I am forevermore hungry

I don't know why I stay so hungry. Maybe it's because of my meds, maybe it has something to do with the seasons and the weather. I don't know. But it seems like lately I have been so hungry. I try only to eat at mealtimes, and to have regular mealtimes that involve low-carb food choices. I am not perfect. I admit to having 2 or 3 coffee drinks a week, and those can really break your calorie budget. I did eat pizza the other day. But I don't understand why, after a day of breakfast eggs at 6:45, chicken pot pie at 11, chicken and broccoli soup at 3, and scrambled eggs at 6pm, I am so hungry at 8:30pm. There has been enough food.

I'm drinking a cup of hot tea, trying to convince myself that a warm stomach is a full stomach. It is bedtime in 30 minutes and I hope I can fall asleep before I give in and eat again. I have got to lose weight. I am sick of morbid obesity, and terrified of what it might be doing to my knees. I'm not having any particular trouble with my knees, but I want to keep it that way. There's a woman at church, Constance, who is crippled because of her knees and she has to use a walker; she literally moves forward a foot at a time, slowly and painfully. It's difficult to watch. The thought is always there: that could be you, you will be old some day, your body will not be pain-free and easily moved forever. And I would like to feel better about myself. It's hard to do that when you are fatter than anyone else anywhere around you.

I can increase my activity, because walking is free, and I live in a place where it is safe to walk. I can do that. What I can't seem to do is control my appetite. And all this stupid tea is doing is making me warm, which is nice, but it ain't doing much for hungry.

On to other things. Tonight at church was a healing service. Evidently the first Wednesday of every month is one. November's was before I started going, and I have no idea why I missed December and January. So this was my first. It was pretty similar to the usual thing, except there was a fairly lengthy special prayer with responses, and then we went to the rail and got blessed, anointed, and had hands laid on us. When Susan told me what the service was going to include, shortly before we started, she said that she just wanted to warn me, and that I shouldn't feel obligated to come to the rail for blessing. I laughed and told her that I was a foot-washin' and anointin' veteran, so some Episcopalian laying-on-of-hands was not going to scare me off. When it was time to speak our needs, I put my sister and brother up for prayers, because they each have deep needs in different ways. Then we went to the rail, got smeared with a little of the best-smelling oil I have ever been around, and had hands on our heads and a blessing said over us. It sounds more complicated than it was, it went very quickly, but it was a lot of attention to be getting on a Wednesday night. It felt kind of special, and was nice. I didn't know that they did things like that, it seems as though that would be something that was the province of charismatics and evangelicals rather than Anglicans. But it will be the first Wednesday of every month, so now I can look forward to the next one.

That brings me to another point. I am not saying "hey y'all, look how holy I am," because I know that I am not, but I go to the church 4 times a week. Sunday morning for choir and church, Monday night for choir, Tuesday night for Forum, and Wednesday night for service. I think I would go every day if there were something to do and work allowed it. I like it very much! I love the poetry of the liturgy, I like the company, I like being greeted and passing the Peace and doing interesting things. There are some theological points I absolutely do not believe in, but the benefits of being part of this community far outweigh my philosphical reservations. I remember the misery of being expected to be at the church any time the doors were open; that is something I will never allow to happen to me again. But I want to be there, to be with the people and take part in the activities. I live only a few blocks from the church, and don't have much of a life, so it is possible for me to do four times a week with no real problem. Maybe as I continue to develop my life, there will come a time when I need to scale back my participation. But right now, I kind of wish there were more opportunities to go.

On a joyous note, my brother seemed to be in good spirits when I talked to him tonight. He's got a legal case that he's working on his own time, and he's started jogging in preparation for a charity 5K run. So he has things to do that satisfy him. He's not drowning in some slough of despond. He's a survivor, and he's going to recover. All I can do is love him with all my heart and tell him he can call me or email me whenever he needs me. But I feel much better about him when I see that he has projects and hopes.

My sister is sick with some kind of respiratory infection, which is bad news because of her supressed immune system. She's on Cipro and a Z-pack, and tomorrow she is going to talk with her rheumatologist about stopping her Cell-cept until the infection has cleared up. Cell-Cept interferes with her immune response, but it also keeps the lupus inflammation and her bone pain within some kind of control. So stopping it is important due to the infection, but that means that she's going to have a flare, which could put her into the hospital again. Tomorrow will be the third day of work that she has missed because of this crud, which has now moved down into her chest. I hope that it does not become pneumonia. I talked to her on the phone tonight and she sounds pretty sick, but I told her I loved her and that she could call me anytime she needed to. I am going to call a couple of times a day until she feels better, because she will appreciate the attention, and it's easier to feel better if you know that people love you.

And now of course it is 9:25pm and past the time I had planned to be in bed. So goodnight world, see you tomorrow.