Stylin' Friday: Lipodystrophy, Part II

I have been struggling with changes to my body shape over the last two to three years. So here I'm going to mix some explanatory prose with a small series of limericks to talk about some of the impacts that this has had on me. And then, if you read the previous post, I will finally get to the crowing.

At a certain time about two years before I was finally diagnosed, I very suddenly lost about twenty pounds. At the time, I welcomed it and attributed it to my having become much more active by joining a gay and lesbian country dancing club, which I adored and went to at every possible moment. In retrospect, this was probably the moment at which my immune system really starting losing the battle against HIV. Flash forward to the diagnosis I sometimes refer to as 'zero to AIDS' in a few short minutes: I developed PCP (pneumocystis carinii pneumonia), an AIDS related opportunistic infection, and then I got tested for HIV, already knowing what the outcome would be. But I've talked about that in a previous post.

In the early years of being treated, I did gain back the twenty pounds I had lost earlier, but that where I stayed. I felt like I could pretty much eat what I wanted and either the virus or the treatments would take care of the excess. This brings us to our first limerick:

For years, it was 'eat what you want'
The virus risks making you gaunt
So indulge while you're here
But watch your back, dear
The habits will come back to haunt

Then I started to notice the hump growing on my back. I made a few changes in my life, like quitting smoking to get better control of my health, but I also gave in to the pain in my hands and feet from psoriatic arthritis and participated less in my beloved country dancing. I also got older (I guess I couldn't really stop that one from sneaking up on me!). I refer to this as a perfect storm of factors — aging (and consequent changes in metabolism), inactivity (sometimes due to pain), quitting smoking (also apparently with impacts on metabolism) and a legacy of taking the same HIV meds very diligently over a period of seven and a half years (at least two of these associated with certain metabolic impacts) — and this perfect storm led to some very rapid weight gain. Limerick number two, maybe?

Quit smoking, ate less…but not great
And put on a whole bunch of weight
Arthritis and AIDS
Made for less active days
Plus maybe a small dash of fate?

I gained what for me was such a nightmarish amount of weight that I have now been thoroughly converted to expressing my weight in kilograms rather than pounds, as it sounds a little less extreme, at least for someone raised on pounds. ;-) To situate this, I used to refer to the 200 pound mark as my 'nightmare weight' and even made sure that my doctor, weighing me once at 199.75 pounds, did not round up when he wrote in my chart! Now that benchmark seems like a distant and happy dream time.

All of this has had a lot of impact on my life. I have had to buy new clothes and new kinds of clothes. Shirts with collars that are not meant to be tucked in: the collars actually help disguise the hump like no t-shirt ever could (and forget about something like a tank top — no more of those for me!) and the mumu approach (untucked shirt, oddly often with tropical patterns) at least makes me feel a little less bulgy, even if it is not fooling anyone else. Physical discomfort at every turn.

The worst part, however, is what I get from other people. I stopped going to my country dancing club after a couple of comments (different people, different occasions) about my weight that I cannot even imagine myself saying to someone. I wrote about that here. I had enough self esteem on those couple of occasions to strike back with comments like: "I can't believe you feel like you can say that to me" and "You're not so thin yourself" but I quickly soured on turning my leisure-time activities into a campaign for tolerance. Leading inevitably to our third limerick:

I've had to buy tons of new clothes
To cover the body that grows
But despite the new style
I just cannot smile
When the comments I get are like those

I became so depressed about my body shape and my isolation (is it self-imposed when going out leads to painful experiences?), that I had a period of extreme depression this summer. I couldn't string together five words without crying. By chance, one of my worst days fell on a day of a visit to my doctor.

