I’ll Stop Tomorrow

I cried when the nurse told me how much I weighed.  She looked confused and surprised …as if I hadn’t just asked her to NOT tell me my weight.  I asked her twice for emphasis.

It’s always awkward to cry in front of strangers.

I used to walk and do sit ups during commercial breaks at night, but it became a bit much after they put us on overtime. I’m just too tired these days. I wear myself out sitting at a desk every day, doodling on a notepad, and listening to answer machine robots ask me if I’m a member or a professional.  Could I please provide my facility’s nine digit tax ID?   Is this for a medical or psych admission?  (As if psychiatric stays are not medical, like, say, heart conditions or COPD.) 

I doodle and answer in bored, precise tones to avoid repeating everything. If the robot doesn’t understand, it apologizes and asks again. In my mind, when the robot asks me if I’m a member or a professional, I say, “I am old and fat.”   The robot asks how fat? Press one for mildly. Press two for moderately. Press three for obese.    I press two.   Then the robot asks what my three digit weight is in order to properly route my call to a representative who does not give a fuck.

I get an email.

Morning Everyone!

I brought in some cookies that I made. Sorry but these are not low carb & low fat. But they are absolutely delicious!! J They are great for dunking in coffee. You can find them next to the CHAN02 Printer.   Shelly.

I delete it.  I’ve already had a small bag of chips with my coffee. 

“Representative,” I say in a flat tone.   I draw a picture of a dog pissing on a fire hydrant as I explain to a representative that we did obtain an authorization for the member’s hospital stay.  She asks what the date of the admission was. I tell her.  I draw the dog shaggy.  It appears the authorization does not include the first day.  Now we have to send an appeal .  

I get another email.

Chicken Biscuits and Yogurt Parfaits are now available in the Café.  Your friends in HR.

I make several more calls to find out what we didn’t do, in turn causing the insurance companies to deny the admissions.   By the time I go to lunch I’ve got a dent in my hair from the head-set.  I’ve drawn suns, spirals, snails, and puppy-dog tails all over the note pad.

I try not to be hungry, but I am.  I order chili in the cafeteria because it’s cheap.  In my mind I tell myself to skip the crackers and the cheese.

“Could I have cheese on that?  And two extra packs of crackers?”    I hate myself.  I decide I will have nothing but liquids starting the minute I get home.  I catch a glimpse of myself in the Plexiglas that surrounds the fruit and cottage cheese cooler.    I will not eat anything when I get home.

In three weeks I’ll look fabulous.

After lunch I only have six more hours to go.  I turn on the fan, pour some more coffee, and clamp the head-set back on the existing rut in my hair. 

I get an email.

My sister made apple cake.  It’s even better if you zap it in the micro to warm it up.  It’s on the desk across from Edna.  Enjoy!     Yvonne.

I’m NOT having that.   But an hour later I’m hungry, and since I’m not eating anything when I get home, I decide to have a few smoked almonds.  After all, they’re much healthier than cookies and cake.  I’ll have just a few.    Two hours later I’ve eaten the whole can.   Now I want to cry … and pick my teeth.

An hour before clock-out I get another email.

               I scream… You scream..

We all scream for ICE CREAM. The ice cream social is ready.  Come to the Atrium!    Your Friends in Education.

I will NOT go to the Atrium.   I’m tired. I’m getting my spreadsheets confused.  Was this the Humana responses from 4-23 or from 4-27?  Was this the spreadsheet I documented already, or is it the one I still need to copy to the O drive? I pick at a piece of dried skin on my neck 

When I get home and pull into my driveway I realize I have no recollection of the trip.  Scary.  I feed the cat and mine for gold. [Clean the clumps out of the litter box.]  I look forward to a glass of wine and a good book.  My stomach is growling.  I’m hungry.  I really shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach but I’m too tired to make a salad.   I get the blue chips down and grab the hot salsa out of the fridge.  I eat as I read. God it’s good to relax.   I pour some more wine.  I eat more chips. A friend calls.  I eat and drink while we talk. 

Now I feel sick.  I’ve eaten the whole bag.   I decide to try the throw-up thing … just once.  

  It seems that I pee when I throw up.  Jesus, I’m too old to even be bulimic, not that I’d WANT to be, mind you.  It was just an experiment!  It surely wasn’t good for me to have a whole bag of chips,  that were NOT gluten-free, in my stomach.  I believed that purging, at that moment, was the responsible thing to do.

Apparently it was not.

Sit-ups did not appeal to me after this lesson in humility.  Not that I need a lesson in how to be humiliated, I pretty much have that down pat. 

I decide I will only drink green tea the next day.  The next morning I log on for another ten hour day.  I check my email.

Trisha brought donuts in for everyone today!   Happy Friday!    They are on Ro’s old desk!  Enjoy!

I eat one donut.

 A plain one.

 I decide to skip lunch.   I get an e-mail.

Interested in learning more about a healthy lifestyle? Community Hospital of NPR dietitian team is offering a lunch & learn.

                             Striving for a Healthy Weight

They are providing box lunches of ham and cheese sandwiches, a chocolate-chip cookie, and chips.

I did not realize I was screaming out loud.