My "journey" to a healthier ME!!

Hi, I'm Beth.  Before I go any farther, let me tell you I know nothing about making webpages so please be patient with me...lol This first picture, me being silly, was taken 10 days before I started Weight Watchers, at 346 lbs or so.

Ok, now onto my webpage stuff.   I wanted to do a webpage for accountability to myself and to hopefully aid others in their weight loss "journey", whether they are just starting, trying to decide when to start, or those who may have started but are getting disallusioned or just plain wanting to give up.  I have been on many weight loss tangents in my adult life.....and no, I wasn't always overweight.  As a matter of fact, I weighed 6 lbs 8 oz when I was born.  Nothing overweight or even chubby about that.  Here I am, around 18 months old:

Cute wasn't I?  LOL  Ok, enough of that....I had a relatively quiet childhood.  I was reasonably active, heck I played softball for 6 yrs and I was even GOOD at it.  No, I wasn't a fast runner but man could I hit that ball...(I needed to since I wasn't a fast runner...hehehehe)  I was also on the dance team at my high school.  In my senior year, I was an officer:

See, nothing "fat" about me....(boy does that pic bring back some wonderful memories.)

I had many friends, belonged to many school groups and activities, I had boyfriends, went on lots of dates, homecoming dances, prom....not like I missed out on anything in high school.  I wasn't the "fat girl left out of things" person.  I never really felt self conscious about my weight or size until the dreaded "weighing in P. E. class" when the teacher would weigh each person, get their height and practically YELL it from the rafters for everyone and their moosehound to hear.  That was when I would be faced with the fact that I was heavier than the other girls, not necessarily ALOT heavier, but heavier, nonetheless.

In 1974, I got married.  My wedding dress was a size 20.  I look at my wedding pictures and definitely don't see a "fat person".  Two months after we got married I got pregnant and in 1975 I had our first child.  I had a reasonably uneventful pregnancy and I only gained 12 lbs.  My doctor worried because I was "so large", at 200 lbs, that I would have many problems.  The only problem I did have was my blood pressure tended to be high but it was mainly at the times I went for prenatal checkups. (Imagine that huh? LOL)  I had a 7lb 2 oz son and 2 weeks after his birth I was back to my 200 lbs weight.  I could get right back into the jeans I had worn before....not too bad huh?   Life was good.  I had a wonderful husband, a beautiful child, a great family and no worries.....little did I know what life had in store for me down the road.....