Now, I have had various experiences with undiagnosed depression through my life. Like most kids growing up gay or lesbian, especially those of my age, I had to struggle with coming to terms with my sexual orientation and with the ridicule or harassment of my peers. I spent a lot of time in high school considering suicide, but not talking about it lest I have to talk about my underlying struggle. I have also always had a poor body image, even while I am confident in my intellectual and professional self-image. Having HIV doesn't help, and I'm sure that my new HIV meds (or at least one of them) probably shouldn't be taken by someone with a background of depression (pronounced central nervous system side-effects). When I heard tell of a study which suggested that even this 'new to me' medication (I had chosen it about two and a half years ago for its lack of association to metabolic complications) might be associated with certain metabolic complications, I really felt like stopping my meds. "A little wasting might do me some good," I thought. (I wouldn't charge ahead with some notion of stopping my meds without taking care to ensure that I wouldn't develop a resistance to them in the process of stopping.)

My doctor did all the probing for suicidal tendencies with which I am all too familiar from having worked in community-based social service agencies for the last 17 years. Did I have a plan? I kept thinking that if I really had a plan that I was at all serious about carrying out, I wouldn't be talking about it with him. Mostly, I want to be careful to maintain the validity of my life insurance so that my family will derive some financial benefit from their investment in me over the years. I also don't want to hurt them, so it makes the whole suicide thing a bit problematic (especially as I have no doubts about their love and support). Stopping my meds, however, would cause me a slower death from AIDS, which we could all be expecting anyway. (But I have moved on from those thoughts for now.)

At least this time I had some other options. A psychologist I could start seeing, covered by medicare, to help me work through some of these issues. And despite the fact that this post has become inordinately long, I keep promising to crow, and that's the part that's coming up (alas, no limerick!), so I continue.

I made a deal with the psychologist to help me overcome my inertia to start exercising again, and I think it is working well. There are a couple of elements: a pre- and post-exercise diary to record my thoughts and moods surrounding doing the exercises, and a series of photos I will take (only once a week, front and side) to follow my progress over the coming months and years. I am realistic about this process taking a long time and won't be discouraged when this week's photos show no difference from last week's. But I am crowing about the fact that I have managed to do my home exercise routine for four of the last seven days (had a bit of trouble adding it to my mornings on work days, but I did manage to do that yesterday, so there is hope).

I started slowly and did plenty of stretching and I will build up to what I expect from myself over time. But I am doing something and that is worth crowing about.

PS: It took me a long time to come up with a new style for Stylin' Fridays, so I have decided to make a structural change that will also bring me back to a promise from my original post. From now on Fridays will become Fridays en français to help me exercise another part of my brain. Let's see if it will start next week!

Ranting and Crowing

Okay, let's start with the ranting, if only to end on a more positive note.

I get home delivery of a local newspaper on Saturday and Sunday only. You might think that would be pretty simple. Not so fast! Actually, because I am getting an English paper, but I live in a more French part of town, my paper has made an arrangement with one of the French papers to do its delivery here while the english carrers deliver the French paper in a more English part of town.

So imagine my frustration when neither of my two weekend papers got delivered a few weeks ago. In thier place, copies of the French paper (and because I am a bit of a snob, this wouldn't be the one that I would get if I were regularly reading a French paper). I phoned to report my delivery problem each of the two days I was supposed to get the paper, and received a credit for it. Then on the Monday and Tuesday following, I was finding both the English and French papers on my porch (remember that I don't want the English one on weekdays and I never want this French one). So I called again to complain and the English one stopped, but the French one continued for another week. The next weekend, I got half of my English paper (none of the weekend features that actually motivate me to buy it) and ... a French paper. A few days later, I finally managed to get that French paper stopped.

That was until this week. French paper Thursday. French paper Friday. French paper and half of the English paper (again!) Saturday. French paper and my whole Saturday and Sunday English papers Sunday. I feel like I might have to buy some carbon offsets just to compensate for the forest that is being destroyed to deliver papers I don't even want!

On a side note, I have left the French papers in front of my neighbours' door, just in case they actually ordered them or wanted them. They have been stepping over them to get into their apartment, but leaving them there! I shall have to pick them up to put them in the recycling Tuesday morning.

