I haven't thrown in the towel, but I might as well. This week has been a slow week of excuses and extravagance.
Let's begin... Monday I made it to the gym and even doubled up on my timing (go me), but I was on my 4th day of 'being late' and the stress took away from the intensity of my workout. I also skipped the evening strength training, because (excuse number 2) Richard is working nights this week and is screwing with our routines.
Tuesday, I had the best intentions to go to spin class but finally a visitor arrived (you didn't think I would tell you I was pregnant like that, did you?) and I was in the worst pain, keeled over at my desk. I also got a new project that filled my morning.. and my afternoon. The very same afternoon I scheduled my annual review. Picture it... an intense meeting in my bosses over heated office with cramps tearing up my insides. Mmm.
I got home Tuesday night for a mad dash of frantic, with a splash of excitement as Richard and I prepared to taste the menu at Geraldo's, our wedding venue. The diet went to hell when the buffet opened and I was forced to sample everything... including wine and dessert. (Read about it here). We got home at 9p; Richard quickly changed and headed to work. Having already blown my diet I snacked...
Wednesday, the big day, I was off of work and headed to a doctors appointment, then planned a busy day of getting things done (fail). Let's talk about this Doctors appointment.
I arrived 15minutes early (at their request) to fill out paperwork. While I was sitting in the waiting room, with my paperwork, the receptionist decided it was a great time to openly mock past patients. I believe the conversation was something like 'Did you see that guys cold sore?', 'Yea, it was practically talking to me'. I tried not to listen and to not let their unprofessionalism taint my experience, but I was already feeling queasy anticipating bad news. Then a kid (I say this, because she was barely 18) asks me to step into the back room. She is wearing a deep purple valor leisure suit with a golden dragon spilling over her entire back. She escorts me into the back room for weighing and measurements. She doesn't allow me to take off my massive sweater or shoes, but weighs me anyways. This room is about 4 feet wide and 3 feet long, on one wall was a stack of random boxes, including one for toilet paper. Another wall was an old yellowing fridge (please remember I am at the specialist office) and half through the assessment the receptionist cuts through and giggles.
I am taken to another crowded little room and asked random questions about thyroid cancer, followed by all the questions I just answered on the forms I came in early to fill out.
I find a little room at the end of the hall with a man lounging behind a desk cluttered with papers, garbage, food and more. He invites me to sit down and asks why I am there, I mention my thyroid and a few sympt-- he cuts be off and says 'excuse me. I am reading.' as he scans my chart. Thanks. He then mumbles, in an accent I don't recognize, about Dr. Hart. I say-- wait, this is better in dialogue.
'you see he-art docter?' he said.
'I'm sorry who?' I try to sound polite.
'Card-EE-log-eye-gist?' He says slowly.
'I'm sorry I don't uderstand' I respond even slower.
'HEE-ART' He says, 'He-ART Doc-tear'
'Heart Doctor? No.'
You get the idea... he was reading my chart all the way back to 2008, thanks for being thorough, but let's skip ahead. (PS. No, I never saw a heart Doctor, even in 2008... he misread the chart).
I am typically VERY patient with people, but I could read this guys face 'look at the lazy fat girl, looking for a quick fix and a reason why she is gaining weight. Maybe you should stop eating, fatty.' I have seen that look before. The doctors don't believe for a second that I eat well and exercise. I loose my temper when that glazed over look appears. I excused myself, left the office and have no intention on going back, but my doctor, my lovable GP will hear about this.
I cried in the car. I has prepared for news... news of something, something curable. Not nothing. Not another 'its all in your head', but that is precisely what I got.
The best part about my week... Richard was home, warm and snuggly in bed. I drove home tears in my eyes and climbed into bed. We slept all afternoon and it was perfect. I didn't go to yoga or get anything done, but my heart was healed and I loved it.
Sleep turned my eating schedule upside down and I skipped lunch, but ate an early dinner with Richard around 3. We bounced around the house for a few more hours, before I went to bed and he went to work. It is confusing, but ok for just one week.
Today (Thursday) I packed a healthy lunch, with good snacks. I went to step class and pushed through the high intensity of the class. I feel ok with myself... disappointed, but ok.
Tomorrow is Friday and I have all the intentions in the world to go to the gym and eat well, but its Friday and I still have all those errands to do. So I may skip certain healthy options, besides I am a chocolate craving maniac at this time of the month.
That is why this week is a waste... Next week will be better and February 1st will be amazing, because I have more doctors appointments, including my naturopath, who will fix everything. Sigh