Looking for Answers

Welp, the ultrasound didn’t show any stones… but it did show fat deposits on my liver. Now, I have to go get an MRI (w/ and w/out contrast) of my liver so that my gastroenterologist can figure out whether or not I have nonalcoholic fatty liver disease. I’m 99% sure that I have it, because it would explain the pain in my upper right abdomen… and if I don’t, then who the fuck knows. I’m all about some answers.

For those of you playing along at home, this is my current medical condition.

1. Multiple Sclerosis
2. Seizure Disorder
3. Hypertension
4. High Triglycerides/Cholesterol
5. GERD
6. Gastritis
7. Colitis
8. Postpartum Depression
9. PTSD

I joked with Adam that NAFLD would be #10, so my punch card should be full and #11 will be free.  He didn’t laugh. Probably because I haven’t made a punch card yet… but I might, just to keep myself laughing. I keep looking on the bright side. No stones means no gallbladder surgery.

The first line of treatment both for high triglycerides/cholesterol and NAFLD is to lose weight, a minimum of 10% of total body weight over 6 months. (So, for me, that would be 21 pounds.) In theory, that’s totally doable.  I honestly would *love* to lose weight.  I’ve been trying for years now with no success.  It doesn’t matter if I’m on the paleo diet or not. Or if I’m active or not. Or if I’m both paleo and weightlifting.  Even pregnancy didn’t change my weight by more than 15 pounds.

Fortunately, at the beginning of May, I’ll actually finally be seeing an endocrinologist, and hopefully, she’ll be able to help me figure things out.  I mean, someone’s got to be able to help.  I don’t want to die from a heart attack (triglycerides/cholesterol), a stroke (hypertension), or liver failure (NAFLD) – all of which are caused by my being overweight. I’m willing to do whatever’s necessary.

In the meantime, Adam and I are getting back to the gym starting today. Being active never hurts. We took about a month off because Adam burnt his hand terribly on a hot pan, and I was having tons of seizures because of tummy troubles and hormone imbalances.  I’m not expecting magic or anything, but I’m really looking forward to just going for a 30 minute walk on the treadmill if nothing else. I hate being as sedentary as I have been. I’m tired of my tummy hurting, and I’m tired of feeling gross.

On a totally different note…

I was lucky enough that my mom came in for 10 days to help out and hang out with me and Henry while Adam was in and out of town for work.  I always appreciate my mom’s help, and am honestly flabbergasted at where she gets her energy.  To be honest, I’m ridiculously jealous. The lady’s 22 years older than me, and runs circles around me. She cooks and cleans and gets on the floor with the kiddo and doesn’t bat an eyelash…whereas I have given myself numerous mental high-fives just for remembering to transfer the laundry last night.

She also takes great pictures of her grandbaby. Here’s Henry in his Graco Bumper Jumper. He’s too tall for it, but he still can’t get enough. I’m really looking forward to Mom and Dad putting together his rocking horse for his birthday.

Celebrations

Speaking of… Adam’s birthday is tomorrow and Henry’s birthday is in 2 weeks, and I really haven’t done anything to prepare. Yes, I bought Adam a present, but he already got it – so that’s sorta anticlimactic.   And as for Henry… I have got to get my shit together.

Patterned tableware is 50% off at Party City right now.  I just have to force myself to stop being such a lazy curmudgeon. I’m like, “How the fuck are these paper plates this expensive even when they’re on sale? I can get 100 plain white paper plates for the cost of 8 of these ‘Wild at One’ plates, on sale.  Why do we need a tablecloth and paper cups?  Will he even CARE if I make him a smash cake? He can’t eat solids other than purees yet, and he won’t have any memory of it… It’s all just gonna be garbage!”

And then I have to remind myself that this is 100% postpartum depression talking. It’s the same inner voice that has dealt out other helpful advice such as, “Henry and Adam would have more money and be better off without you. You should just kill yourself.” I don’t listen to that voice. I treat it like the mental flatulence it is – odious and ephemeral.

Equally ephemeral… the quiet solitude of naptime.  Kiddo’s been down for almost an hour, so I’m gonna see if I can get a few things done before he stirs, and it’s time for me to feed him lunch.