Posted by thedarwinexception on March 5, 2007
I’m taking the easy way out today – and just posting this little worried rant. Not that I don’t have a million and one things here I should be writing about, it’s just that I have no energy today. I’m worried and totally scared and totally confused and overwhelmed.
A while back in January I posted a picture of Paul, and Que! Barbara – apparently more observant than I am, posted a comment asking me if Paul had lost weight. I responded to her saying “Yes – he’s proud of it”. Which he was – at the time.
But now Paul has become like that guy in that “Thinner” book of Stephen King’s – he keeps losing weight, and it’s now at the point where it is no longer something to be proud of, it’s more something to be worried about.
I hadn’t really noticed. I swear to God, I hadn’t noticed. Most of the time when I see him, he’s bundled up in 6 layers of clothing for work, or for going out back and chopping wood, or he’s got his sweats on, and although he did pose for me a couple of times showing me he had lost his love handles, my response was mostly a glance over my shoulder saying “Yup – good for you.”
But yesterday, I noticed. I noticed big time.
The guy has lost, just since October or so, about 100 pounds That’s not right. Paul is a big guy. He’s 6 foot 2, and normally his weight hovers between 240 and 260. Yesterday, when I was noticing the weight loss, I insisted he go and step on the scale. He argued about it, saying “Oh, that thing is never right”, but he finally went and weighed himself. The scale said 130. Paul has *never* been that thin. Ever. He looks gaunt and old and scary.
Then I started to get worried – mostly because I thought that for the first time *he* was worried about it. He had gone from this great pride in his weight loss to “Holy Shit! You know what? I think something might be wrong here.” Which made me scared. Normally, if he’s not suffering from burger induced concussions, he’s not the type to go to the doctor’s. He’d rather suffer through things, or self medicate or self treat. He doesn’t run to the doctor’s for anything, and even when a situation would be an emergency for anyone else, he’ll shrug it off. But if *he* was actually saying “Something might be wrong”, then something must surely be wrong.
I worried all night, and cried all morning and finally called my friend Lesmond and cried on the phone to her (that’s what she does – she listens to me cry and complain – everyone should have a Lesmond). That made me feel better, and she looked online for symptoms matching his and thought “maybe it’s diabetes” – and agreed with me that I needed to get him to the doctors as soon as possible. If only because it’s so hard with him to know what is a “symptom” and what is normal “he works hard” stuff. Does he drink more? Sure, but he works hard all day. Are his muscles sore? Sure – but he chops wood all night. But Lesmond brought up the very good point that working hard and chopping wood should build *up* his muscles, not make him lose extraordinary amounts of weight. But, it’s hard to know what his symptoms are. The weight loss is certainly the most extreme thing – but maybe his grey, ashen color is a symptom. Maybe his joint and muscle pain is a symptom. Maybe he’s drinking more and I don’t notice. Maybe the fatigue and falling asleep on the couch isn’t just a ploy to get out of the “honey do” lists I have – maybe it’s an indication of an illness.
So tonight when Paul gets home, I’m going to insist we go to the walk in place at the hospital. I’m hoping they can do *something* or at least, as Lesmond said, start with blood work and go from there. I mean, I know it’s a walk in place and probably not my top choice for “go to the doctor’s”, but I can’t wait for 2 weeks for an appointment. I’ll be sick myself with worry by then. I’m one of those people who create all these scenarios in my mind – I mean, most of them are probably worse than anything that could possibly actually happen, but I create these diagnosis’ in my head and then start to believe them. I need to know what’s *really* wrong, just to make sure it’s not all the things in my head, and after 2 weeks of the things in my head, I would surely go mad.
So, hopefully I can convince Paul to actually go tonight. That will be the hardest part – convincing him that this is a subject not open to discussion, that we are going and that’s that. He can be very stubborn, and he’s good at coming up with excuses – he’s honed those skills handily with the remodeling of the house.
But, that’s the story for today. If I can get him to go to the doctor’s, I’ll post tomorrow what we found out. Think good thoughts.