It seems like every day I hear something about obesity. The newspapers are full of interviews with alarmed statisticians and staggering numbers. I've heard interviews (in the past week alone) with fat people, former fat people, doctors, nurses, urban planners and health advocates, all pontificating on how we got here and how we are going to fix it. Naturally it is something I think about a lot and something that really concerns me.
When I was pregnant with Paisley I gained a lot of weight. This was the first time in my life where I had ever really struggled with my weight. After she was born I was left with an entirely different body - an unfamiliar visitor that left me feeling awful. I felt like the inside no longer matched the outside and that people looked at me differently. There were all kinds of reasons why I put on the weight and although the diabetes didn't help, it was ultimately because I had consumed more calories than I expended. I realize the relationship isn't always so linear, and that the more we learn about our fat metabolism and obesity, the more complicated it gets, but still, you can't escape the fact that if you take in less calories than you burn, you won't continue to gain weight.
I started getting fit. I watched the pounds drop off and made friends at the local YMCA. I gained muscle tone and energy and enthusiasm for life. I looked better, I felt better and I was discovering a whole new me. At some point I passed over to evangelism. This happens to people. You discover running, or fitness, and you can't believe how it changes your life. You start to feel like if everyone could discover what you have discovered, they would feel this way too. It becomes a solution to everything you see around you - depression, obesity, heart disease, fad diets and low self-esteem. You start to see it as a cure-all and the people around you start to feel annoyed. :)
Here's the thing though. Exercise is a cure-all. That's not saying everyone likes it. I've come to realize that maybe some people will never feel the rush I feel after a good run (although part of me still insists with consistent effort over a long period of time it will happen) but nobody can argue that the run won't do them any good. The human body is designed to move. Our metabolisms are based on certain energy outputs and evolved under conditions with way less food and far more movement than we have today.
This pregnancy has been so incredibly different from my first, and it is all because of fitness. Losing the baby weight, getting healthy and then maintaining my routine throughout the pregnancy has left me feeling strong, energized and free. The baby of course is better off as well. I haven't gained nearly the weight I gained last time and I have no doubt the recovery will be easier, faster and more enjoyable as well. The only thing worse than being overweight was being pregnant and overweight.
Recognize that I am not talking about being skinny. I have a good friend who is super-fit and does Ironmans - she is incredibly strong and healthy. And she will never be skinny. It's not who she is or how she is built, but she (and her body) derives the benefits of fitness the same as anyone. I firmly believe that if I could snap my fingers and have everyone in the world experience feeling truly fit for one week, nobody would ever go back. It's the getting there that is so tough.
Across the world (or at least across the Western hemisphere) people are looking for an answer to obesity. If I could find that one motivator that would work for people, to push them over the edge into changing their lifestyle I would be a billionaire. Several times over. I often wonder what makes some people get off the couch and 350 lbs and start running, while others (the majority to be fair) just stay there. Is it personality, environment, chemicals? Have they just not found their motivation yet or is it so much more complicated?
I understand that genetics, social groups, past hitory, urban planning, social economic status, culture, race and education all play into this. I get that it's not simple - but what makes some people hit that wall and make a change while others watch from the sidelines?
Showing posts with label Thinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thinking. Show all posts
Friday, January 21, 2011
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Low School
Facebook has reconnected me with a lot of old friends from high school. It's been nice to see how everyone is doing, but strange to see so many people who I still remember as teenagers, having babies of their own. I was happy to leave high school and Fort McMurray and anxious to start a new life somewhere else. In hind sight, I was probably too anxious. Sometimes I wish I had stayed more connected, kept friends a little longer and not been so quick to start fresh. I was looking through pictures tonight and so many people I went to school with are still friends and still hang out together. It made me feel a little sad - like maybe I was missing out on the only thing I have left of my teenage years.
It has also made me think a lot about the people we lost along the way. Friends who died or were killed or who made decisions that they never really recovered from. It made me think especially about the handful of people I knew who committed suicide. When we were in high school, everything mattered so much. Who you dated (or didn't), who you hung out with, what you wore, whether you were in band or drama or played sports. It was a lot of pressure and I don't think any of us really dealt all that well with it. I guess some of us were better at hiding it than others.
When I think of the young people who chose to end their life it makes me feel so sad. I felt sad at the time of course, but now, standing on the other side of things, the real sadness of those loses is greater, even if it is numbed by time. If only they could have hung on a little longer, the things that seemed so bad would have become bearable, and eventually, laughable. Now, nearly 15 years later, the cool crowd doesn't exist anymore - we are all just people with partners, and jobs and kids. Nobody cares what you wore, or what bands you listened to or whether you were cool. The cliques merged long ago and the embarrassing moments have been forgotten. The heartbreaking words, "slut", "loser", "fag" have lost some of their power and we are all a little kinder and wiser. They were so close to making it out, out into the real worlds, into their lives full of opportunity and the potential to become what they wanted. The girlfriends they thought were worth dying for would have become nothing more than a school crush and the agony of not belonging might have fueled a life full of compassion and promise.
I wish so badly that I could go back and tell them to keep going. I wish I could go back and tell myself that it wasn't so bad. I think of so many of the people I went to school with and most of them (even the ones often underestimated) have done well for themselves and are off living their lives. I have not forgotten those who are not.
It has also made me think a lot about the people we lost along the way. Friends who died or were killed or who made decisions that they never really recovered from. It made me think especially about the handful of people I knew who committed suicide. When we were in high school, everything mattered so much. Who you dated (or didn't), who you hung out with, what you wore, whether you were in band or drama or played sports. It was a lot of pressure and I don't think any of us really dealt all that well with it. I guess some of us were better at hiding it than others.
When I think of the young people who chose to end their life it makes me feel so sad. I felt sad at the time of course, but now, standing on the other side of things, the real sadness of those loses is greater, even if it is numbed by time. If only they could have hung on a little longer, the things that seemed so bad would have become bearable, and eventually, laughable. Now, nearly 15 years later, the cool crowd doesn't exist anymore - we are all just people with partners, and jobs and kids. Nobody cares what you wore, or what bands you listened to or whether you were cool. The cliques merged long ago and the embarrassing moments have been forgotten. The heartbreaking words, "slut", "loser", "fag" have lost some of their power and we are all a little kinder and wiser. They were so close to making it out, out into the real worlds, into their lives full of opportunity and the potential to become what they wanted. The girlfriends they thought were worth dying for would have become nothing more than a school crush and the agony of not belonging might have fueled a life full of compassion and promise.
I wish so badly that I could go back and tell them to keep going. I wish I could go back and tell myself that it wasn't so bad. I think of so many of the people I went to school with and most of them (even the ones often underestimated) have done well for themselves and are off living their lives. I have not forgotten those who are not.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Here Today, Blog Tomorrow...
