Donna James
Twenty years ago my self-esteem had been essentially obliterated by an abusive marriage. By the time I left I doubted everything about myself. Was I was doing the right thing? Would I be able to do this on my own — to start over from scratch? I had been told again and again that I couldn’t do anything right. That I would never survive without him. Well I did!
It took a lot of hard work and determination. My biggest motivator was my children. I was determined to get them out of the toxic environment. They deserved a life where they could enjoy being children. But as much as my children were my priority, I also had to take care of myself. As we hear before every flight, we need to put on our own oxygen mask first to be able to help others. So I put on my oxygen mask all those years ago so I could help my boys and have continued to wear it since then — well most of the time.
Over the years, a combination of emotional eating, depression and the “joys” of menopause led to a gradual 20 lb weight gain. But I felt happy and content. Looking back though, I knew I was NOT happy or content about the weight gain — but I would just tell myself that it was only 20 lbs.
Fast forward to the summer of 2017; my children were now living on their own. I was proud of how well they were doing and felt I could sit back and relax. And by “relax”, I mean enjoying and indulging in my husband’s fantastic cooking, rich deserts and a sharing a bottle of wine here and there. l still thought I was taking care of myself, but honestly, just not as good as I should have. And now we would be facing a big challenge. My husband was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic Squamous Cell Carcinoma.
I automatically went into caretaker mode. It was such a terrifying moment, to hear that diagnosis for someone I loved with all my heart. My first reaction was to take care of and focus solely on him. He was my priority. I was going to be by his side for every appointment and treatment and make sure he followed doctors’ orders and took care of himself. He began preparing himself and his body for the biggest challenge of his life. Looking back, I wish I had grabbed that oxygen mask sooner so I could have been in better shape to help him and myself along the way.
Because the cancer was in his tonsil and neck area, the doctors warned us that his throat would be drastically affected by the treatment. It would ultimately affect his ability to eat or drink. That combined with the side effects of chemo and radiation on his appetite, it would definitely result in weight loss. They told us it could be up to 20 pounds, but they mentioned that in some of the more severe cases, they had seen other patients lose as much as 60 lbs. Sometimes more. So part of the action plan was to increase hubby’s caloric intake to prepare and bulk up his body to help alleviate the negative effects this form of uncontrolled weight loss would have.
My husband does all the cooking so not surprisingly, when he began bulking up his diet, I happily indulged in the delicious buttery benefits and as a result bulked up as well. He added more cheese, butter, sauces and gravies to everything. Call it sympathy weight or just stress, but I played into the whole meal melee and gained weight right by his side.
For the next six months, my husband endured surgery, never ending medical appointments, tests and treatments. My employer allowed me to adjust most of my schedule so I could start earlier to accommodate all his appointments and treatments. During the week I was up by 5 am, went into work early and then went direct from work, driving my husband to his treatments. By the time we got home it was usually well past 6 pm. After a few weeks, the pain in his throat was too intense to eat solid food so every night I would make him a fresh pot of Lipton chicken noodle soup for dinner. It was all he could eat or stomach. The rest of the pot would usually last him through the following day as he forced himself to eat. That same routine was repeated everyday during his months of treatment.
I’m a very light sleeper as it is, so I didn’t sleep well at all from the time he had his first surgery at the end of that summer until well after his treatments had been completed. I would wake up several times through the night; every time my husband would get up, cough, sneeze… move… even when he was sleeping TOO quietly. Stress, exhaustion, weight gain and a terrible feeling of helplessness was taking its toll. Being an emotional eater surely didn’t help. Always one to try and look my best, I felt I no longer had the time — but in all honesty, I felt that I SHOULDN’T take the time. The thought of it made me feel guilty.
By now I felt like a bloated Gene Simmons. Not the edgy, young cool rock star Gene…. but the older Gene. It was not pretty. In addition to the weight gain, bloating, stress and exhaustion, I was living in sloppy baggy tops and leggings and attempting to color my own hair at home. I didn’t get a haircut for six months, my gel nails had actually grown off, my roascia was flaring up big time and I lost half my eyelashes from stress. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
Now, you may be thinking that THESE things should be the least of my worries during this time — especially with all that my husband was going through. Trust me; it was NOT a “vanity” issue or concern. For me, going to the salon has ALWAYS been my way to relieve stress and re-charge. Some women like baths, pedicures, massages or spas to help alleviate stress. My stress reliever was getting my hair done. It was one of my few luxuries. So not having the ability to do this — to just calm myself and escape from all that was going on for a brief moment to re-charge was now also having an affect on my personal well-being.
Once my husband completed his treatment he had lost a total of 65 lbs. And I had gained 10. It was now crucial to get him eating again so he could gain back the weight and muscle he lost. Having an “Aha” moment, I tried to convince his doctors to let ME donate my extra weight to him — to do a “fat transfer”. That I would happily donate all the weight he needed. But apparently, that is not an actual medical procedure. Boy, these doctors were real Regulations Roys! So now my husband would have to gain the weight back the old fashioned way. But this time he would have to gain it by himself.
One of the many lessons I learned during this entire ordeal is the importance of taking care of ourselves. Physically and emotionally. I felt guilty wondering if I could have done more to help him if only I had had more energy and strength. My focus now was going forward. My husband was on the road to recovery — and I would also put myself on the road to my own type of recovery. Getting my old self back.
I spent the next nine months on weight loss programs and lost 36 pounds. It was intentionally slow, focusing more on changing habits and behaviors than losing quickly. Now, I’m feeling better and have more energy than I’ve had in years. I began taking better care of myself.
The best part is that my husband has been gaining weight and he too is also feeling better and retaining more energy each day. Together we are each taking the time to do what we need to do to feel better. Be healthier. I am determined to maintain my energy and weight loss so I can take care of BOTH of us.
I really can’t stress how much better I also personally feel when I take that time to look my best. Eating better, doing my hair, make-up and enjoying my wardrobe again. By no means am I saying that you have to look good to feel good and that you can’t have one without the other. We’re all different. I just know that for me it has helped immensely. I have that spring back in my step, a bigger smile on my face and feel more confident and empowered than I have in years.
We also shouldn’t make ourselves feel guilty for taking the time and effort to take care of ourselves. Whatever works for one of us, may be different for the other. The important thing is to be able to dig deep and know what will help make ourselves feel better and stronger. Maybe it’s a new outfit, a new hair style, a massage at the spa or lifting weights. We just need to do it — and not feel guilty. We need to grab that oxygen mask, put it on and own it. We need to take care of ourselves so we can have the strength and power to help our loved ones. And if looking good is what gives you strength; then do it. It isn’t about being vain or self-indulgent, but rather about understanding, acting on and being strong enough to know what works for us. To feel better. Stronger. Empowered.
Once again, I’m ready for what life throws at us. I may have gone on hiatus for a while. But now I’ve found myself — again!