Now I'm so worked up again that I will have to leave the crowing for another time. Good thing I'm taking all that high blood pressure medication! ;-)

Why are the Sensitive Policing Blogs?

It remains quite fascinating to me that someone out there seems to be patrolling and systematically objecting to the content of a number of blogs that I enjoy reading. Take that as commentary on the things I like to read, but I would think that there are enough other distractions on the internet for one to be able to just go somehwere else rather than flagging content as objectionable and forcing it into hiding behind a warning screen.

One of the blogs I have listed on the right side of my page, The Great Cock Hunt, is so well hidden away that clicking on the 'I understand and I wish to continue' button will not even get you in.

In a fit of pique, I tried my own policing activities, searching for intolerant Christian blogs (I don't object to all Christians, just the intolerant ones who wish to foist their faith on us all) and clicking on the 'Flag Blog' button. Turnabout is fair play, no?

I doubt that I had any impact, and I was not committed enough to record the addresses and go back to see. But if you find yourself with time on your hands, may I suggest an entertaining pastime?...

Anticipation (a pickle story and a life lesson?)

Does it feel a bit like I'm turning this into a food blog? I'm sure I'll get back to whining and complaining about the rest of my life, or — better yet — laughing at the foibles of others, but I'm feeling very upbeat right now about my cooking creations, so I'm sharing them.

I went to my local open-air market the other day and spied some lovely fresh dill being sold in big bunches and about three or four feet tall. I always feel like I see the dill too early in the season for the stuff you might want to use it with, so this was a fabulous coincidence: right product at the right time. I stocked up on that and pickling cucumbers, zucchini, hot peppers, etc. and had a couple of occasions making pickles.

Two views of the ingredients:

(sneaking up on them)


(aerial view)

And two views of the products:

(sneaking up on them)

(labelled view)

So why is this post called 'anticipation'? Because as smug as I feel about how they all sealed and look good (at least to me), I have to wait a few weeks before they will be ready to taste. I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before the people responsible for the bread-cheating machine (derisive commentary on the technology) will invent some kind of instant pickle kit to give people the illusion of having made their own pickles, ready in minutes.

This all reminds me of a book one of my sisters was reading about the French surveyors charting where the equator passes through South America. I'm sure I'll get the facts wrong, but the sense of it is similar.

One of the surveyors was arranging to meet his wife, who he hadn't seen in years. He caught wind of news, however, that if he crossed the border into Brazil he risked being arrested because of a conflict between Brazil and France and suspicion about what he was actually doing. So he stopped where he was and sent the boat ahead to rendez-vous with his wife. She was delayed, so the boat waited at the rendez-vous point for TWO YEARS. With other similar delays, they were finally reunited, having been apart for several years, but each waiting patiently for the conditions to align themselves to bring them back together.

Can you imagine, in our own time, anyone waiting outside a cinema for longer than a half-hour for the friend who was supposed to be her/his movie companion?

Our instant gratification culture lacks patience.

Après ça, le déluge

At last, the final benefit (well, probably not the final benefit) of my lovely new fridge.

I dug out the ice cream maker that I bought from a former colleague many years ago when she was moving and I have had the metal cylinder in the freezer for weeks, just waiting for me to get around to making my first ice cream. Here is the product of my labour. sprinkled with a few raspberries that were in my fridge, having see somewhat better days (but still tasty).

Now I feel downright accomplished and will have to start sharing more of my cooking (and food preparing more generally) here.

I was seriously concerned that this first ice cream might not work out. I wasn't sure just how long to cook it; I put it into the fridge still a bit warm; I left it there way too long (actually went out to see a play and came back after it had been in the fridge for four hours rather than the recommended one!). But yum! The results were worth all the risk-taking.

Walking with the Hump

So today was Ça Marche, our annual AIDS fundraising walk.