I miss my blog. I miss the feeling I get when writing a post - like all my thoughts are pouring out onto the computer, leaving me cleansed and at peace. I miss the rush that would come when I hit the publish button. The sense of connection that came with each comment. I have written for many reasons over the years; to share adventures with loved ones far away, to work through muddled thoughts that weren't made clear until they were organized into words, and to entertain. I have written to record time and leave memories for myself and for Paisley and to gain insight from other web dwellers on a particular topic. For years now this blog has been an extension of myself.
Lately, I have not been writing. I have excused myself, rationalized and apologized. I have felt guilty and pressured. Tonight I am sitting here thinking, "Why?" Does my lack of blogging mean something more than I want it to? Does it reflect my quieter, far less dramatic life? Am I unable to appreciate the little humours and gifts that parenthood brings or unable to weave them into stories worth hearing?
I think the truth is that I am happier than I have ever been. Much of my writing over the years has been fueled by guilt or angst - or more often, both. I have felt compelled to write to fill some void, to address a hollowness that never left. When I think of myself not writing I feel ashamed. I know it is who I am and what I am "meant" to do and so when I am silent, I am failing. While this is still true, I feel okay about that now. Not okay about failing but okay about just being. I write every single day for work and I love it. I take pictures and sing songs and spend every waking hour with Paisley, making memories. I am proud of who I am, excited about my growing business, optimistic about life and my future, healthy, inspired and peaceful.
I no longer fear an empty page.
Lately, I have not been writing. I have excused myself, rationalized and apologized. I have felt guilty and pressured. Tonight I am sitting here thinking, "Why?" Does my lack of blogging mean something more than I want it to? Does it reflect my quieter, far less dramatic life? Am I unable to appreciate the little humours and gifts that parenthood brings or unable to weave them into stories worth hearing?
I think the truth is that I am happier than I have ever been. Much of my writing over the years has been fueled by guilt or angst - or more often, both. I have felt compelled to write to fill some void, to address a hollowness that never left. When I think of myself not writing I feel ashamed. I know it is who I am and what I am "meant" to do and so when I am silent, I am failing. While this is still true, I feel okay about that now. Not okay about failing but okay about just being. I write every single day for work and I love it. I take pictures and sing songs and spend every waking hour with Paisley, making memories. I am proud of who I am, excited about my growing business, optimistic about life and my future, healthy, inspired and peaceful.
I no longer fear an empty page.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Weighty Issues
I read this article lately and my immediate reaction was to call bullshit. I do not believe for one second that the rising rates of obesity can be blamed on genetics, and furthermore I am getting frustrated with the slow but steady normalization of fat that is happening in North America. I don't mean to be disrespectful to those who are overweight and feel sympathy for them - it is not easy to lose weight. I recognize that there are many emotional, psychological and yes, even genetic, reasons for obesity but at the end of the day, you get fat from taking in more calories than you burn.
Different people burn calories at different rates and with different levels of efficiency. People have different metabolic rates and a wide variety of intestinal flora and bacteria that can all affect how your body deals with additional calories. That being said, it is a basic law of physics that energy must be conserved. It can change forms, which is what happens when people store energy as fat, but it cannot be created. More energy in than out means you put on weight. In order to prevent this, you need to do the opposite, end of story.
I don't believe that people who are overweight or obese should be judged or treated poorly. They are people, just like anyone else and deserve the same respect. At the same time, being overweight or obese is unhealthy and I fear that this fact is being lost in all the attempts being made by society to "accept" overweight people. I am constantly seeing young girls proudly baring their overhanging midriffs and are shocked that they would be proud (and if not proud, accepting enough to show it off) of their excess weight. When did it become cool to be fat!?
I see fat kids all the time who are facing a life of inactivity, low self esteem, high blood pressure, diabetes, heart disease and stroke, and premature death. This generation is the first generation of young people who may die at an earlier age than their parents because of the epidemic of obesity. Kids have never eaten so badly and done so little physical activity and it is making them sick. It makes me feel sick too.
We need to help young people feel good about themselves, regardless of their weight, but we must not teach them to accept being overweight. It's not okay. It is not okay for them or their lives or their own kids for them to be obese. It isn't okay for any of us to be obese.
There are many reasons why we have gotten here and there are racial issues at play and big food companies and issues of poverty and education and socioeconomic class. I understand the problems with urban design and parental fear and the trouble with an overabundance of low cost, high calorie food. I know that corn is heavily subsidized and that certain people have a propensity towards being heavier. But, at the end of the day, people need to be accountable for the choices they make (and kids need to be protected from the choices their parents make) and accept responsibility for the calories they take in and the the calories they should, but do not, expend.
The Newsweek article is concerning as it perpetuates a growing myth of fiction over fat.
Different people burn calories at different rates and with different levels of efficiency. People have different metabolic rates and a wide variety of intestinal flora and bacteria that can all affect how your body deals with additional calories. That being said, it is a basic law of physics that energy must be conserved. It can change forms, which is what happens when people store energy as fat, but it cannot be created. More energy in than out means you put on weight. In order to prevent this, you need to do the opposite, end of story.
I don't believe that people who are overweight or obese should be judged or treated poorly. They are people, just like anyone else and deserve the same respect. At the same time, being overweight or obese is unhealthy and I fear that this fact is being lost in all the attempts being made by society to "accept" overweight people. I am constantly seeing young girls proudly baring their overhanging midriffs and are shocked that they would be proud (and if not proud, accepting enough to show it off) of their excess weight. When did it become cool to be fat!?
I see fat kids all the time who are facing a life of inactivity, low self esteem, high blood pressure, diabetes, heart disease and stroke, and premature death. This generation is the first generation of young people who may die at an earlier age than their parents because of the epidemic of obesity. Kids have never eaten so badly and done so little physical activity and it is making them sick. It makes me feel sick too.
We need to help young people feel good about themselves, regardless of their weight, but we must not teach them to accept being overweight. It's not okay. It is not okay for them or their lives or their own kids for them to be obese. It isn't okay for any of us to be obese.
There are many reasons why we have gotten here and there are racial issues at play and big food companies and issues of poverty and education and socioeconomic class. I understand the problems with urban design and parental fear and the trouble with an overabundance of low cost, high calorie food. I know that corn is heavily subsidized and that certain people have a propensity towards being heavier. But, at the end of the day, people need to be accountable for the choices they make (and kids need to be protected from the choices their parents make) and accept responsibility for the calories they take in and the the calories they should, but do not, expend.
The Newsweek article is concerning as it perpetuates a growing myth of fiction over fat.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Juggling. Badly.
I've never set out to be an overachiever or a supermom but I do have high expectations of myself and like to stay busy. I'm good at multi tasking and time management and so I manage to always have a clean house and a home cooked meal and a (fairly) clean kid. Sometimes I am almost embarrassed to tell people what I've been up to because I see the look on their face. "Oh. You're one of those." Well, I'm not. Not on the inside anyway.