Around the same time (or my 6 wks checkup), my husband got sick.  He had numerous tests run on him and after being in the hospital for a week they decided to do exploratory surgery on him.  I was at the hospital with him and back and forth to my sister's and my mom's to be with my newborn son as much as I could.  Can we say STRESS??? Yep, it was rampant.  I probably overate but I truly don't remember if I did or not.  After the surgery, hubby was fine and life got back to "normal", although for us that took on many definitions.  My husband always worked very hard and was gone a lot of the time.  I was NEVER one to like being alone at night (I saw a peeping tom when I was 6 and have been afraid ever since).  I didn't sleep much, had a new baby to tend to and it was very stressful.  As I look back now I realize the weight kept up on me gradually.  (I figured out at one of my first WW meetings that it took me 30 years to gain 210 lbs….from my high school weight of 150 to my guestimated highest weight of 360 or so.  That is 7 lbs a year….so remember when you WI and “only lose” a little weight that it is a lot easier to gain the weight, ‘only a little at a time’ than to lose it.) In late March of 1978, our son and I both got a bad flu/virus.  We were sick as dogs.  We are also on a lot of medication.  I never thought anything of it..........until early November of that year.  I had been feeling just so tired and just not right, so I made a dr appt.  Guess what??? I wasn't just tired, I was PREGNANT.  And not just pregnant, but VERY pregnant.  I was due at the end of December.  Now I know a lot of you will be thinking "man, is she a dummy or what for not realizing she was pregnant allllll that time."  Well you know what? I didn't.  I had never EVER had regular monthly cycles and I didn't have any type of morning sickness to speak of.  With my first pregnancy, I had it by the truckloads.  I was STUNNED to say the least.  We were thrilled but I worried about not having proper care during the pregnancy.  My 2nd son was born Dec 29, 1978.  He weighed in at 8 lbs 11 oz.  Needless to say we didn't think anything was wrong because he was born without problems and weighed a healthy weight.  He DID have trouble swallowing though (and there was no term "reflux" back then).  We had to learn to feed him differently but we did.  When he was 3 months old, he got pneumonia.  He had always had a rattle when he breathed but the Drs were never concerned.  He was admitted to the hospital and was given penicillin....Ok, that is what should be done right? Yep, except for ONE problem.  He ended up being allergic to it.  He stopped breathing and I tell you what, it was like our world went upside down from there.  They were able to revive him but he was in major distress, so they moved him to a larger hospital, 50 miles away.  He was in the Neonatal ICU for 3 wks.  He had good days and OMG, did he have bad days.  DH and I stayed in the town he was in for 1 week then my husband  had to go back to work.  I stayed another week (thankfully I had an uncle who lived near the hospital).  I went daily, spent as much time with him as I could.  I truly don't remember much else about that time, just being in fog of sorts.  Now, remember, I also had a 4 yr old too, who THANK GOD, was well cared for by my mother during the day and by my older sister at night.  At the end of that 2nd week I was so torn between staying by my sick child and needing to be with my well one.  The drs said the baby was "out of danger" and that they were just watching him closely..........so back home I went, VERY reluctantly.  My husband and I went every other day back to the hospital and I called 4 to 5 times a day to check on him.  When he was finally released, it felt so wonderful but we also knew he had severe respiratory problems and they wouldn't just go away overnight.  We were referred to a hospital in New Orleans and had an appointment for the following week.  We met with several doctors and here is where the real HE!! began.  They tested him for this and for that and this and that and then started all over again.  In the meantime he would stop breathing.  Many times an ambulance was called and MANY days and weeks were spent in that hospital 100 miles away from the rest of my family.  I was alone, with a very sick child, in a big city.  No family, no friends, no transportation.....I did manage to find a friend though and that friend's name was FOOD!!!  There was a Burger King and a Beignets (Cajun donuts) shop across the street from the hospital.  The nurses there were WONDERFUL.  They would look after the baby so I could get out and get some fresh air every day.  Along with the air I got food, LOTS Of food.  Food can be your best friend and your worst enemy, but I didn't realize the enemy part until MUCH later.  All in all my beautiful son spent 10 months of his 13 month lifespan in and out of hospitals.  He died peacefully at the tender age of 13 months old, January 30, 1980.  I canNOT tell you how devastated a parent is when they lose a child.  It goes against the "natural order" of children burying their parents, not the other way around.  I am thankful though that when his time came, we were in our local hospital and not so far away.  I don't remember much about things after he died.  People will tell me stuff but its all a fog. I do know that I gained 80 lbs from the time he got sick until the time he died.   I was "fine" for a while....about 3 or 4 months, then I started falling apart.  I couldn't sleep.  I was in a daze.  I literally was a "walking zombie".  I went to Drs.  They gave me pills to sleep, and then when I seemed to be sleeping all the time, they gave me pills to wake up.  I wasn't living, I was existing.  I don't know how I even took care of my other son, who by that time was 5 yrs old.  I was spiraling out of control.  My "wakeup call" was when my doctor told me he was making me an appointment with a psychiatrist.  Now you have to remember, this was in the early 1980s and when someone was sent to a psychiatrist, they were labeled "crazy".  I knew then, as I know now, that I wasn't crazy.  I had a lot of grief and guilt to deal with.  You might ask why guilt.  To me, I hadn’t taken proper care of myself when I was pregnant; therefore I hadn’t taken proper prenatal care of my unborn child.  To sum it up, I felt like I was the reason he had died.   I don’t think I truly shared that with ANYONE for probably most of my life.  It was guilt and shame and sorrow.  There was no such thing as grief counseling at that time. .  (It wasn’t until sometime in 2003 that I talked to a very dear friend about the guilt I had carried all those years and that friend,  made me realize many things I hadn’t seen clearly about the events before and after our baby was born.  It took me 23 years to come to terms with everything and finally be at peace with myself).   I decided the only person who was going to help me WAS me.  I stopped taking the pills cold turkey.  I know now that was probably a very stupid thing to do and  I don’t remember if I had problems with that because all I knew was that I had to get off of that stuff, and I did.  It took me a while but it was worth it.  Life became worth living again even though there was a hole in my heart when it came to the loss of my son.  I slowly became “myself” again.   I reveled in my remaining son.  Little League, Boy Scouts, band in school.  He did it, we went to it.  From 1981 to 1993 my husband and I became followers.  Where oyr son wnt, we went.  Hubbyl worked a lot but when he was home he attended the things our son did with me.   At one point in time was working overseas.  His schedule was 90 days gone and 30 days home.  It was hard but it was “necessary”.  We adapted and I think we grew from it.  Yes, some of the growing was in weight gain but things we had a solid roof over our heads, food on our table and truly didn’t want for anything and that was all that mattered.  

