so she tried to turn the joke into a “serious issue:” the “trade of women.”
Hasselbeck: “My feelings weren’t hurt. I’m speaking on behalf of women. We don’t trade women in this country. It shouldn’t be a global issue. And quite frankly, I know what’s funny. I work with funny.”
Actually, you don’t. And you certainly don’t speak for all women.
Let’s end this post by retelling the joke in a way that everybody will understand, shall we?
Hasselbeck: “Mirror, mirror, on the wall; who is the most beautiful of all?”
Bill Maher: “Sorry, sister, it ain’t you.”
Another link, just so I won’t fail the daily NaBloPoMo challenge.
My favourite blog:
“The true-life diary of a thirty-something, displaced Southerner living in Los Angeles with a herd of felines.”
She knits, and writes, drinks lots of wine, and posts many pictures of her three cats (thank you, I love those).
Very busy today, so I’m just posting a link.
The Guardian is my favourite newspaper, and each week they publish the most amazing animal photographs online.
The Week in Wildlife:
I just read the article by BlogHer writer Rita Arens about the judge from Texas who beat his disabled teenage daughter with a belt for seven minutes. His then 16-year old daughter Hilary, who is now 23 years old, secretly taped the beating and recently put it on the Internet, where it went viral.
BlogHer – Rita Arens: Texas Judge Beats Daughter, And I’m So Glad She Taped It
What amazes me most about this story is that the crime committed by a father against his daughter seems to have no apparent legal consequences. It looks as if this man might actually get away with it. He might even keep his job. Crimes against children don’t seem to be taken very seriously by the legal system in the United States (and in many other countries).
It’s ironic, really, because I vividly remember the case of American teenager Michael Fay, who was sentenced to caning by a court in Singapore for vandalism and theft in 1994.
The Texan judge accused his daughter of theft – she illegally downloaded songs from the Internet. Michael Fay was accused of theft also. Judge William Adams beat his daughter Hillary with a “big belt.” Michael Fay was caned.
Same difference. However, her beating was much more severe and lasted considerably longer than his.
Yet, when Michael Fay was sentenced to caning in Singapore, high-ranking diplomats worked around the clock to reduce his sentencing. “The number of cane strokes in his sentence was reduced from six to four after U.S. officials requested leniency.” (Wikipedia, “Michael P. Fay”)
According to Wikipedia, U.S. President Bill Clinton “called the punishment (of Michael Fay) extreme and mistaken.”
Have any officials or politicians spoken out on Hilary Adams’s behalf? Did President Obama declare her beating “extreme and mistaken?”
It’s almost funny that American officials get all righteous when a foreign government punishes one of their own, but American parents are allowed to abuse and torture their children on US soil with apparently no consequences at all.
Beating children is wrong. No parent should be allowed to beat his or her child. There should be no statute of limitation for crimes committed against children. And yes, beating children is always a crime.
A judge, who beats his daughter with a belt for seven minutes, should lose his job and go to jail for a very long time.
All right. Let’s have a serious conversation about insomnia. After all, my blog isn’t called “Sleepless in Vienna” for nothing.
I was always an insomniac, even as a child. It takes me two or three hours to fall asleep, sometimes more, but I never did mind. It’s all I’ve ever known. Lying in bed for hours, thinking about my day, making up stories; to me that’s normal. That’s how you fall asleep.
In 2004, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, Sarcoidosis, and in early 2005 I had to start taking steroids. I’ve been on them ever since, with the exception of two months in late 2010. I’ll probably have to take them for the rest of my life.
When I first started to take glucocorticoids, my doctor’s only warning was “you’ll gain weight.” He never once mentioned insomnia. But those steroids mess with the body and insomnia is one of the side effects. For the next four years, during which time I took relatively high dosages of steroids, I hardly slept at all. I spent countless hours just lying in bed, resting.
During that time I was often asked why I didn’t take sleeping pills. Many people do, and that’s okay. But I was already taking two different kinds of drugs. I didn’t want to mess with my body (and my mind) any more than I absolutely had to. I kept telling myself, “I can do this one more day.” Much like an alcoholic in recovery, I lived day by day. One more day without sleeping pills. And then another day. And another. That’s how I got through the four worst years of my life. One day at a time.
During those four years, I didn’t have much of a life. I went to work, came home, and went to bed. I felt like a zombie most of the time and spent most of my weekends on the couch or in bed, resting. After two years, I quit my job and spent the following two years at home. This was a little better. I still suffered from severe insomnia, but at least I didn’t also have to spend eight hours a day at an office.
After four years, I decided to continue my treatment at another hospital, and that’s when things slowly started to get better. I decided to get actively involved in my own treatment and now make decisions about drugs and dosages together with my doctors. As a result, I was able to reduce the dosage of my medication considerably.
I also went into business for myself. Not having to work regular office hours has improved the quality of my life considerably. I make less money than before, but that’s okay.