Lately I feel like I have a hundred things on the go and I can't satisfy myself with my performance in any area. I can't do everything. I have been making an effort to do mostly whole foods cooking. We got rid of all processed foods quite a while ago but I sometimes still used store bought pasta or flavoured yogourt. Now I'm flavouring the yogourt, making everything from scratch and as of next week, making our bread. I'm even planning on canning homemade ketchup and salsa. I love it and it has produced some amazing meals (and one curdled lemon tart) but it is very time-consuming and gets eaten just as quickly as the stuff that took me half the time.
I am working out like a fiend and have lost ten pounds in the last month. I am in a bootcamp on Mondays, a BOSU class on Thursdays and working out 4 days a week plus running. I love this also and can honestly say that I don't think I have been this fit since high school.
I am working a lot. I have a magazine article on the go right now (affiliate marketing...snooze), a dozen press releases and a whole website to write. I am running two blogs and trying to get some fiction work and other freelance work squeezed in there and I'm struggling. I am also now on the marketing committee for the Africa Book Project and have a ton of work through them. I (in my stupidity?) also signed up as the volunteer resume critic for the local Women's Immigration Society. This stuff alone could be a full time job.
I'm even behind in my reading of Infinite Jest - something that is supposed to a relaxing pursuit and I'm feeling stressed about it.
Getting together with girlfriends during the week and making sure that Paisley gets one fun activity (at least) a day are also high on my list of priorities but I feel like I'm starting to stumble around aimlessly, blinded and sagged by a heavy load. Each day something gives - I either don't get as much work done as I should, or the house doesn't get cleaned, or I don't get out or the dinner is lacklustre. I need to get to a place where I can just accept that and not feel like a failure every time. I have a to do list as long as my arm and not enough items lined out. Never enough lined out.
I have always thrived under stress and schedule and so I tend to place those on myself with rigour. Maybe I'll schedule in a deep breathing exercise once a day from 11:03 to 11:07 am. Perfect.
Lately I feel like I have a hundred things on the go and I can't satisfy myself with my performance in any area. I can't do everything. I have been making an effort to do mostly whole foods cooking. We got rid of all processed foods quite a while ago but I sometimes still used store bought pasta or flavoured yogourt. Now I'm flavouring the yogourt, making everything from scratch and as of next week, making our bread. I'm even planning on canning homemade ketchup and salsa. I love it and it has produced some amazing meals (and one curdled lemon tart) but it is very time-consuming and gets eaten just as quickly as the stuff that took me half the time.
I am working out like a fiend and have lost ten pounds in the last month. I am in a bootcamp on Mondays, a BOSU class on Thursdays and working out 4 days a week plus running. I love this also and can honestly say that I don't think I have been this fit since high school.
I am working a lot. I have a magazine article on the go right now (affiliate marketing...snooze), a dozen press releases and a whole website to write. I am running two blogs and trying to get some fiction work and other freelance work squeezed in there and I'm struggling. I am also now on the marketing committee for the Africa Book Project and have a ton of work through them. I (in my stupidity?) also signed up as the volunteer resume critic for the local Women's Immigration Society. This stuff alone could be a full time job.
I'm even behind in my reading of Infinite Jest - something that is supposed to a relaxing pursuit and I'm feeling stressed about it.
Getting together with girlfriends during the week and making sure that Paisley gets one fun activity (at least) a day are also high on my list of priorities but I feel like I'm starting to stumble around aimlessly, blinded and sagged by a heavy load. Each day something gives - I either don't get as much work done as I should, or the house doesn't get cleaned, or I don't get out or the dinner is lacklustre. I need to get to a place where I can just accept that and not feel like a failure every time. I have a to do list as long as my arm and not enough items lined out. Never enough lined out.
I have always thrived under stress and schedule and so I tend to place those on myself with rigour. Maybe I'll schedule in a deep breathing exercise once a day from 11:03 to 11:07 am. Perfect.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
The Blogosphere
Jen recently wrote about her struggles with the state of the blogosphere and the status of her own blog within that community. I too have struggled with this recently. Since becoming a Mom I have less time, and lets face it, less interest in blogging. I feel like I have less to say that would interest people. It was easy when I was travelling and I had some weird and wacky adventure every week. It was easier when I had hours to devote a post so that I could work on it and get it just right. Now I am forced to quickly bang out blog posts and they aren't well written. I don't even re-read them before I publish. They could be so much better but I just don't have the time. To make matters worse, I have another blog which I have been spending far more time on and this one has sort of faded into the background. It is read by family and young people and so I am more guarded. I read some other blogs and I feel ashamed that theirs are so good and mine is so weak. I have never benefited socially from blogging like Jen or so many other women bloggers and I have maintained it out of a sense of duty. Duty to what few readers I have and most of all, to Paisley. Her monthly newsletters are what keep this blog going at this point.
I am out of adventure and angst. I have no major decisions facing me and my existence is pleasant, if boring. Not great blogging material. I do not want to be a "mommy blogger" and my writing work is all covered by non-disclosure agreements so I can't really venture there. (Although, let me tell you - there is some crazy shit going on in the world of marketing!)
Despite all of this, I just can't do it. I can't bring myself to pull the plug - not yet any way.
I am out of adventure and angst. I have no major decisions facing me and my existence is pleasant, if boring. Not great blogging material. I do not want to be a "mommy blogger" and my writing work is all covered by non-disclosure agreements so I can't really venture there. (Although, let me tell you - there is some crazy shit going on in the world of marketing!)
Despite all of this, I just can't do it. I can't bring myself to pull the plug - not yet any way.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Mi Casa es Donde?
The subject of where we should live is a popular one in our house. At least once a week one of us will launch into a verbal daydream of life in Vancouver, Sydney, California, France etc. and the other one will enthusiastically join in. That is the problem I suppose with having done a lot of traveling - it makes you realize that you could live anywhere. We have both always made a point of not living our lives by default. A lot of people just sort of end up where they are and we don't want that to happen to us. We want it to be a choice - the result of a lot of thought and consideration. Having said that, there are sometimes so many factors to consider that it becomes overwhelming.
We chose Calgary initially because we thought it would be nice to be near our families again after living away for so long. From that perspective Calgary has been wonderful and now that we have a child it is even more important. Having said that, Calgary falls short in almost every other category we consider important. It's not hot enough, it lacks culture and diversity and a certain warmth. The politics drive us crazy and we will never really get the chance to know what it feels like to vote for a winning party. The city council is short-sighted. There is no decent recycling program and our economy is based on oil&gas which has obvious environmental complications. The best things about Calgary are proximity to the mountains, the fact that we can get out of the city really quickly and the friends and family we have here. All of them important things to consider.
