It's a hard thing to get past, "I'll do X when I've achieved Y." Especially when Y is a hundred extra pounds huddled lovingly on your frame.

I'm working hard to get past this, but some things—especially things that focus on interactions with other people, such as dating—are still hovering on the mythical "when I'm thin" spot on my calendar. But I'm getting better about getting myself the occasional pretty outfit that fits now, not when I can order from the "normal" size person catalog. My mom was obese and she was dieting and exercising the entire time I knew her, except for the last several months post-chemo, before she died. And she put off lots of things until a thin time that never came. I'm trying hard to learn from her example and do otherwise. (Not put things off, that is. I'm still trying to exercise. And I need to hit "post" so I can meet up with Amyth for a walk.)

Easier said than done. It's nearly impossible to be a strong advocate for yourself when you're so depressed/exhausted/in pain you can barely get out of bed, or cognitively impaired by disease or mental illness or sheer fatigue. (I know you know this. You should read the long-ass original post I culled this from. I'm ranting.)

Oh, yeah. I know and live this. I've only really been able to be a forceful advocate for myself with pregnancy.

Cause hell if I practice what I preach.

I have had mixed experiences with doctors and therapists and such.

I've had the same doctor for a long time but there are defintely some issues there.

But it's really hard to find a good doctor. I'm procrastinating about finding a therapist because of the issues I have. I as given a list of three names -- 1 wasn't taking new patients, 1 didn't take my HMO any more, and 1 started seeing. But she kept bringing up childhood sexual abuse in weird ways. And she didn't seem to believe her when I said, that I wasn't and no one had ever asked me or thought I was.

Speaking of my doctor I may have to call them tomorrow, I have a headache, a fever and a sore throat.

Apparently Cheney's trip to the hospital was, in fact, for a mild heart attack.

I can, fortunately, say that I am NOT imitating Dick Cheney. The fact that I'm posting either means that I'm recovering after getting a baboon heart transplant and The Boy brought me my laptop, or I'm home waiting for pizza to get out of the oven.

(Hint: it's not the baboon heart.)

After an EKG, blood tests for cardiac enzyme changes, and a chest X-ray, apparently my ticker is okay. Or, at the very least, I haven't had a heart attack, and everything seems stable.

They do want me to get a treadmill stress test soon, though, which is fine by me.

Amusingly, the doctor in charge at the ER was my friend from high school (the one whose screed about the evils of health insurance ruined my night a while back). So, despite the fact that his paycheck is coming from MY INSURANCE, it was reassuring to see him.

He told me that, with my dad's history, it was definitely NOT a stupid idea to come in. And that women get the shaft when it comes to heart attack symptoms, since they're often much vaguer than the symptoms that men get.

(Also, he told me that this morning he had a patient who DID have a heart attack whose only symptom was diarrhea. And the thing is, it was the patient's *second* heart attack, and both times the only symptom was diarrhea. Can you imagine? If it were me, I would be FREAKED OUT every time I went to the bathroom!)

As for what the dealio is with my own symptoms, they were probably a combination of side effects from the new antidepressant, my IBS, and stress. Vague but apparently not deadly.

And now if the pizza would just get done cooking, all would be well with the world.

Yay for the good news Teppy! And the treadmill test will probly be good if nothing else than to make you feel better in the future when you do feel a bit parnoid (assuming of course the treadmill comes out negative. If it doesn't all the more reason to have gotten it!)

They do want me to get a treadmill stress test soon, though, which is fine by me.

I was going to ask if you'd had one of those. Apparently, they didn't push my time on the treadmill as much as they wanted because at the 4 minute mark they didn't like the signs of stress they were seeing. So I'm supposed to walk very quickly for 5 minutes a day so we can get my heart used to doing more than updating Farmville.

I've gotten my 1-mile walk time down from ~17 minutes to under 15, so I'm cool for a treadmill test.

And the pizza is making my belly happy.

I'm so glad you went to the ER, Teppy. I'm of the "it's just a flesh wound" school, and it's going to kill me one day. I urge everyone to do not as I do, but as I tell them to.

And the thing is, it was the patient's *second* heart attack, and both times the only symptom was diarrhea. Can you imagine? If it were me, I would be FREAKED OUT every time I went to the bathroom!

Considering the way my IBS manifests, I'd be having a heart attack in every store bathroom in town. (I know. TMI.)

Considering the way my IBS manifests, I'd be having a heart attack in every store bathroom in town. (I know. TMI.)

Right??? b/c, SO WITH YOU on the IBS thing!

God damn, that's a good pizza. (Totino's crappy, cheap-ass pizzas are inexplicably tasty to me. Especially when I doctor them up with fancy sausage on top.)

Totino's crappy, cheap-ass pizzas are inexplicably tasty to me.

I love me some Party Pizza. I DO NOT CARE THAT THEY ARE BASICALLY CARDBOARD WITH SAUCE AND CHEESE ON TOP. We used to have them all the time as after-school snacks, so there's a nostalgia factor there. Now I sometimes chomp one down for lunch. I have not tried doctoring them. That seems to be a waste of whatever I would be doctoring with. If I'm going to doctor a frozen pizza, it might as well be decent frozen pizza.