There’s no diet like fear

I’m a foodie. I love sharing an excellent meal and a good bottle of wine with friends. Set us in a fine restaurant, where none of us is burdened by hours of preparation and cleanup, and that’s my idea of heaven. I’ve always enjoyed reading restaurant reviews and collecting recipes, and for much of my life I also enjoyed cooking, although that’s lost its luster now that I mostly eat alone.

The dark side of my relationship with food is how I use it to stifle anxiety. I tend to greet stress with a pint of ice cream. Combine that with many hours each day sitting in front of a computer and you can appreciate that my waistline suffers.

I started a new exercise regimen about two months ago. Exercise is nothing new to me. I’ve always found ways to keep fit, and enjoyed doing so. Unfortunately though, that hasn’t stopped the slow progression of higher numbers on the bathroom scale. This new program involves short intervals of high exertion alternating with slow cooldown periods to regain a resting heart rate, the premise being that this ultimately burns more body fat than a single long, continuous session of moderate effort.

It may be too early to tell for sure, but this new exercise plan seemed to have a positive effect: about a pound a week for six or seven weeks.

Then came the diagnosis.

I’ve continued to exercise these past two weeks, but of significance is what’s happened to my appetite. I keep forgetting to eat! My insides are in such turmoil and sometimes I choke on thoughts of food.

My first course of chemotherapy starts tomorrow and I don’t know what’s going to happen once I'm taking strong drugs into my system. I've heard chemo can have cumulative effects, so I may not know my reaction for a while. My doctor has said this treatment shouldn't make me sick, so I'm trying not to speculate.

For now I'll just welcome the opportunity I've already been given to kick my metabolism into a higher gear.