The place we envision is warm, full of fresh food markets, arts districts, vital cultural communities, forward thinking urban planners and government, and alive. The problem is that Brian's chosen field limits us somewhat and so does our desire to stay close to family. If we won the lottery tomorrow we would move to New York city - we both love it there so much and although we know it isn't warm it so easily meets all the other criteria that we are willing to overlook that. But New York is not where our family is and it wouldn't take long for us to miss them and our weekly trips to the mountains. Brian wants to move to France but that's pretty far away and France has its own host of issues. We've also considered Vancouver and Montreal but always end up putting off the decision for another day.
It's so hard to know where to live and I wish you could go somewhere for 6 months at a time and try it on for size. I also wish you could pack up your loved ones and bring them along for the ride.
We chose Calgary initially because we thought it would be nice to be near our families again after living away for so long. From that perspective Calgary has been wonderful and now that we have a child it is even more important. Having said that, Calgary falls short in almost every other category we consider important. It's not hot enough, it lacks culture and diversity and a certain warmth. The politics drive us crazy and we will never really get the chance to know what it feels like to vote for a winning party. The city council is short-sighted. There is no decent recycling program and our economy is based on oil&gas which has obvious environmental complications. The best things about Calgary are proximity to the mountains, the fact that we can get out of the city really quickly and the friends and family we have here. All of them important things to consider.
The place we envision is warm, full of fresh food markets, arts districts, vital cultural communities, forward thinking urban planners and government, and alive. The problem is that Brian's chosen field limits us somewhat and so does our desire to stay close to family. If we won the lottery tomorrow we would move to New York city - we both love it there so much and although we know it isn't warm it so easily meets all the other criteria that we are willing to overlook that. But New York is not where our family is and it wouldn't take long for us to miss them and our weekly trips to the mountains. Brian wants to move to France but that's pretty far away and France has its own host of issues. We've also considered Vancouver and Montreal but always end up putting off the decision for another day.
It's so hard to know where to live and I wish you could go somewhere for 6 months at a time and try it on for size. I also wish you could pack up your loved ones and bring them along for the ride.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Four Years...
These are the roses that showed up at my house yesterday. Today is our 4th wedding anniversary and I can't help but feel reflective. Marriage is a complicated, and often difficult, but more often wonderful, thing that us humans enter into. I am not someone who believes that marriage is for everyone and neither am I someone who spent my younger years dreaming of my wedding. Having said that I still think it is the best thing I ever did. For me marriage is about friendship, patience, growth, support and the profound opportunity to be a witness to another person's life. It is about sharing all the good and all the bad with someone else so that when all is said and done, there is an account of your existence. Marriage is unique in that it is the only opportunity you will ever have to choose your family. Parents, siblings, children - they are all genetically predetermined, but a spouse is a choice and that makes it both special and terrifying.
I will admit that there have been days (the bulk of them occurring post-baby) where I have questioned marriage - my own and the practice more generally. It is hard sometimes and annoying to have to take someone else into consideration all the time. It would be nice to do what I wanted, when I wanted and think only of myself. There are days when I miss living on my own. But like anything in life, there are the other days. The mornings in bed where I am warm and cuddled and in love and the sun is shining in the window and I get to plan a day with my very best friend. The days when I feel frustrated and I have someone there to make me feel better. The knowledge that I have chosen, and been chosen, to be a part of something that lasts for the rest of our lives. Those days both outnumber and outweigh the days where I'm not as convinced. And for that I feel lucky.
Thank you Brian for being so funny, smart, patient, kind and generous. And for always putting the toilet seat down. I love you with all of my heart.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Shrink Wrapped
This NYT article on the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder in children really got to me. The kids described in the piece seemed so tortured and lost. I felt for their parents who must be totally overwhelmed and of course for the kids themselves who are trapped inside their own minds. Bipolar disorder, and all kinds of other mental illness and psycho-social disorders, have always intrigued me. I studied them a lot in my Neuroscience degree and have known enough people suffering from depression, bipolar etc. to know what these diseases can do to people's lives. At the same time, I worry about how often they are misdiagnosed and the ease with which so many doctors prescribe an antidepressant and send on you your way. There is no blood test or swab that will detect borderline personality disorder - it involves taking a history(the patients and their family's), a lot of self-reporting and some guess work. Sometimes it works, and I have seen people get well and thrive. Sometimes it doesn't.
When I was in my mid-twenties I was having a hard time. I felt overwhelmed by my emotions and I would often feel like there was a train running through my skull. This "train" of thoughts was so fast that I couldn't grab onto anything or verbalize what I was thinking. It was confusing and frustrating. Sometimes I felt so sad I would just sit in the bath tub for hours, crying. I felt alone and misunderstood and scared. I would go through bouts of joy where I felt like I was the coolest girl around. Other nights I would feel like a fraud. A failure at life. I would write long, agonizing poems about death and the futility of it all. Eventually, after many, many months of this I sought help. I went to a shrink. She asked me all kinds of questions about my family and my own life. It felt good to talk and have someone really listen to me. She diagnosed me with depression and gave me a prescription for Prozac. I made an appointment for the following week. The next week I sat down in her office again and low and behold if she didn't start asking me exactly the same questions she had asked the week before. At first I thought that maybe she thought I was some kind of compulsive liar and was fact-checking but soon realized that no, she had merely forgotten that she ever met me. It was the weirdest feeling. I never went back to her but I did keep taking the Prozac. I figured even if she was crazy, she was probably right about the depression and they might work. In the meantime, my family doctor had prescribed me Zyban (which is also known as Wellbutrin) and although I mentioned the Prozac she didn't make note of it. The combination of those two drugs put me in hospital with some kind of seizure. I stopped both drugs but suffered from anxiety after that episode that would take years to go away.
About 6 months later, when the anxiety still hadn't lessened and I was still struggling I decided to seek help again. I went to the Alberta Mental Health Services and they made me an appointment with a psychiatrist. We sat down and talked for a long time. He was such a nice man. He asked me if I ever went shopping. I loved to shop but as a student didn't have a lot of money. I told him about how I would go and buy all kinds of nice things and then just return them the following week. He asked about my childhood, asked if I ever felt moody and I said yes. I remember drawing him a picture of how I felt - exaggerated ups and downs. He wrote a long letter (which I still have) diagnosing me with Bipolar Disorder. He wanted to try me on lithium. I never went back to see him either.
I do not have Bipolar Disorder and I doubt that I even had depression. Everyone was so quick to label me, to diagnose me, that they never asked enough questions. As soon as I came off birth control pills (which my doctor put me on to regulate my cycle - another approach I take real issue with now) my pendulum-like emotions evened out. I got out of a bad relationship and stopped partying. I went to bed at regular hours and started exercising. I ate better. All of a sudden, after years of feeling horrible, I felt in control again. I felt strong and capable and drug-free. I have always been incredibly sensitive to hormones and so I've stayed away from the birth control pill ever since then. I wish I could go back to that nice doctor. As a man I'm sure it never even occurred to him that hormones (that in effect were fighting against the rhythm of my own natural hormones) could simulate the same highs and lows as Bipolar. Or that most 21-year-old girls love to shop. Or that as a particularly sensitive person, I had always worried about things that were out of my control or felt overwhelmed by how big the world was. I didn't tell wild stories because I was in a manic phase, I did it because I was a wild story-teller since birth. I wish I could go back and tell him to think twice the next time he prescribes someone lithium after one meeting - I mean, really! What would have happened if I had filled that prescription too? I don't really even want to know.
