Now, that sounds terrible, but it's a really good thing. It means I'm finally making progress in conquering the ascites. That's the crazy accumulation of fluid in my abdomen, an ongoing gift from my earlier liver and kidney failures.
Not only does this mean my body, and in particular liver and kidneys, are steadily improving, it has vastly improved my mobility. Imagine being at the weakest point in your life, and someone throws a 60 pound belt on you. Yeah, that's where I was at.
At 168 pounds now, I am a bit lighter than an MMA welterweight, which was always my fighting weight anyway. In grade nine.
There's still lots of fluid in me, and I've lost so much muscle mass, I'll admit I'm a bit worried about what my actual body weight is. Despite an absolutely voracious appetite - I probably eat about 7 protein and carb packed meals every day- my little chicken arms and legs suggest I might literally be a lightweight at this point.
At 168 pounds now, I am a bit lighter than an MMA welterweight, which was always my fighting weight anyway. In grade nine.
There's still lots of fluid in me, and I've lost so much muscle mass, I'll admit I'm a bit worried about what my actual body weight is. Despite an absolutely voracious appetite - I probably eat about 7 protein and carb packed meals every day- my little chicken arms and legs suggest I might literally be a lightweight at this point.
But, with the fluid getting under control, it also means I'm more likely to start sooner in the intensive rehabilitation program, which I really need to help me rebuild all the muscles lost from steroid use and the hospital stays.
I'm actually now off the steroids entirely, which is great. Though on top of all else, as an extra kick in the pants, the steroids gave me a hopefully-temporary diabetes. But this seems to be getting under control now as well.
I need to throw out special thanks to my physioterrorist, Becky. She kicks my ass every day. But she keeps me going and getting stronger. People like this make a big difference in one man's life.
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| Becky, my wonderful, evil physioterrorist, with an innocent smile. |
TEN PERCENT
If you have a moment, check out the story of Mark Newman, diagnosed with a rare melanoma and given a ten per cent chance.
Stories like help me accept my one-in-three shot. Unfortunately, some people don't even get my odds.
BLOG MOVING
Please note this blog will soon be moving. As readership expands across the world, let's grow the blog page as well. Forwarding information will of course be made available. Thanks.
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