So I’ve been casually seeing this guy, and when I spend the night I don’t always stay on top of grabbing something to eat in the mornings, or before bed. Lately I haven’t had an appetite at all, and since I haven’t been on steroids, the weight has been coming off massively. I didn’t really realize how little I was eating until recently, because honestly I haven’t been hungry. I was heavier than I wanted to be, and I’m at a nice weight right now, so it’s not like I’m unhappy with the weight I’m at, it’s just scary that I got here the way that I did, and it’s scary to know that I will continue to lose weight (rapidly) if I don’t eat more.
Anyhow, there are a lot of problems when you have no appetite, and an autoimmune disorder that makes you nauseas. First off, I have seizures, and while my medication works, if I’m not sleeping well, or eating well, I’m putting myself at risk for seizing. After two abysmal nights of sleep I was pleased that I at least got better sleep over the guy’s place than I had been at home the prior nights. Still, I’d eaten a whopping 400 calories for the entire day, and while I had noshed on a few potato chips at his place, it probably only got me to around 600, less if you consider calories burned.
I didn’t get home until almost noon today, which was later than I’d wanted. I was tired, and kind of hungry, but I had a ton of stuff to do for work, so I threw myself into working without even changing out of my clothes into something comfortable. I knew I wanted caffeine, but didn’t even stop to get my caffeine fix. My mind was on work…except my dog.
When I got PTSD 9 years ago, my dog stepped up in a big way. He learned to stop panic attacks, motivate depressed me out of bed, and check doors and windows if I was feeling twitchy. He also began to alert in the last few years to rapid heart rates associated with black outs, as well as begin to act funny during my pre-seizure auras. In the last few weeks I’ve noticed something else he’s on top of…low blood sugar.
So, as I sat there, trying desperately to get my work done, my dog was nudging my hand, whining, and licking my hands. I thought maybe he wanted me to move to the couch, but that didn’t do anything, in fact, me moving made it worse. I stopped what I was doing and did a body check. I wasn’t having an aura, so I knew I wasn’t going to seize unless I was about to have one totally random seizure which *knock on wood* has never happened to me. That’s when I realized it was pushing 12:30, and I hadn’t eaten more than a couple potato chips in over 12 hours. The last time I ate before that had been 12 hours before. In total, that was about 600 calories in 24-hours, with physical activity. I took stock of how I felt and realized I was kind of dizzy. I felt a little drunk, and confused, and was working slower than usual.
I ate a granola bar, with protein, and drank some vitamin water. I rapidly felt better, albeit nauseas because I wasn’t hungry but needed to eat. The dog, satisfied with himself, curled up under the blanket and slept while I finished my work.
People see me, and they’ll say, “you don’t look sick,” unless I’m flaring of course. (That’s when I’m told I look like death.) They see my little dachshund and wonder how he could possibly be a service dog…but he is. I need to remember he’s more in tune with me than I am sometimes, most of the time in fact, and I need to trust him to alert me to things I may not notice on my own.
I’ve been accused recently of having an eating disorder. Just because I’m glad that I’ve lost steroid weight, doesn’t mean I have an eating disorder. There is a huge difference between having an issue with food because your body doesn’t process it well, and wanting to be thin so you ignore the hunger. I rarely get hungry, and even when I’m hungry, I can only usually eat half of whatever it is I try and eat. I know I have that blocked celiac artery, and I’m sure it’s more blocked than the doctors think, because if it’s 60% blocked all the time, it must be more blocked when the vessels swell.
In any event, I feel like digestive garbage. Food doesn’t have pleasure for me. Lactose, gluten, alcohol, meat, and anything high in fiber? Yeah all of that is out. I used to love salads. Now it’s a few bites and I’m in excruciating abdominal pain. Doctors push fiber so I can be regular, but anything with too much fiber and I’m doubled over and need prescription strength Imodium. This balancing act becomes such a pain that you double up on vitamins, and live off of bland foods because it’s the only way you can survive. I can eat like a normal person, or live like a normal person, but I can’t do both. I would love to eat at restaurants. Go on dates with guys and not have to explain why I’m only having a Sprite.
Anxiety obviously makes it worse, and I’ll admit that I do have IBS. My GI issues aren’t all Behcet’s related, though the bleeding isn’t necessarily a common thing in IBS patients. Still, the level of GI issues I battle? It’s intense.
So yes…I’m wearing smaller jeans. Half of my Facebook feed is congratulating me on the weight loss, while the other half is concerned. Me? I’m just glad my dog noticed my low blood sugar before my friend and I took off to buy new jeans. Passing out from low blood sugar is a drag. Seizing from it is worse. Doing either of those things at a crowded outlet mall by the California/Mexico border? Not ideal.
Apparently I should really be considering medical marijuana as a more regular thing instead of an occasional thing. I guess I’m still thinking about it as a drug drug, instead of a medication. It would be nice to be in a better mood, and have an appetite!