This story illustrates one of the problems with diagnosing mental illness but I do not for one minute think it turns out this way for everyone. Some people really do have Bipolar, or Depression or Schizophrenia etc. (There are some disorders that I do take issue with, namely PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder) since I witnessed its very creation shortly after the American Prozac patent expired and they needed to re-name it and re-brand it. Voila! A new drug for a new illness.) These people need kind, sensitive, professional care, not quick fixes. They need to be truly evaluated and any medications need to be part of an overall plan and should be monitored. It is alarming to think of what might have happened if I really did have depression or BPD and was left to monitor my own drugs, and just as alarming to consider what could have become of me had I stayed within the mental health system.
Just some of my own experiences and thoughts on what is always an emotional and complicated subject.
When I was in my mid-twenties I was having a hard time. I felt overwhelmed by my emotions and I would often feel like there was a train running through my skull. This "train" of thoughts was so fast that I couldn't grab onto anything or verbalize what I was thinking. It was confusing and frustrating. Sometimes I felt so sad I would just sit in the bath tub for hours, crying. I felt alone and misunderstood and scared. I would go through bouts of joy where I felt like I was the coolest girl around. Other nights I would feel like a fraud. A failure at life. I would write long, agonizing poems about death and the futility of it all. Eventually, after many, many months of this I sought help. I went to a shrink. She asked me all kinds of questions about my family and my own life. It felt good to talk and have someone really listen to me. She diagnosed me with depression and gave me a prescription for Prozac. I made an appointment for the following week. The next week I sat down in her office again and low and behold if she didn't start asking me exactly the same questions she had asked the week before. At first I thought that maybe she thought I was some kind of compulsive liar and was fact-checking but soon realized that no, she had merely forgotten that she ever met me. It was the weirdest feeling. I never went back to her but I did keep taking the Prozac. I figured even if she was crazy, she was probably right about the depression and they might work. In the meantime, my family doctor had prescribed me Zyban (which is also known as Wellbutrin) and although I mentioned the Prozac she didn't make note of it. The combination of those two drugs put me in hospital with some kind of seizure. I stopped both drugs but suffered from anxiety after that episode that would take years to go away.
About 6 months later, when the anxiety still hadn't lessened and I was still struggling I decided to seek help again. I went to the Alberta Mental Health Services and they made me an appointment with a psychiatrist. We sat down and talked for a long time. He was such a nice man. He asked me if I ever went shopping. I loved to shop but as a student didn't have a lot of money. I told him about how I would go and buy all kinds of nice things and then just return them the following week. He asked about my childhood, asked if I ever felt moody and I said yes. I remember drawing him a picture of how I felt - exaggerated ups and downs. He wrote a long letter (which I still have) diagnosing me with Bipolar Disorder. He wanted to try me on lithium. I never went back to see him either.
I do not have Bipolar Disorder and I doubt that I even had depression. Everyone was so quick to label me, to diagnose me, that they never asked enough questions. As soon as I came off birth control pills (which my doctor put me on to regulate my cycle - another approach I take real issue with now) my pendulum-like emotions evened out. I got out of a bad relationship and stopped partying. I went to bed at regular hours and started exercising. I ate better. All of a sudden, after years of feeling horrible, I felt in control again. I felt strong and capable and drug-free. I have always been incredibly sensitive to hormones and so I've stayed away from the birth control pill ever since then. I wish I could go back to that nice doctor. As a man I'm sure it never even occurred to him that hormones (that in effect were fighting against the rhythm of my own natural hormones) could simulate the same highs and lows as Bipolar. Or that most 21-year-old girls love to shop. Or that as a particularly sensitive person, I had always worried about things that were out of my control or felt overwhelmed by how big the world was. I didn't tell wild stories because I was in a manic phase, I did it because I was a wild story-teller since birth. I wish I could go back and tell him to think twice the next time he prescribes someone lithium after one meeting - I mean, really! What would have happened if I had filled that prescription too? I don't really even want to know.
This story illustrates one of the problems with diagnosing mental illness but I do not for one minute think it turns out this way for everyone. Some people really do have Bipolar, or Depression or Schizophrenia etc. (There are some disorders that I do take issue with, namely PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder) since I witnessed its very creation shortly after the American Prozac patent expired and they needed to re-name it and re-brand it. Voila! A new drug for a new illness.) These people need kind, sensitive, professional care, not quick fixes. They need to be truly evaluated and any medications need to be part of an overall plan and should be monitored. It is alarming to think of what might have happened if I really did have depression or BPD and was left to monitor my own drugs, and just as alarming to consider what could have become of me had I stayed within the mental health system.
Just some of my own experiences and thoughts on what is always an emotional and complicated subject.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Punctuated Equilbrium
I am just finishing Lynn Truss' book Eats, Shoots & Leaves and I have really enjoyed it. What I have enjoyed most is the vindication I feel. All my life I have struggled with the idea of punctuation and quotation marks. When I was young it made me avoid dialogue entirely. I remember in the seventh grade I wrote a 22 page story (the assignment called for three) and never wrote a single line of dialogue. This technique worked but not for long. It is very hard to avoid using quote marks in journalistic writing. I was forever struggling with this, which was weird because I've always been good with all other aspects of grammar and spelling. To me, the punctuation should go outside the quotes when it ends the whole sentence and within if it ends the quote.
Why did she say "you'll never see me again"?
Nobody heard her yell "Where are you?"
(That last example still bugs me because the sentence doesn't have en end punctuation. It needs a period but it looks crazy next to the ? in the quotes. Arrgghhh.)
Anyway, at least part of my dilemma has been solved. My friend in j-school used to say, "What's so hard? All punctuation goes inside the quotes!" but that is not entirely true. That is only true in America. In the UK the same hard and fast rule doesn't exist and they are far more flexible with their approach. Being that Canada adheres to many, but not all of, British language conventions I am still not entirely sure where we stand. I am relieved to know however, that my confusion comes from somewhere other than my own mind.
Why did she say "you'll never see me again"?
Nobody heard her yell "Where are you?"
(That last example still bugs me because the sentence doesn't have en end punctuation. It needs a period but it looks crazy next to the ? in the quotes. Arrgghhh.)