It took another two years before I was able to get a good night’s sleep, but the last year was just wonderful. I slept so much, I even considered re-naming my blog. (It still takes me several hours to fall asleep, though. That’ll never change.)
My recent insomnia has many reasons: The clocks were turned back an hour at the end of daylight saving time in late October. My body did not react kindly to that change. I worry about health issues (mine and someone else’s). I’m in between projects, so there’s concern about money. I also managed my time badly (and had to get up early several times during the past month to finish work projects). And I drink way too much coffee. It’s no wonder I can’t sleep.
My current sleeplessness is more annoying than anything else. Yes, I could drink less coffee (and I will); yes, I could manage my time better (and I will). But we all have times when our lives are out of balance, and sleeplessness is a normal reaction to the stresses in our lives. I trust that my body will regain its balance eventually. In the meantime, I refuse to freak out, if I’m awake at 3:00 AM in the morning. I just get up and start my day.
Finally starting to get over my insomnia. Slept until 4:30 AM, and yes, that’s progress. Turned the phone off. Took a bath. Spent the day on the couch. Watched countless episodes of “The Closer.” Ate too much pasta, drank too much wine. Didn’t get any work done. Don’t care. Will drink more wine.
Not enough sleep and too much coffee = bad mood.
I shouldn’t be allowed in public today, and that includes the Internet.
Taking part in the NaBloPoMo challenge (posting something on my blog every day) is fun, but it truly is a challenge.
I’m self-employed, so my weeks and days aren’t structured. There are times when I don’t have much to do, and then there are days like today –
I still struggle with insomnia, I’ve worked non-stop for the last 12 hours, and now I still need to come up with something to say –
I’ve got nothing. Again.
Thank goodness for those daily writing prompts.
Thursday’s (November 3) question was: “Can you listen to music and write? What song did you hear today?”
No music when I’m writing. I didn’t listen to any music today. (That was easy!)
Wednesday, November 2: “If you knew that whatever you ate next would be your last meal, what would you want it to be?”
Fried tofu with a chili-peanut dip. (Funny, I thought it would be potatoes.)
Actually, I think that’s what I’ll have for dinner today, too.
Tuesday, November 1: “What is your favourite part about writing?”
I suffer from insomnia and I get most of my “writing” done at night, in my bed, in the dark, with my eyes closed. I just make up stories when I can’t sleep.
Friday, November 4: “When you are writing, do you prefer to use a pen or a computer?”
I get most of my writing done at night (see above), then jot down a few notes the next day, before I use the computer. I’m not picky; I’ll use any kind of pen, any paper, I have no specific writing rituals. I just need complete silence. I turn the phone off, so there won’t be any interruptions. And I do need to write at my desk, in my home office. I can’t write in hotels, or on planes or trains. I wish I could do that, but I need silence and solitude when I write.
Today: “It’s 11/11/11, make three wishes.”
Fried tofu with a chili-peanut dip.
A glass of red wine.
Watching several episodes of “The Good Wife” on DVD.
I think I’ll go and make those wishes come true now.
Due to massive brain fog caused by chronic insomnia (three weeks and counting), today’s post will be very short.
Hello!
I’ve got nothing to say.
Goodbye.
I need another blog entry today, for the NaBloPoMo challenge. Damn. What did I get myself into — ?
Luckily, there are the daily writing prompts. Today’s question is: “When was the first time you realized that your home was not like other people’s homes?”
Just now, actually. Never really thought about it before.
I moved around a lot. Eighteen times in forty-four years, to be exact. But this is it. My own home. No more moving vans for me, ever.
I also spent several years abroad. I lived a year in Connecticut and later spent three years in Los Angeles. (And yes, I always had the proper student/work visa/permit!) I also spent several years in London, UK (no work permit necessary for members of the European Union).
As a result, I have electronic equipment from three different countries, which all have different power systems. Electrical appliances in the United States require 110 voltage and a frequency of 60 Hz. In Austria and Great Britain, 230 Voltage/50 Hz is used. But Austria and Great Britain have different electrical plugs, so I can’t just plug my British equipment into the wall sockets in Austria (damn).
There are a lot of different plug adapters in my home as well as various voltage adapters.
I also have many (many!) VHS-tapes and DVDs. I started collecting films well over twenty years ago and then worked in the film industry for several years. I now have about 2.000 films on tape/DVDs. Some of the VHS-tapes were bought in the US (NTSC system), some of them I bought in Europe and Australia (all PAL systems).
Then there are the DVDs (bought in Austria, Germany, Great Britain, and the US). The DVDs are also either NTSC or PAL, and then there are regional codes, of course, for DVDS which are meant to prevent consumers in one country from buying DVDs from other countries. (Yeah, like that’s gonna work.)
I have four VHS-players, two of which are capable of screening tapes from both the US and Europe (NTSC and PAL systems). I only have one DVD player (so far), but I can watch DVDs from all regions and both NTSC and PAL systems.
And I haven’t downloaded a single film off the Internet, ever.
Everything’s store-bought.
How’s that for “different?”
Sleepless in Vienna