One of the things we talked about was diet. D claims that I have a horrible diet, and that it's just like my Mom's. My Mom is diabetic (or at least pre-diabetic), and her cholesterol is through the roof. She called E almost every day to talk about things that were worrying her, and E could tell that she was back on the Haagen Daz, which of course is a no-no from both the diabetes and cholesterol perspectives.
So, we fuiss about her, and then, as we dig into our own bowls of ice cream, D points out that we are just as bad. "You're all turning into your mother, it's fascinating to watch!"
In times past, those would be fighting words, but now I see the truth in them. We can run, but we can't hide. Her genes, her child-raising, and her example are ever-present. It's not all bad, of course. We are all musicians, all literate, all creative and active. We do our best to have meaningful lives and do good in the world. We care about each other.
But, we are also hypochondriacs, self-absorbed worriers who don't always take care of practical things. We can talk any topic to death. We can miss the rattlesnake to our left and the muddy headlights on our cars. We ALWAYS call when someone is busy. And, we have addictive personalities. We rarely do things half-heartedly, and we obsess.
It's not too big a problem, except when dealing with food. We all have different attitudes towards it: one family is vegan, two are dealing with a heart condition, another is dealing with diabetes, one sister fasts, I insist on organic food. Meal-oriented get-togethers and discussions of health are fraught with peril, because we all have our own needs and biases. We have added food to religion and politics on the list of Things We Should Not Discuss.
That being so, I was in a quandary when I returned from the vacation to my own diagnosis of pre-diabetes and high cholesterol. I wanted to pick my siblings' brains: they are all educated and smart, they have researched the issue in dealing with their own health, and one sib is a respected and talented nurse practitioner. So, I checked in with them and, amidst the conflicting and somewhat acrimonious discussion that ensued, I came away with this basic takeaway: avoid simple sugars, exercise more, and be careful about various fats, enzymes, vitamins, and toxins. The latter is problematic: the research is contradictory and very very specific, filled with acronyms and numbers and caveats.
So....I am a baker who can no longer bake. I am a chocoholic and an oenophile who can no longer indulge, at least not often. I LOVE carbs in all their gooey, chewy, crunchy, comfort-y, sweet/salt manifestations. My favorite breakfast is coffee and toast with lots of jam or honey.
In a word, this sucks.
But, so does heart disease, blindness, stroke, and losing toes. So, it's back to my regular-exercise, low-carb, high-veggie, portion-controlled lifestyle. I did this ten years ago and kept it up for a couple of years. I can do it again. And it does feel better.
However....
On Sunday I was sitting in the risers with my fellow Santa Fe Chorus symphony members under the hot stage lights, waiting for the 4th movement of Beethoven's 9th Symphony. It was towards the middle of the 3rd movement when I began to feel queasy, clammy, dizzy....the same symptoms I had in November 2012, right after I left Dave and wasn't eating. I thought, great, I'm going to throw up on stage....I closed my eyes and focused on staying upright. When I opened my eyes, everyone around me was asking me, sotto voce, if I was okay, offering me water, etc. I gather I had a fainting spell or seizure that was apparent to my near neighbors. The woman one chair away switched places, took my pulse and said I needed to leave the stage. I looked up and saw the conductor, tiny in the distance, distinct against the darkened auditorium, motionless, looking up at us. The 3rd movement had ended, and I realized that nothing would happen musically until I was out of there. If I hadn't been so out of it, I'd have been horribly embarrassed. As it is, I'm still cringing in retrospect.
The woman who took me off stage turned out to be a doctor in her regular life. She took a history, got a bottle of water down me, and, at my urgent request, returned to the stage to sing. They called the co-op and eventually M, who was in Santa Fe, came over and took me to the ER. I didn't want to go, but the doctor/singer called it in and got me pre-registered, insisting that I needed to be evaluated, because I'd had a "vasovagal" episode and needed fluids, EKG and bloodwork, all of which happened. 3 hours later, they diagnosed me stupid and sent me on my way. Stupid, because the cause of my syncope was apparently dehydration, exacerbated by the heat: nothing wrong with my heart or blood sugar. The pulse was a little low, but that's it.
So I stayed in Santa Fe another night and was driving home when my sister called to check on me. (She'd called while I was in the ER.) I said, joking, that I'm blaming it on the low-carb diet, and she quite seriously said that it probably was a big factor. I hadn't eaten much that day since oatmeal and fruit for breakfast, and my blood sugar was 90, which is fine for a fasting draw, but not for a normal person.
What to do?
Drink more water, I guess, and eat more snacks. Sigh. There are so many more inspiring ways to focus my energy.
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