Anyway, at least part of my dilemma has been solved. My friend in j-school used to say, "What's so hard? All punctuation goes inside the quotes!" but that is not entirely true. That is only true in America. In the UK the same hard and fast rule doesn't exist and they are far more flexible with their approach. Being that Canada adheres to many, but not all of, British language conventions I am still not entirely sure where we stand. I am relieved to know however, that my confusion comes from somewhere other than my own mind.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Alberta: Stuck in a Rut
The Alberta government is currently developing a new license plate that is set to be releases in 2009. I have been following this story ever since I found out about it and participated in the survey for the new plate. I was asked what images, if any, I would like to see, what colours etc. I was very clear that the only images I didn't want to see on the plate was oil rigs or cowboys. We'll see if I get my way.
Slogans were another issue on the survey. Currently it is "Wild Rose Country" which I have to admit, is a little lame. The front runner right now is "Strong and Free". If that's the slogan I think I might just have to remove my vehicle from the road in protest. I hate that slogan! First of all, it doesn't make any sense. Strong? How? How are we stronger or weaker than any other province? Free? That's the really annoying part. Free from what exactly. We live in a democratic nation - we are all free. It smacks of the Alberta separation movement and sounds a bit American. "Strong and free" are words found in their national anthem, on many license plates and in the Declaration of Independence. Surely we could come up with something a little less inflammatory...a median must exist between a wimpy pink flower and a manifesto.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
An Order of Evil...Served Hot
"So, did you hear? My boyfriend is receiving the order of Canada?"
"Morgentaler is your boyfriend?"
"No. Peter. The hottest guy on TV next to Ian Hanomansing."
"Oh. Well congratulations, I guess."
So go the conversations around out house. In all seriousness, I'm pretty proud of Peter for this accomplishment and just as happy that Morgentaler is receiving the same award. On the radio this morning I heard an excerpt from Henry Morgentaler's reaction speech and he said "I deserve this award. It's about time that my accomplishments were recognized." I loved that. Fake humility is so overdone and really, so unnecessary. If you win a huge award for a lifetime of achievement you better think you deserve it, or someone might reconsider.
I remember being told my a Catholic man I used to know that you could see the devil in Morgentaler's eyes. Well, I guess the devil just received the Order of Canada.
"Morgentaler is your boyfriend?"
"No. Peter. The hottest guy on TV next to Ian Hanomansing."
"Oh. Well congratulations, I guess."
So go the conversations around out house. In all seriousness, I'm pretty proud of Peter for this accomplishment and just as happy that Morgentaler is receiving the same award. On the radio this morning I heard an excerpt from Henry Morgentaler's reaction speech and he said "I deserve this award. It's about time that my accomplishments were recognized." I loved that. Fake humility is so overdone and really, so unnecessary. If you win a huge award for a lifetime of achievement you better think you deserve it, or someone might reconsider.
I remember being told my a Catholic man I used to know that you could see the devil in Morgentaler's eyes. Well, I guess the devil just received the Order of Canada.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Parallel Universe?
We went to Montana last weekend to visit our nieces and do some cross-border shopping (read: bought Kalispell's entire stock of gdiaper liners) and had a nice visit. That area of Montana is very pretty and rugged and so completely different from Alberta that it's weird. I mean, they are only separated by a barely-patrolled border and very little distance and yet it's like an alternate universe down there. I don't know quite what it is but it feels different. The buildings are different and the streets are different and the radio stations are WAY different.
America is a weird and wonderful country. I have spent a fair amount of time there in many different states (18 at last count!) and of course, Brian has lived there for years at different points in his life. And between the two of us we still struggle to understand the place. It annoys him that he doesn't have a better grasp of who and what the country is and it perplexes us to the point of frustration. We know so many Americans who have similar political/religious views as us and who are like any other Canadians or Europeans we might know. But the country, the way it thinks, votes, prays and behaves does not seem to reflect the people we know. Who are those people who put bumper stickers of the ten commandments on their truck? Who believe that American soldiers are being killed by Iranians and that it sounds like a good idea to build a fence between the US and Mexico? Who still think Saddam had something to do with 9-11? Who are the people who watch and worse yet, believe, Fox news? Who think abstinence is the only sexual education that should be taught in schools and who know so little about the world outside of America? I have wanted to dismiss these people in the past as a fringe group, as right-wing nuts, but they are not easily dismissed. Based on the last two elections I can only assume they make up the majority.
Brian and I spend a lot of our time wondering about these things, especially when we are visiting our neighbours to the south. American policies and attitudes often reveal a shocking ignorance of the world outside of its borders. Many really buy into the idea that America has much to teach other countries and nothing to learn. They believe that America is democratic and righteous and envied by the rest of the world. We've considered the education system as a possible culprit but we know too many smart and well-educated people from the States. America produces some of the sharpest minds in the world and has contributed positively to our social and technical advancement is so many ways. Is it its Puritan beginnings or lack of independent media? I haven't a clue. So, if anyone can shed some light on this issue I would be grateful.
America is a weird and wonderful country. I have spent a fair amount of time there in many different states (18 at last count!) and of course, Brian has lived there for years at different points in his life. And between the two of us we still struggle to understand the place. It annoys him that he doesn't have a better grasp of who and what the country is and it perplexes us to the point of frustration. We know so many Americans who have similar political/religious views as us and who are like any other Canadians or Europeans we might know. But the country, the way it thinks, votes, prays and behaves does not seem to reflect the people we know. Who are those people who put bumper stickers of the ten commandments on their truck? Who believe that American soldiers are being killed by Iranians and that it sounds like a good idea to build a fence between the US and Mexico? Who still think Saddam had something to do with 9-11? Who are the people who watch and worse yet, believe, Fox news? Who think abstinence is the only sexual education that should be taught in schools and who know so little about the world outside of America? I have wanted to dismiss these people in the past as a fringe group, as right-wing nuts, but they are not easily dismissed. Based on the last two elections I can only assume they make up the majority.
Brian and I spend a lot of our time wondering about these things, especially when we are visiting our neighbours to the south. American policies and attitudes often reveal a shocking ignorance of the world outside of its borders. Many really buy into the idea that America has much to teach other countries and nothing to learn. They believe that America is democratic and righteous and envied by the rest of the world. We've considered the education system as a possible culprit but we know too many smart and well-educated people from the States. America produces some of the sharpest minds in the world and has contributed positively to our social and technical advancement is so many ways. Is it its Puritan beginnings or lack of independent media? I haven't a clue. So, if anyone can shed some light on this issue I would be grateful.
Monday, May 19, 2008
This Moment
Living in the moment is something we probably all aspire to. I find it hard to so sometimes - there is always an upcoming adventure or event or stage to reach. I remember in high school I always thought my real life would start in university. And then in university I believed it would start after I graduated. Then I went to grad school, and that became the barrier between me and my reality. Then it was getting married. I think that is why I had such a hard time with turning 29. I knew then that school (for the time being anyway) was complete. I was married, owned a house and would be living in Calgary for the foreseeable future. This is my real life. It wasn't so much that I didn't like it but that the arrival was for some reason unforeseen and a little anticlimactic.
