Not-So-Happy Anniversary

This week is the anniversary of my very first ambulance ride. Not my best day.

On January 16, 2017, I experienced chest pains, nausea and shortness of breath at work. My boss sent me next door to the fire department. From there I was rushed to the hospital. The good news is that I wasn't having a heart attack. Actually, that's the only good news. I spent three days at the hospital being poked and prodded. My blood pressure was so incredibly high that the nurses were taking it hourly. The bruises from the blood pressure cuff took weeks to heal.

The official diagnosis was angina. Truth is, my body just said FUCK IT, I'M DONE.

I had stopped taking my meds for high blood pressure, high blood sugar and high cholesterol. I ate crap, drank too much, slept too little and avoided exercise as much as possible. I'd been carrying around and extra 60+ pounds for a decade.

I'd like to say that I had an epiphany in the hospital and changed my lifestyle.

I didn't.

Instead, I pouted. I tried half-heartedly, then got frustrated and eventually just stopped altogether.

It sounds so stupid when I say it aloud. But sometimes, I'm just not the sharpest tool in the shed. It took another eight months of feeling bad before I finally thought "Gee, maybe I should do something differently."

And now -- four months later -- I'm still trying to get my shit together. It's a lot more difficult than I'd like it to be. The weight is coming off excruciatingly slow. I still crave sugar and deep fried foods. Forcing myself to exercise is a daily battle.

But I'm moving in the right direction. Baby steps. I try not to think about where I would be today if I had started right away. (It's a bit depressing.) Instead, I'm trying to focus on where I am now. And I like to imagine where I'll be this time next year.

← Here's a current picture. No noticeable changes from the before picture. As for the numbers:

               Starting weight: 214
               Current weight: 204

Baby steps, Kelley. Baby steps.