The years went by…. Weight crept up on me…SLOWLY but it kept on coming…..

We are now in 1993….it was a year of great change in our lives.  Son graduated from high school and we moved 50 miles away from our families.  I know this doesn’t sound like a very far move but to me, who had always lived close to “home” it was almost like moving to another country.  Hubby had been commuting for his job for 4 years and it was time for him to have it a little easier.  At first I wasn’t happy about moving but I knew it was the right thing to do.  I liked where we moved to.  Son went to college, hubby had a great job  and I went back to work.  Things were good.  I had no complaints………yet I continued to eat.  I ate when I was happy, ate when I was sad, and ate just to be eating.  I know there are worse addictions but food IS an addiction when it becomes something you do for comfort and I ATE.  Christmas in 1993 was bittersweet.  We decided to have our families, hubby's and mine, for Christmas and celebrate in our new home.  My mom wasn’t well yet she enjoyed it so much.  She was happy to see us settled and loved our home.  That was our last major holiday with her.  She died in March of 1994.  It wasn’t unexpected as she had been ill for 11 yrs but it was still very difficult to take.  She TRULY was the “rock” of our family.  She was the disciplinarian and her word was law.  She believed in the “spare the rod and spoil the child” way of upbringing and you know what? IT WORKED.  We knew better than to misbehave, talk back, make bad grades and we survived it all.    I again turned to food.  It was comforting.  It took away some of the sadness in losing my mother.  I know now that isn’t rational thinking but back then, it made perfect sense to me.  Funny thing is that she had always been thin, yet all her daughters were fat.  Genetics isn’t always all its cracked up to be, that’s for sure. 