This morning I woke up to a slight breeze blowing in the window...it carried with it that indescribable smell of summer. Paisley was sound asleep next to me. Brian was up and painting and I could hear his music. Saturday's Globe and Mail lay next to the bed, ready to be devoured and I could already smell the pot of coffee I was about to put on. It was so perfect that it made me hold my breath for just a second. A moment I wish I could live in for a little longer.
This morning I woke up to a slight breeze blowing in the window...it carried with it that indescribable smell of summer. Paisley was sound asleep next to me. Brian was up and painting and I could hear his music. Saturday's Globe and Mail lay next to the bed, ready to be devoured and I could already smell the pot of coffee I was about to put on. It was so perfect that it made me hold my breath for just a second. A moment I wish I could live in for a little longer.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Me and Thelma and Louise
Today, all day, I felt a need to escape. I don't really know where to or what I would do when I got there but for the last few days I have been feeling so stuck. I look out the window and see the same empty parking lot every day and the houses full of people we still don't know. Nobody in our neighborhood (and I use that term loosely) seems to spend any time outside, except for the man across the street who walks the garbage to the dumpster in bare feet. Even in winter. I drive the same roads weekly to go to the same grocery store and buy the same food. I cook the same meals and wear the same clothes and sleep in the same bed. I wake up in the morning and I do it all over again. I can't help but think that right now, at this very moment, there are people living amazing and exciting lives in Dubai, Paris, New York and Tokyo and I am, here in Ranchlands doing, well, let's face it - a whole lot of nothing.
It's my fault that I feel this way. I have all kinds of things I could and should be doing and I feel like I just never get around to it. Some of it is because I'm often spending time with Paisley but if I am honest with myself, it is more that that. It's the way I've always been - full of grandiose ideas and plans and shy on motivation and self-discipline. I have a website to work on but have found myself tragically short on talent, knowledge and time. I have a baby book to work on and of course, writing. So much writing that never gets written. I am supposed to run 5 times a week and I don't. I was going to start to cook all kinds of ethnic and adventurous foods in my kitchen. I wanted to spend time learning more about photography. I have foreign languages to conquer and books to read. I have places to go and a person that I am supposed to be.
I am terrified. I am scared that this is it and I am going to wake up in ten years and my most recent trip will have been a cruise to Disneyland rather than an overland adventure through Argentina. I am scared that all the stories and books I want to write will remain unwritten and that my life will consist of the same grocery stores, the same rooms and roads and quiet evenings and all that will change is the view outside my window.
It's my fault that I feel this way. I have all kinds of things I could and should be doing and I feel like I just never get around to it. Some of it is because I'm often spending time with Paisley but if I am honest with myself, it is more that that. It's the way I've always been - full of grandiose ideas and plans and shy on motivation and self-discipline. I have a website to work on but have found myself tragically short on talent, knowledge and time. I have a baby book to work on and of course, writing. So much writing that never gets written. I am supposed to run 5 times a week and I don't. I was going to start to cook all kinds of ethnic and adventurous foods in my kitchen. I wanted to spend time learning more about photography. I have foreign languages to conquer and books to read. I have places to go and a person that I am supposed to be.
I am terrified. I am scared that this is it and I am going to wake up in ten years and my most recent trip will have been a cruise to Disneyland rather than an overland adventure through Argentina. I am scared that all the stories and books I want to write will remain unwritten and that my life will consist of the same grocery stores, the same rooms and roads and quiet evenings and all that will change is the view outside my window.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
The Magi
I find Calgary a soulless place at times...everyone seems in a rush to be somewhere (someone) else and they don't seem to stop for one another. I've heard that it didn't used to be this way and I know that for many long time Calgarians they have found the change difficult and frustrating. Today I was in the mall and an older woman was standing in front of me. The minute I got behind her in line (with an awesome new Christmas dress in my hands incidentally) she struck up a conversation. This struck me as odd because typically I find malls to be an exaggerated version of all things wrong with the world and that day in particularly had confirmed it for me. Three people had cut me off in the parking lot while I was trying to park. At one point two people in front of me got out of their cars and started yelling at each other violently over who had started signaling first. So, when this lovely little lady was so warm and kind I guess it sort of caught me off guard. The little lady was holding a beautiful pair of red velvet pyjamas with gold trim (Jones New York $75...I'm such a snoop) and was telling me that her brother in law was in hospital with heart problems. The woman was from India and I had to laugh as I imagined some little Indian man wearing these women's red pyjamas in his hospital bed. I started telling her about the Heart & Stroke Foundation and how she could get further information on pacemakers and heart surgery and she seemed very happy to be talking. That is when she pulled a crumpled page from her coat pocket and unfolded it to show me the very pyjamas she was holding. "My brother-in-law saw these beautiful pyjamas in the flyer and before he went to the hospital he made me promise to get them" she said. "These exact ones. That is why I am here." I smiled and nodded and told her that it was nice of her to do that for him. "He was very worried that I would not be able to find them," she said, "and he wanted to make sure that his wife got these exact pyjamas in case he does not make it through his surgery." The moment she said this, my heart sort of stopped. Tears sprang to my eyes immediately - I thought it was the most romantic thing I had ever heard. This man, who is in his late 70's, is facing major surgery and worried he might die and his greatest concern is that his wife be left with the most beautiful, expensive velvet pyjamas.
These are the stories we miss when we stop listening...when we stop stopping. These little pieces of lives and loves, the very things that make it all worthwhile. Meeting this woman in the line up and hearing the story of an older couple who I do not know was the highlight of my day. Her story filled my heart with love and hope for the little man, who I hope gets better, and his wife who will be wearing her beautiful red pyjamas.
These are the stories we miss when we stop listening...when we stop stopping. These little pieces of lives and loves, the very things that make it all worthwhile. Meeting this woman in the line up and hearing the story of an older couple who I do not know was the highlight of my day. Her story filled my heart with love and hope for the little man, who I hope gets better, and his wife who will be wearing her beautiful red pyjamas.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Power of the Belly
I've heard a lot of pregnant women complain about people touching their belly and I must admit that I myself have marveled at the audacity at some people but I have to say that I feel differently now that I am here and it is happening. I think it's wonderful. After having traveled and lived in other countries around the world I have witnessed time and time again how socially isolated we are in North America. We are protective of our personal space to the point of compulsion and it always makes me feel a little sad. There was a part of me that loved standing shoulder to shoulder with someone on the bus in Korea, feeling the warmth of their body and knowing that the other person wasn't the least bit uncomfortable. I've seen people here calculate, methodically, how to best separate themselves from the other passengers on a train or a bus. Why? What have we gained by having no contact with strangers, no human intersections beyond those we seek out?
