How Fast the Week Goes

It's another Thursday and wow how time flys!! Spending time at the gym with Kalev has had to come to a temporary halt. My Ironman training has picked up and because I'm one of these type "A" people in the gym, I literally have no energy left after one of his workouts. I also find that the tremors seem to be more pronounced especially with all the extra training. I still go to the gym at least 3 times a week but not with such intensity. Living with Parkinson's is an everyday thing - never knowing how it will affect you that day. This last weekend was spent initially riding with the tri club - I got the chance to take a newbie triathlete out for her first 50K ride (on her mountain bike!!!). It's great watching someone gain confidence as they ride - she also got the chance to go over a very busy bridge for the first time. It was then off the Island to volunteer for a race in Duncan. I ran 10K before the run started, did my traffic controlling and then off for another 10K. Felt pretty tired by the end. I took Monday off which I really needed. Tuesday it was an hour spin on the bike and then a 20 min run - these are called "bricks". When training for a triathlon, you need to know what it's like to "run off the bike" and this is a good way to simulate the transition. Off to the gym at lunch focusing on my core and legs and then a nice restful evening. Wednesday, off to the gym again and then a great run workout - 20 minute easy run, 6 x 500 at 2:20 and then a nice 20 minute cool down. Gerry was off so he made me a nice dinner and we had a wonderful evening just being together. Up at the crack of dawn today for another bike spin and short run. Felt a bit stiff today.

I don't know if this is a Parkinson's thing but sometimes when I lie down I get pain that runs from my shoulders right to the tips of my toes. It's like every nerve in my body is on fire. Thank goodness it doesn't last long maybe a minute or two - then it's gone. I see my neurologist in a couple of weeks - another questions to ask him.

Pain - what is more debilitating - emotional pain or physical pain. From the age of 16 for me it was the emotional pain of feeling totally isolated. I am thankful that a family took me in but the circumstances and the conditions weren't exactly ideal. For those of you who have read my blog, I did lose the weight (by "sticking my finger down my throat" and one of the brothers did get the $10. Life became a series of lies and cover ups. Back in the mid-60's few people knew what bulimia was so those of us who suffer with it had no resources in our struggle. Initially it wasn't a struggle - you just ate and threw up and got skinny. The sad part was that now boys were noticing this thin girl which fed my disorder even more. I became even more emotionally isolated and honestly thought that by the age of 30 I would be dead. I had no real friends during that period. There were a group of girls that occasionally let me have a peak at what friendship could be. I remember once when I thought I was making inroads into their group - I called one of the group up and asked if they were going to go and hang out at the drug store by the arena - a normal activity at age 16. She said no, so I went off by myself. As I approached the store, there they all were and what do you think I did - I hid. That was the last time I even entertained the idea of friendship. The girl in the household that I staying at had no time for me - she was busy and once she graduated she was off to residence at a local nursing hospital. I can also remember my younger sister whom I hadn't spoken to in over a year seeing me in the bathroom at the local arena which of course was filled with girls. Her first and only words to me were "slut". This was the beginning of the constant thought of committing suicide. What was there to live for? I had no family, no friends and the black hole of bulimia was pulling me deeper into it. The saving grace in my life was "Hell". I didn't know Jesus at that point in my life, but I believed in Hell and I knew that if I took my life that I would be going there. (I can honestly say that right up until I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour suicide was a very luring alternative to life.") I stayed at this home until I graduated but shortly after graduation I became very ill - I couldn't stop coughing and ended up in the hospital. The reason why I couldn't stop coughing was that I had a chicken bone stuck in my throat and guess how it got there. Anyone that knows anything about bulimia knows that you become ravenous and can consume unbelievable amounts of food and that the purging process becomes your greatest high. You have total control!!! And in a lot of cases that's what the disease is all about - control. The problem is you are now controlled by food and once it has you, it doesn't like to let you go. After my time in the hospital, my parents wanted to reconnect with me. I was invited back into the home - I guess the scare of me being hospitalized again made them realize that they might lose me - for whatever reason I was back. I stayed there three months and saved enough money to go to England (it was 1967 and for a trip across the country by train and a one-way ticket on a cruise ship the cost was $260.00!! I lived in London for a year where I boarded with what I initially thought was a nice family. At this point, I was a full blown bulimic where everyday was spent both binging or purging. I had become a pro a deception so no one knew my dark secret. The "nice" family turned into a horror story. Every night the husband would beat his wife. Before they were married, they were in a terrible motor bike accident where he lost his leg. The wife married him more out of pitty than love. I gather he never abused her in the early years but then they had two children and frustration from life in general brought out the very ugly side of him. I remember she told me that she was pregnant with their third child and she was so excited. That night he beat her so badly that she lost the baby. "Well, I will just fall back into my own black hole where I am safe from the world. No one can hurt me there". After a year, I came back to Canada and was accepted by Air Canada for their flight attendants course. I met the criteria - I was 5'3" and weighed 105 lbs!!! To top it off my interview was as superficial as the criteria for eligibility. My interview took place at Hotel Vancouver in one of the rooms. There was a single middle aged male, myself and a bed. He asked me to stand on the bed and twirl. I did so - that was it!! He thanked me and off I went. I was hired and off I went to Montreal for training. That was where I met my one and only true friend. Her name was Annie. Talk about opposites. She was "fancy dancy" and I was cute and "blue jeansy". We shared the same room and I must say that for the next six weeks of training, I was free of binging and purging. We both went back to Vancouver and she invited me to come and live with her and her boyfriend. I soon fell back into the black hole of bulimia. I did my six months of training and then was given some time off before being assigned to a city. During that time I went back to Victoria and stayed with my parents. It was there that I met my first husband JP. We dated for a couple of months and I then broke it off and started dating another guy - John Smith. After a month I was off to Toronto with Annie (we shared an apartment there)to begin my life as a flight attendant . Little did I know I was carrying JP's baby. John was madly in love with me and came to Toronto. He stayed for a while and then was off to Europe for a year of travelling. I was pretty dumb when it came to the "getting pregnant" thing so when I started getting a bit of a belly I thought I'd better see a doctor. To my surprise I was pregnant!!! In one of my earlier postings I go into detail as to what happened next. I told John about the pregnancy and that it wasn't his baby. I also informed him I had contacted the father and was going to marry him. John came back to Toronto to try and convince me not to marry JP and marry him. At that point, we decided to hitchhike (it was a great trip!!)across the country to Victoria and I would make up my mind on the way. Needless to say, I ended up marrying JP in July of 1970 and a beautiful little girl was born in mid-September.

I think that's enough for today.

Barbara <><