127 days ago, I stared at that button for 20 minutes.
'Whatever doesn't work, I'm the only one who falls for it again. I can't survive another disappointment.
My LDL was 198. My HDL had been stuck at 42 for eight years. My cardiologist had the dose increase pad out at every appointment for two years.'
But I also thought: I can't keep going like this.
So I clicked. Hands shaking. Distinctly certain I was making a mistake.
Day 7, my hands were warm for the first time in three years. I held my coffee mug with one hand. I hadn't done that in months. I looked at my hand wrapped around the handle and I didn't know what to do with it. I checked it three times — opened my fingers, closed them, opened them again.
Week six. Walked the stairs at the office. Two flights. Reached the top and stopped. No aching. No fog hitting me at the top. Stood at the top for thirty seconds just... standing there. Texted my sister: 'I just walked up two flights of stairs without stopping.' She knew exactly what that meant.
Twelve weeks. Full labs. LDL 148, down from 198. HDL 57, up from 42 — the first movement in eight years. Triglycerides 142, down from 211. My cardiologist looked at the panel. Then at me. Then at the panel. 'Whatever you changed — keep doing it. I'm not increasing your dose today.'
It's the small things that get me. Not dreading the next lipid panel. Not watching my husband's face when the nurse reads the numbers. Not managing three separate markers that were always one problem.
I don't know where you are right now. Maybe the same tunnel I was in. Maybe you're thinking 'she got lucky, but it won't work for me.'
I thought that too.
127 days ago I clicked that button. Today I'm living a life I forgot I could have.
Whatever you decide, I'm waiting for you.
— Diane