Grief, Nutrition, and Exercise
You're never prepared. Never. It can come in an instant, and no matter how much you think you've readied yourself for it, it hits like you've been crushed by a tumbling wall of bricks. You know it will happen one day, but you don't expect it to be that day. You know there is no avoiding it, but nothing can hold you up when it occurs.
On Friday, November 18, 2016, my mother passed away at the age of 58.
While I come to terms with her death, I also realize I must also come to terms with the behavior changes I have made while she was ill for the prior two months. My mother was extremely proud of the progress I made in changing my life, my behaviors, and my overall body composition. She used to tell her friends and other family members how amazing it was that I was transforming my life, my body, and achieving goals I has dreamed of achieving for decades. I truly believe that keeping this going is what she would want more than anything; to ensure I live a long, healthy, well fulfilled life.
This isn't the story of my mother's life, or of her decline, or ultimately her death. Those are stories for another day. Instead, this is the story of how illness can change our behaviors and the importance of ensuring those behaviors don't become self destructive.
Whenmy mother first went into the hospital in September, my stress levels began to rise. I noticed by diet beginning to slip. It also coincided with my camp trip, so already I was already thrown off a bit by changes in schedule. I noticed myself desiring sweets more and more. Some days I could resist, while others I found myself stress-eating chocolate on a too regular basis. When I would grab coffee from the Dunkin, I would also find myself subconsciously ordering a donut.
As the weeks progressed, it began to get worse. I would be snacking on a near-constant basis. When I would learn she was doing better, I eased off a bit. If something came up bad, I would find myself snacking again. Then the call came... my mother had a stroke while at the nursing facility being on the mend for an infection. I began to ravenously eat whatever I could find in the house. It simply was the reaction to stress to begin grabbing food and making myself feel temporarily better with this Band-Aid.
I constantly found myself eating food I shouldn't be eating, neglecting my hydration, and increasingly consuming massive amounts of coffee just to try to ease myself.
After the stroke, she went to a rehab facility located by my bother. This made me feel better; she could recover from the stroke, get stronger, and be near family even though we had to be apart. While at the rehab facility, I began plans to fly in to see her in person.
Then the call came in, and she was back in ICU again. A urinary tract infection, but a nasty one that had spread. She was going to be fine, though. A couple of days in the hospital, and she'd be back to rehab again. She went into ICU for the UTI on Wednesday and by Saturday they were ready to start moving her to a room and prepping her to go back to rehab.
The next day, I received a text that I needed to be a conference call about mom's status. She had taken a turn for the worse. Chocolate, chocolate was my friend. I was told her condition was extremely critical, and I made plans to fly out as quickly as I could. When I arrived, I was told the full details far beyond what I learned the prior day... her respiratory system was failing. I was told that, in nothing but simple terms, that she was going to die. My entire body went numb, my mind went empty. I began to hunger for more food, it was what I always used to comfort myself in the past.
Over the next five days, my mother was sent to an in-hospital hospice facility where she would be "actively dying" as it was explained to me. The objective was to make her as comfortable as possible in her final days. I was committed to spending her final days with her, taking care of her as much as I could.
In between visits to her bedside, I made trips down to the ground floor of the hospital. There were three options; the cafeteria, Starbucks, and Tim Hortons. Never in four days have a drank so much coffee, eaten so much garbage, and in general had such more behaviors for my own body. Later I would tell a friend that I do believe I consumed more sugar in those four days than probably the prior four months combined.
Each day was the same; barely sleep, spend time with mom, drink coffee, eat a donut, grab a cranberry bliss bar, eat something from the cafeteria, and keep repeating that.
When my mother passed away, the shock was simply more than I could bear at the time. I remember vaguely going to Dewey's Pizza in Columbus, Ohio and eating pizza. Most everything from the moment I was told she passed until about the time I landed from my flight the next day is still much of a blur to me.
As I began to settle back into my life of "new normal", I found some of my behaviors were persisting. I'd grab coffee and still be grabbing a donut. I was still reaching for chocolate to satiate my need for comfort. Each time I was doing it, I was both simultaneously conscious and unconscious of the action. As the week progressed, my actions were beginning to take a physical toll and make me sick to my stomach. This was not a physical reaction, but an emotional reaction.
As I look back today, I realize a lot of the actions I took may have been necessary as part of my overall healing process. However, I also know I have goals I want to achieve, a body composition I want to attain, and I won't achieve these things by stress eating. More importantly, I also know my mother would not want me to be repeating the same behaviors. Many of these behaviors may ultimately may be what caused my mother's own death, and she was so proud I was breaking the cycle of dependency on food and my desire to get fit.
To the end, she still didn't like me lifting "heavy" weights, always concerned about my safety above all else. She wanted to protect me, she was my mother after all. I assured her it was safe, I was working with an awesome professional who was helping me, and she had nothing to worry about.
During her final days, in one of our conversations (which were difficult given the stroke) I promised her I would keep my progress going, that I would not allow bad behaviors to repeat themselves again.
So now I am facing a "new normal" without my mother. I do this with her in mind, to ensure I honor her memory and that I will break the cycle of poor health, obesity, diabetes, etc. that has caused the early deaths of many in our family. In her honor, I commit myself more than ever to the great endeavor of a healthy life.
To help steer me back, I will begin food logging once again for a minimum of 30 days. Every single item will be logged; condiments, oils, etc. Everything. I will also commit to returning to a normal workout schedule after my next work trip; four days of lifting, multiple days of cardio, and bringing #BeastMode to everything I do.
At the end of the day, we only have one life. It is up to us to ensure we do everything we can to live a long, healthy life. We can't always control if we get hit by a bus, but we can control if we eat that extra donut. I now do this not just for myself, but for the memory of my mother who I often thought hated me working out but was simply so proud of everything I've done, the commitment I made, and she knew I would be accomplishing great things for years to come.
I miss her so much every single day; more than I possibly could have imagined. You're never prepared. Never. I do know, however, that time will help... as will keeping my promise to live a healthy, strong life for many, many decades to come.