I'm happy to say that everything, or almost everything, was perfect for it: bright and sunny; cool yet not cold; a reasonable turnout; and the Farha Foundation (organizers of Ça Marche) did a really good job of having a diversity of entertainment along the way, snacks, beverages and even bubbles at a surprising number of spots (is it possible to gain weight while walking 7 km? I think it might be!) and even swag for those of us who had raised a certain amount of money.

Yes, I did attain Star Walker status again, raising (as of this morning) $2,195 by mail and via the internet (which is almost the same in U.S. dollars these days!). That's a bit shy of my goal and my last year's total, but I also know that I have some more donations coming to me by mail and on the event web site. If anyone reading this wants to add to that, click here to donate and I shall be most eternally grateful! ;-)

Not only does every dollar go to help support the many programs of my organization, AIDS Community Care Montreal, but it might help me in my personal challenge to groups within the organization. You see, each year, I challenge any group of 8 people to raise more than I do alone and I will make a cake for the group. Last year, two cakes! This year, I might be risking as many as four (which is good news about the efforts of these other teams, and I am happy to do it…but let's not make it easy for them!) The fun part was the inventiveness of their online team names, like the one by the ACCM Board: A Chocolate Cake, Monteith! (Which, if you are swifter than I was when I first saw it, also spells out the acronym of the organization, ACCM).

So now I'm home, taking a bit of time to nurse my feet back to relative health, and getting ready to make pickles! Yay! (But that's another entry, isn't it?!)

Why do I feel like Chicken Little?

Okay, so it isn't the sky, but the street which is falling. Or in danger of falling. For anyone who might be wondering just what I am talking about, you can read the actual news story here.

It's just the latest chapter in the history of our crumbling infrastructure, but an extreme example of hundreds of stores and offices closed indefinitely, along with the central portion of the green line of the Métro, because some leaking water has betrayed the existence of a giant crack in the slab of concrete supporting a block of the street above a Métro access tunnel.

Let's step back and look at this from the beginning.

That's too far! The crack you see there is the river around our lovely island, the only thing protecting us from the great hordes of the 450 area code around us! No, to focus in on the affected area, you have to get a lot closer.

Here is the same area, seen in panorama from street level:

Yes, this is downtown, next to the store the old timers in the city still refer to as Morgan's (we have a habit in Montréal of calling things by their old names, like we want to confuse the tourists), and next to the big office tower built next to the Anglican Christ Church Cathedral. The old timers among us will again recall some tidbits of history regarding the church and the building of the tower beside it and the mall beneath it.

First, the church has a kooky monument next to it which, as it turns out, is the former steeple. It seems the church was built on a swamp and the original steeple was too tall and too heavy for the land below to support, so it started leaning. They removed it, replaced it with an aluminum replica that was much lighter, and placed the original steeple on the ground next to the church to make people ask questions.

When the giant construction project was underway, passers-by were treated to this sight:

Not only did they excavate under the historical church to build the mall below, but in the process discovered a rare species of salamander in the historical swamp that halted construction for many months while the little creatures were painstakingly relocated. The other part of the construction story is the fine business sense of the church leaders: the whole project is part of an emphyteutic lease, meaning that ownership of the lucrative mall and office tower in this prime downtown spot will revert to the church at the end of the 99-year period of the lease.

Of course, this might seem less than brilliant at this moment with the area evacuated indefinitely!

These are the fears:

that our traditional attention to street quality


will lead to a larger type of collapse


bringing down not only the gleaming office tower behind the church


but also Morgan's (The Bay for anyone who has arrived in Montréal since the mid-1970's)

all of which will fall inward, collapsing into the McGill Métro station

I do have a suggestion to alter our infamously inscrutable parking signs, replacing this

with something more like this

I'm sure that we're all quite glad that all of that 'infrastructure' money (federal-provincial-municipal funding program) of the last couple of decades was spent on such useful items as hockey and canoe museums instead of on ensuring that half the water we purify doesn't leak into the ground and our streets don't collapse!

At least we don't have flaming balloons falling from the sky and igniting our trailer parks! (The trailer parks are all in the 450 anyway!)