A pregnant belly breaks through all those barriers and social rules and penetrates the invisible social bubble that we all live under. The idea that the baby is coming into a world where complete strangers want to look at it and touch it and care for it brings me comfort because that's exactly how it should be. Babies should be welcomed into a community that extends beyond their immediate family and loved and cared for by the village, so to speak.
When people, even strangers, touch my tummy it feels nice. Their hand is warm and they are almost always smiling...waiting to feel her move. And when they do they are excited and happy and I feel like I'm a part of something bigger. I find it amazing that babies and more specifically, the baby in my tummy, has the incredibly powerful ability to break down social barriers, make friends out of strangers and connect people in time who otherwise would have walked right past each other.
A pregnant belly breaks through all those barriers and social rules and penetrates the invisible social bubble that we all live under. The idea that the baby is coming into a world where complete strangers want to look at it and touch it and care for it brings me comfort because that's exactly how it should be. Babies should be welcomed into a community that extends beyond their immediate family and loved and cared for by the village, so to speak.
When people, even strangers, touch my tummy it feels nice. Their hand is warm and they are almost always smiling...waiting to feel her move. And when they do they are excited and happy and I feel like I'm a part of something bigger. I find it amazing that babies and more specifically, the baby in my tummy, has the incredibly powerful ability to break down social barriers, make friends out of strangers and connect people in time who otherwise would have walked right past each other.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Beginnings...
With each week that passes my pregnant state becomes more and more obvious to myself as well as the rest of the world, and I am often left feeling overwhelmed and like this isn't real. There isn't really a person growing inside me is there? When you stop and think about it, about the cells dividing and the nutrients moving from my body into hers it becomes too much to comprehend. Too big, and yet, so normal.
I have felt so many emotions over the past few months and I often find myself checking in with my own head, "How are we doing?" You still okay with this?" Mostly, the answer is yes but I would be lying if I said there weren't days where I am panicked and terrified and want to hit the eject button. I feel fat and vulnerable and totally unprepared to become a mother. I liked the life that Brian and I had made for ourselves. I liked going for drinks on Friday's and sleeping in and going out for late-night meals. I liked knowing that we had a team of two to take on the world and planning our next vacation to a far away place. I'm scared to lose all of that.
At some level I know that we will gain so much more and that Brian and I will always be a team. It's the awkward stage in between where you can imagine all the things you love being gone but it is still too abstract to really envision what is to come. I know I'm pregnant, I feel the baby kicking and I am steadily preparing for her arrival but I still cannot really picture her or what my days will consist of. I am taking a giant leap into the unknown. I suppose, if she could, our baby would feel very much the same way.
I have felt so many emotions over the past few months and I often find myself checking in with my own head, "How are we doing?" You still okay with this?" Mostly, the answer is yes but I would be lying if I said there weren't days where I am panicked and terrified and want to hit the eject button. I feel fat and vulnerable and totally unprepared to become a mother. I liked the life that Brian and I had made for ourselves. I liked going for drinks on Friday's and sleeping in and going out for late-night meals. I liked knowing that we had a team of two to take on the world and planning our next vacation to a far away place. I'm scared to lose all of that.
At some level I know that we will gain so much more and that Brian and I will always be a team. It's the awkward stage in between where you can imagine all the things you love being gone but it is still too abstract to really envision what is to come. I know I'm pregnant, I feel the baby kicking and I am steadily preparing for her arrival but I still cannot really picture her or what my days will consist of. I am taking a giant leap into the unknown. I suppose, if she could, our baby would feel very much the same way.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Response to Freestar Media
My recent letter to this guy who is making a movie about the horrors of the Canadian health care system. He requested true Canadian health stories...how much do you want to bet that mine won't make the cut?
Sometimes I just get so mad about this issue...our system is not perfect but just last week I had a flu shot, a blood test, a visit to my ob/gyn, a visit to the endocrinologist and an electrocardiogram of my baby's heart - all for free. And you know the best part? Anyone living in this country would have access to the same thing - and that just feels right.
Hi,
I recently received an email about the movie you are making (Sick and Sicker) and wanted to write in with my true Canadian health care story. I am an otherwise healthy 29-year-old woman and was recently found to have Type 1 diabetes. It was a real shock and I was scared for my health and of course, for the quality of my life in the future. Within weeks of my diagnosis I was seen by an endocrinologist. When I mentioned to her that my husband and I were interested in starting a family I was moved to the Diabetes in Pregnancy clinic here in Calgary. I had an appointment within a week and was given my own nutritionist to help teach me about food choices, carbohydrate counting and prenatal nutrition. I had a diabetes education nurse who helped to get me on insulin and supplied me, free of charge, with my insulin pens. She calls me every week to go over my blood sugar numbers. I also see an endocrinologist who has been absolutely phenomenal and who is very up to date on what is going on around the world in diabetes research. When we struggled to get pregnant we were referred to a fertility specialist and I had an appointment in less than a week. They provided me with hormone supplements and free ultrasounds to monitor my pregnancy.
I am now over 5 months pregnant, educated about diabetes and healthy. My sugars have been well controlled - through my efforts and through the efforts of my "team". Aside from prescriptions I haven't paid for a thing...I have spoken with friends in America who have paid thousands of dollars for the kind of care I received. I did not wait and I have received world-class care.
The only other experience I've had was when I had a miscarriage two years ago. I went to the Emergency room and did have to wait a few hours, although I was not bleeding heavily. When I did get in I was treated with compassion and kindness and felt very much taken care of. Again I saw a doctor and had an ultrasound and only paid for the parking stall at the hospital.
While I recognize that some people have had an entirely different experience with the Canadian health care system, I do not thinking it is fair to demonize the system as a whole. My husband and I have lived in Africa, Asia, Europe, America and Canada and as someone with a chronic health care concern such as diabetes there is nowhere I would rather be than Canada. Working on the system to improve and fix its flaws is one thing but misrepresenting it as a failure on all counts is not only unfair it is inaccurate.
I am not a leftist Michael Moore fan, nor do I believe that the Canadian health care system is perfect...but it has certainly been good to me...and to my bank account.
Sincerely,
Caroline Knox
Calgary, Alberta
Sometimes I just get so mad about this issue...our system is not perfect but just last week I had a flu shot, a blood test, a visit to my ob/gyn, a visit to the endocrinologist and an electrocardiogram of my baby's heart - all for free. And you know the best part? Anyone living in this country would have access to the same thing - and that just feels right.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Making Lemonade
It snowed today. Which in itself, being the ominous first day of snow and everything, is a sad thing. It is a foreshadowing of the cold, wet and grey days to come and the complete lack of flip-flops in my life. But...and there is a but. The first day of snow is also the day I go out and buy brand new pyjamas (aside: do you know that Americans spell this word "pajama"!? How grotesquely phonetic of them.)...usually flannel ones. So, as the snow falls, I can sit at my window, with a cup of tea and know that despite all the white harshness Mother Nature throws my way I will be protected in my warm, flannel force field.
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