I don’t know what brought me to another chapter of trying to lose weight but in 1995 I found a place called Body Designers.  I had seen it advertised on our local TV station.   It was a passive exercise machine and a pretty good food program.  I was skeptical but not so much of the program but of myself, knowing full well “this would probably work for a while then I would get bored as I usually did on any diet”.  I stuck it out for a year and a half, lost over 60 lbs and around 80 inches.  I felt better than I had in ages.  I was weighing 248 lbs.   I felt THIN (which of course isn’t true but it is how I felt).   I also found something else at that time….THE INTERNET!!!  There was a “new world” out there….a world of people all over the place…a world where there were people, MEN in particular, who appreciated “a woman of size”. I was flattered and felt important,  something I hadn’t felt in a very long time due to my own insecurities.   I frequented BBW chat rooms, made friends, AND I let it go to my head.  I made many mistakes and even though my husband and I separated, we were able to work things out and got back together.  I started putting the weight back on, plus another 50 lbs or so.  I did it out of nerves, stopping smoking AND as a “security blanket” I guess.  I had been really fat before and it kept me “safe” so I would do so again, to keep that safety net.   Things were very good then in November of 1996 I was laid off from my job.  It came out of nowhere at the time although when I look back on it now I realize there were signs I just didn’t pick up on.   I was shocked but not really upset as it had gotten to be MAJORLY stressful there.  I would never just up and quit, stress or not, as I loved what I was doing.  I realized it was a blessing in disguise.   Being unemployed gave me time to help my son and future DIL get their wedding together.  They were married in January 1997.  I wore a size 26 or 28 dress and I was POURED into it.  I look back at the wedding pictures and realize just how horrible I looked.  At that time, I was having horrible monthly cycles.  My periods were getting heavier and heavier and lasting longer and longer each time.  I was also getting tired all the time.  I chalked it up to being so very overweight and never thought it could or would be anything else.  Right after their wedding I felt like I was getting bronchitis (which I had had several times, once so badly that I was almost hospitalized for bronchial pneumonia).  I went to a doctor.  I had had bronchial pneumonia while hubby and I were separated.   I didn’t want to go through that again.  I was fortunate in that I wasn’t coming down with bronchitis again but the doctor that saw me told me I looked very pale and asked if he could run some blood tests on me.  He said he would call me in a couple of days with the results.  He didn’t call in a few days….. He called me the very next day.  He said I was not only anemic but EXTREMELY anemic….so much so that he had referred me to a hematologist and my appointment was the very next day.  Silly me never thought anything of it, figured anemic; they will give me iron and send me on my way….WRONG WRONG WRONG!!! Not only were my red cells way down, but ALL my blood lines were down, except my white cells.  I was tested and retested for numerous blood problems.  I was given different treatments, ended up having to have a complete hysterectomy in April 1997 due to not being able to stop bleeding.     In June 1997 I had my spleen removed.  They figured that was the cause of my low counts and that would be the end of that.  WRONG AGAIN!!!  They gave me IV gammoglobulin, mild forms of chemo, etc.  My counts would rise then drop like a brick.  I was getting more and more tired as time went on.  FINALLY, in December 1997, they decided to do a bone marrow biopsy on me.  I was given blood and platelets transfusions before the procedure. (An up side of those transfusions was that my energy returned, with a vengeance and I got things done that I had put off or neglected for several months beforehand).   My results came back “inconclusive” but with enough evidence for them to decide I “probably” had Aplastic Anemia.  Aplastic Anemia is a rare bone marrow disorder characterized by decreased function of the bone marrow that results in abnormally low levels of all the cellular elements of the blood (pancytopenia). In some cases, the disorder may affect primarily single cell lines (i.e., red blood cells, white cells, or platelets). The initial symptoms may include increasing weakness, fatigue, recurrent or persistent infections, and/or bleeding. In about 50 percent of cases, the exact cause is not known.  Yes, leave it to me to get a disorder that they can’t find what might have caused it.  They discussed possible treatments, all of which they had done “a few times” or “on occasion”.  Ok, I’m not a rocket scientist by any means but when someone is talking about a person’s health and a person’s LIFE, I want them to have done treatments more than just a few times. In the back our minds, DH and I both were thinking that is fine but we WILL get a second opinion.  This was December 17, 1997.  When I called our son to tell him that news, he told US some news they had but were going to hold until Christmas.  DIL was pregnant and the baby was due around the time of my birthday, in August.  We were overjoyed and at the same time it hit me that I was very ill and may not live to see my grandbaby.   At that moment I KNEW no matter what any doctor or blood test said that I WAS going to beat this.  I WAS going to be there for my grandchild.  Talk about “lighting a fire” under someone….That was me with a revived hope and determination to beat whatever this was robbing me of my life.  We had a very good Christmas, even with my medical problem hanging over us.  I didn’t want anything to take away from the joy and solemnity of the season.  After Christmas we talked with my local doctors and we decided definitely to get a second opinion, at a hospital that specialized in disorders of the blood and bone marrow.  Hubby and I went to Houston where doctors had seen MANY cases of this and their treatments, although basically the same as my back home doctor had suggested, were done on an almost daily basis.  I knew that this was a better situation for me and for my chances of beating the illness.  The first option was for a bone marrow transplant.  Both of my sisters were tested and neither matched me (surprise, surprise NOT).  The irony of that is there is a 1 in 4 chance of a sibling to be match and while neither of them matched me, they did match each other.  They were going to put my name on the National Bone Marrow registry when the doctor realized that I only had had that one time blood and platelet transfusion, so instead of jumping into a bone marrow transplant he decided to transfer me to a Bioimmunotherapist at the same hospital.   She then went through ALL my test and blood studies.  She didn’t pull any punches with us, telling us up front all the probabilities and possibilities with the treatments they had for Aplastic Anemia.  It is at times like that when one realizes that many times the treatment options are almost as frightening as the illness itself.   She decided to do one of the two secondary treatments on me.  We had to be in Houston for 3 wks after the treatment as most patients have many ups and downs for those 3 weeks, blood counts fluctuate and transfusions are usually necessary.   I had the treatment done in late January 1998.  It was very up and down the entire time.  For 2 weeks I had platelet and blood transfusions every other day.  Due to a reaction FROM the treatment at the onset, they had to double my premeds given.  I was on double doses of benadryl and a form of cortisone.  I had been on Prednisone since April 1997 and they had to UP my dosage to 80 mgs a day.  Now, if ANYONE out there has ever been on this lovely (said sarcastically) but helpful drug, they know it has MANY side effects, one of which is WEIGHT GAIN.  I looked like I had been pumped up with a bicycle pump.   I packed on about 40 more lbs and when I went home in late February, I weighed right at 300 lbs.  I was told (warned very emphatically) by my doctor not to even THINK about losing weight for a while to come.  It would be an additional shock to the body that my fragile immune system probably couldn’t endure.  Now, how often can a fat person say their doctor told them NOT to lose weight?  Probably not many, that’s for sure….I was very fortunate though, that the treatment I had jump started my bone marrow again and once I was home, my blood counts never faltered.  They were slow in recovering but the important thing is that they DID recover.  My doctor never used the word “remission” as she said she didn’t like its connotation. (She DID finally say “remission” when I went for my latest checkup, in May 2004). She always said my illness was “under control” and that was fine with me.  As always though, my weight continued to slowly climb.

