pulmonary embolism – PART II
Things seemed to be humming along, relatively I guess, back in February 2012. I had managed to lose 16 pounds and stay motivated through the first 60 days or so of my blog. I was about 325 pounds.
March 2012 changed all that.
After getting back from a huge cheer competition in Dallas, and after having walked all over the city with unknown blood clots in my leg, the worst happened. I found myself tired, barely able to breathe, and struggling to workout. I thought I had caught something. After a week of trying to fight it, I finally relented and went to the ER. I knew by their faces immediately. Pulmonary embolism. I had been through this all just 5 years earlier, but this time was much different.
Aside from the sheer luck it takes to survive an attack like mine, it left me damaged. After 8 days in intensive care, I was finally released. The recovery from that was so unlike my first PE. I spent the next 6 months fighting a tiredness not many people get to experience.
It wasn’t a sleep deprived tired. It was the kind that makes you want to nap because you spent so much energy walking to the other side of the house. I recall one specific moment. I had gone to Walmart to buy sweet potatoes. I was in line to checkout, holding maybe 4 large potatoes in a bag. I was so winded from carrying that single bag, that I had to set them down and rest. And this was months after I had been released.
As you can imagine, that took its toll. I did eventually recover, but not before the damage was done. I had gained 50 pounds in the first 4 months. My body was wrecked. Enter the fall into depression.
Trying to start a workout program that big is like trying to swim in sand. It took so much energy just to get off the couch. I became so deconditioned that walking around the block became a chore. I learned to hide it well. I became efficient.
And so here I am, almost 4 years later. I haven’t done much but wallow and sink further into depression.
I have retained a few of the last posts I made from 2012 below this. I like to read them occasionally and see the red flags that were pointing to my blood clots and eventual embolism. Workouts had became stubbornly lumbering and slow. I wasn’t able to even finish them on several occasions. Something had changed, but I didn’t see it.
It almost killed me.