The Bear

The Bear - Film by Jean-Jacques Annaud.

My Insatiable Appetite

The other night I was watching one of the early Seinfeld episodes where Jerry would do a stand up bit first. This one hit me like a ton of bricks:

You know, I tell ya, I gotta say that I'm enjoying adulthood. For a lot of reasons. And, I'll tell you reason number one: as an adult, if I want a cookie, I have a cookie, okay? I have three cookies or four cookies, or eleven cookies if I want. Many times I will intentionally ruin my entire appetite. Just ruin it. And then, I call my mother up right after to tell her that I did it. "Hello, Mom? yeah, I just ruined my entire appetite...cookies." So what if you ruin it. See, because as an adult, we understand even if you ruin an appetite, there's another appetite coming right behind it. There's no danger in running out of appetites. I've got millions of them, I'll ruin them whenever I want!

The large, bolded part got me thinking. Why do I binge eat? Why do I insist on gorging as though it's my last meal? I'm going to have another appetite and another opportunity to eat several hours later. Unless I get hit by a truck or my pie hole disappears, I'm going to eat again. I'd really like to understand the psychology behind overeating.

Today, my friend and I ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant, Mi Cocina*. They have the BEST grilled chicken with sour cream sauce. It's a pretty good sized breast, grilled and smoked. Accompanying that is a huge dollop of guacamole, rice, and pico de gallo. Oh, and the chips and hot sauce sit there on the table ganging up on us, taunting us to eat even more.

All of this food is really too much for me to consume all in one sitting. If I had any self control, I would eat half and take the other half home. But I can't stop until I have eaten every last grain of rice on my plate. Afterwards, I'm miserable.

Yes, I'm sitting here so uncomfortable that I want to get rid of what I just ate. I just spent $21 for lunch and all I can think about is regurgitation. I immediately came here to my blog, miserably typing, seeking answers as to why I would eat to the point of being uncomfortable. Why? Anyone have any suggestions?

*I tried to take my own photo, but the restaurant was too dark. This one is courtesy of Tengo Hambre NYC.

My Mom and the Wii

This was my mother around 1959 - the same year she married my father. Isn't she a beauty? When she married she had a 19" waist. There was no way I was wearing that dress for my wedding in 1980. Even if I wasn't 4 months "along", it wouldn't have happened. I was small-boned and petite, but not that petite.

Fast forward to 2010. After 20+ years of living with Parkinson's Disease (PD), my mother had pretty much given up hope on any kind of medication helping her. The first prescription they gave her, called Requip, made her hallucinate terribly and do some crazy things. Each day she imagined certain relatives and friends sitting in her living room. She'd ask them questions, but they wouldn't respond — just sit there like zombies. She'd call and ask me why my cousin was in her living room refusing to speak to her. The answer was, my cousin wasn't there. Although she was aware of the possible side effects, it was still unnerving.

Requip also caused her to microwave a couple of TV remote controls. Another day she spread peanut butter on all the burners of her stove and turned on the heat. The burning smell of peanut butter snapped her back to reality. Then late one night she found herself wandering outside her apartment complex. She realized something had to be done. All these scary scenarios were worse than the PD.

Her doctor then prescribed Stalevo. It doesn't cause hallucinations, but it does make her nauseous. Not every day, but most days.

A couple of years ago we were hopeful when her neurology specialist convinced her to try a patch which would deliver the medication slowly, over the course of the day. She tolerated the patches very well, but after several months they were recalled by the manufacturer and she was forced to go back to Stalevo. Since she can't take a strong dosage, her mobility wasn't that great. She still stumbled and had trouble performing the simplest of tasks, like bathing and brushing her teeth. And then there were the bouts of nausea that would set her back for days at a time.

So when my mother saw a news piece on CNN about Parkinson's patients having more mobility after using the Wii, she told me about it. She sounded excited and hopeful. I hadn't heard that kind of excitement in her voice in a long time. It was right before Christmas and I had been agonizing over what to get her. I researched it online and found that studies did indeed suggest that the Wii could be extremely helpful for these patients. I was on board immediately. The Wii came just in time for Christmas, but there wasn't anyone available to help her set it up.

Finally, her sister, J, came over to set up her "Mii" last Sunday and show her how to use it. J called me that night and said how quickly my mom caught on to the game. She said my mom's face lit up and she looked like an 18 year old swinging the remote. Her favorite is the bowling game, and after only 6 days she is playing up to an hour at a time. She's been getting strikes and spares! She is moving around much better, getting compliments from people who haven't seen her in a while. They are astounded at the improvement in her gait and the lack of shaking in her hands.

I must give thanks to God for answered prayer. Many prayers have been lifted on her behalf and I'm convinced that His answer is the Wii. I would never have dreamed that my mother, at 71 years old, with PD, would be into video games. And that the games could help her. That is a true miracle.

Forth Worth Stockyards

Had such a grand day in Ft. Worth yesterday! We went to see the daily cattle drive and it was awesome. Fun, fun day!

Aging

Double D took this picture of Izzy and me today. I imported the image into my software program for processing knowing I would need help. I enlarged it on my screen and had an immediate urge to bolt to the bathroom and shout, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, surely you do lie. Mirror, mirror on the wall, we don't see eye to eye." (rest of poem here) Lordy, where have these hard lines come from?! I hadn't noticed them before. My skin is tired and parched. When did that happen? Can I blame the camera?

I tested several of the black and white presets thinking that might help. The one that looked the best was called, of all things, "Aged Photo". It was as if my own software program was mocking me. I came to the grim realization that there is no Photoshop program in the world that can soften this hard face.

So far, I've rather enjoyed aging. I have more confidence, I have a 21+ year job history, a little money in the bank, and a more settled life. The closer I get to retirement, the more excited I get about all the things I'm going to be able to do. But with this face? I don't know. I guess I'll survive it. :/