By this time we are in September 2003.  We have moved again due to hubby’s job change.  I LOVE where we are living.  I had a lot of time on my hands and was sort of at loose ends.  (I had been babysitting my younger grandson at the time we had to move).  One day I was at my older sister’s house.  I watched her walk across her living room, having to stop halfway through to catch her breath and then hold on to the wall as she got across the room.  I could see her legs, badly swollen from the knees down, even though she wore support hose all the time and it hit me…I left there very depressed and when I got home I cried long and hard.  YEP, that was my “AHA” moment.  I was seeing myself in a few years if I didn’t do SOMETHING and lose all the weight I had gained.   Here I was at 48 yrs old and weighing over 350 lbs.   My younger sister had been going to Curves since May of 2003 and was doing very well.  I started looking around for a place like that to exercise as the nearest Curves was 35 miles away and I didn’t want to drive that 3 to 4 times a week.  I looked at health clubs and exercise places nearer to me and found one that did circuit exercise, like at Curves. I found this place TOTALLY by accident on the way to an eye doctor appointment with DH.  How I found them didn’t matter (maybe it was “divine intervention” but who knows).  I called them that very afternoon and went in the next day for them to explain things to me.  I was VERY apprehensive as all the women I saw there truly didn’t look like they needed to BE exercising but I knew, again, I had to do SOMETHING healthy for myself, so I signed up. That was on October 1, 2003.  Her scale only went to 350 lbs, so she “guestimated” my weight at 354 lbs. (I have a sneaky feeling it was higher than that but I’ll never truly know)   I knew it was going to be that high, or higher so it didn’t shock me.  I went 3 to 4 times a week, did the circuit and left, totally exhausted but after a couple of weeks, also invigorated.  It felt GOOD to be doing that…..A month later my sister and I talked about things.  I had lost 10 lbs and 11.5 inches in the first month.  MAN was I excited.  By this time sister was trying to decide on a food plan to do since her weight loss had slowed down.  We decided on Weight Watchers.  I had been on WW before MANY years ago and hadn’t done very well.  Helen, my sister, had also been on it a few times before and had ALWAYS done well.  I joined on Monday, November 3 and she joined Wednesday of the same week.   At my first WI I weighed 346.   I read the books, planned meals and forced myself to drink the recommended water.  First week I had a loss of 5.2 lbs.  Next week 3.8, next week 3.6 and by that time I was HOOKED!!!  I could eat things “diets” wouldn’t let you.  I didn’t have to do without carbs (which any Cajun worth their salt wouldn’t give up for ANY reason), I could go out to eat…this was GREAT.  The thing WW DID do for me was making me realize that I had to be aware of my food…my portions, my choices; my binges….the whole enchilada (pardon the expression).   I followed the program and the weight continued to come off.  I was still going to exercise, usually 4 to 5 days a week by then, but I also added walking 30 additional minutes on the treadmill.  I had to switch to 30 minutes on the recumbent bike due to a heel problem I have had for years that was only aggravated by the walking.  I felt WONDERFUL.  I could do things that had exhausted me months earlier.  My clothing was looser as time went on.  I lost at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. For Christmas hubby and I gave each other bicycles.  We had a great neighborhood to ride in and so we did.  WE LOVED IT.   People that don’t know how WW works were amazed and stunned.   How can someone be “dieting” during the holidays and LOSE WEIGHT?  I explained over and over, as all of you have I am sure, that WW isn’t a diet. It is a lifestyle change and it IS something one can do for life and still not miss out on any foods they choose, as long as they enjoy them within reason AND within their points allotment.   People may never understand and that’s ok because it isn’t for them TO understand, but I sure did.  To this date, I have had one WI with a gain.  It was around Mardi Gras time and it was only .8.  Was I upset? YEP but I got over it, realized why it happened and that I had done it to myself AND I vowed to live by the “No Excuses” mantra.  If I was going to do this, I had to learn to not only DO it, but LIVE it, now and every single day of my life and not let anyone or anything get in my way.  Food is great but it isn’t nearly as great as being able to play with my grandsons, who are now ages 5 and 2.  It isn’t nearly as great as seeing my 83 yr old father’s face light up when he sees how much weight I and my sister  have lost and how much healthier we are.  It isn’t nearly as great seeing the wonderful expression on the faces of my doctors at my weight loss.  My doctor in Houston asked me, when I went for my checkup this past May, how I had lost the weight.  She also said she thought of me as an intelligent person so she HOPED I hadn’t done it by WLS, nor by doing that “asinine” Atkin’s diet that will do more harm than good to people in about 5 yrs” (her words).  I told her an emphatic NO to both of those.  That I had opted for exercise and Weight Watchers and had lost 72 lbs (80 lbs counting the ones lost before WW).  She was thrilled for me and told me she was extremely proud of me for taking such positive steps for my health.  Like I have said before, I had a life threatening illness that I didn’t let beat me.  My death certificate wasn’t going to read “Aplastic Anemia” and I decided it wasn’t going to read “morbid obesity” either.  I AM going to win at losing this weight.  So far, that is happening.  As of the writing of this story, I have lost 80.2 lbs on WW (and from my beginning weight at the exercise place, I am down 89 lbs.)  I have a little over 116 more lbs to go to get to my goal. (As of the updating of my website today, December 30, I have lost 113.4 lbs on Weight Watchers and a total of 120 lbs AND 61.5 inches.)

