Get Out the Fat Pants Again!

It took me years to rethink my concept of food. During that time, I continued to gain weight thinking that I could just lower my fat intake and shed pounds like I did when I was 40. Two years ago, I hit 206 pounds -- 6 pounds over my never-want-to-weigh-that-much upper limit. That was enough, so I tried the South Beach Diet. I took to the diet like a whale takes to water -- extending the 2-week Phase One period to a month long. I did not struggle with eliminating "bad" carbs and processed foods from my diet. A few months and minus-thirty pounds later, I met my "interim" goal. I kept the weight off during last year's holiday season, so I was prouder than ever. This year, it all fell apart.

We ended up in the Northwest Hospital's ER when Dorothy experienced severe stomach pain in late October. Less than a month later, we found ourselves back in the ER after a colonoscopy that found a "small" malignant growth near her appendix and after she experienced more severe pain. I started eating (good) hospital food and other "comfort" food. Dorothy's operation went well to remove what turned out to be a fist-sized mass from her colon (T3N0M0 for you experts). It was 1mm from breaking through the colon wall. Whew! At least Dorothy was able to slim down to less than 150 pounds -- her target weight for a long time. I, however, gained a few pounds.

We thought we were in the clear -- that she would not need chemotherapy -- because they removed all of the tumor. Then came the week of surprises.

On Friday, the oncologist (Dr. K) mapped out a chemotherapy regimen for Dorothy that included infusion every 2 weeks for 6 months. We were quite surpised by this, but Dr. K explained that the narrow margin (1mm), her family history, and her young age indicated that chemo would help. I found out that, without it, she would have an 80% to 90% chance of living beyond 5 years. The chemo will increase those odds to nearly one hundred percent. We ate at Martha and Mary's Restaurant on the way home to comfort ourselves.

On Tuesday, Dr. C told me after a routine colonoscopy that I had a problem and sent me to see Dr. S, the colo-rectal surgeon. The day was like a bad dream, but it only lasted a day. After much prodding and testing, the good news was that the tumor had not spread. The bad news, I suspect, is that it is located near the lower part of my rectum (I wish I could find a better word for that). So, I started chemo plus radiation for 6 weeks to shrink the tumor. To put it bluntly, Dr. S is trying to save my ass.

Dorothy's first week of chemo went poorly and we spent another night in the ER and 5 more days in the hospital. I did what I could to keep my strength up for long days of sitting in the chair beside her bed. Thank goodness the next round went better -- she is generally tired and a little nauseous, but otherwise okay.

We have been fortunate to have food delivered by the Food Faeries over the past few weeks. We have eaten well -- thank you, Lisa and the Food Faeries. Too well, if you ask me. They are weighing me weekly now and I am up to 190 pounds!

I am starting to experience some problems "down there" and I am now on a low-residue diet. Do you know what that means? White potatoes, rice, pasta -- all the things I trained myself not to eat while on South Beach! It is the Anti-South Beach Diet. The radiation oncologist and others want me to maintain my weight throughout the treatment. If I knew that, I would have kept a low baseline (maybe 180 pounds). They tell me that I will end up losing weight when all is said and done. I hope so -- there must be some silver lining to all this.

In the meantime, I still have my fat pants.