 Will it be all “downhill” as far as the scale going down?  Heck no. I know that as time goes on the weight will get more and more stubborn in wanting to stay on my body but it has met its match in this VERY stubborn Cajun woman.   Will I have obstacles? Of course I will.  If I didn’t it wouldn’t be the learning experience it needs to be for me to be able to “live it” the rest of my life.  Will I get discouraged at times? Probably so but you know what?   THAT is called “being human” and we are all that.  Will I be able to keep it off once I am at goal?  Only time will tell but I will go at that with the same vengeance that I am going at losing the weight.  What makes the difference is that I WON’T let anything deter me from getting to my goal and keeping the weight off.  I now have 2 beautiful grandsons.  I will be there for their life events.  I will see their Little League games, their Scouting events, and their school events.   I will be there for their graduations, their weddings, and HOPEFULLY if the Lord says the same, the birth of THEIR children.   I also have an IMMENSELY supportive and wonderful husband who is also doing WW and is doing great , my younger sister who is one of my greatest cheerleaders, my father who has gotten his wish that his daughters, at least 2 of us so far, are losing weight and taking care of their health,  some SUPER new friends that I have found through WW .  As one of my favorite sayings goes "Never trade what you want most for what you want at the moment" and I WANT to be the best/healthiest person I can be.

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On June 19, 2006 I became very ill.  I was hospitalized on June 28 and had surgery on June 30 for an intestinal blockage that had strangulated.  Now, being sick for almost 2 wks and hardly being able to eat or drink (or keep down) ANYTHING, you would think I would have lost at least a pound or 2 but nooooo....I gained 12 LBS.  I almost had a breakdown when I got home from the hospital.  FORTUNATELY, it was mostly fluid and my total gain for the 3 months I was recuperating was only 8 lbs.  I am in the process now of losing that weight AGAIN and HOPEFULLY making it to that ever elusive "ONEDERLAND" by the end of this year, at the latest.  MAN, after eating very differently for most of those 3 months than I had grown accustomed to in the previous almost 3 yrs was interesting, to say the least.  I had to modify my eating, as per my doctor, until my intestinal tract was better but THANKFULLY I am back on track with eating and all the exercising so I can see ONEDERLAND as the light at the end of a VERY LONG tunnel (and not an approaching AmTrak train, ready to run me over...LOL)

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