I’m taking a year off from work. That way I can work at regaining some health. That has been a difficult task over the post-COVID years. The low carb carnivore and keto-carnivore ways of eating have been keeping me healthy enough to injure myself with working too hard. I think if I hadn’t looked after my nutrition in these years, I probably would have died.
I got quite unwell during January. So unwell that it was at the level where it’s best not to burden anyone close with the telling of it.
This year I was laying in the Emergency Department looking at the heart monitor. My blood pressure was low 107/78 and my heart rate was about 150bpm. My heart rate was actually switching between 50 and 150. My hands and feet were swelling and my lungs were filling with fluid. So I decided it was time to get this sorted out. I’m not yet 60 years old. Mrs. Bear was upset. The ER doctor looked very stern.
I lost about 7L of fluid, about 7kg in a week on the medications. But the doctor is insisting on beta-blockers. I halved the dose, otherwise I couldn’t get out of bed. Today I feel fine. My feet are normal size. I was out in the sunshine cleaning and refilling the birdbaths. I can breathe. I have lost 4 inches from my waist circumference and can easily get up put of bed without a struggle.
It takes a lot of paperwork and admin to get a year off work. Mrs. Bear wanted me to quit and we would sell the farm. But it seems quite a few levels of management don’t want a loyal employee (who almost worked himself to death) to give up the job. It turns out I have income protection insurance and they want a pile of paperwork as well. It’s a full-time job being unwell.
Anyhow, my eating is very strict. I am getting outside, and also writing and creating art. So, despite the broken heart, life is good. Other things in the world aren’t that important.
Scotch fillet steak tonight, cooked in butter. My aim for this month is to reduce the stubborn visceral fat inside me that won’t shift while I am under chronic work stress.
Here is a postcard from the homestead. My Labrador likes eating carrots and apple (I don’t). But when she chews the carrots the cat runs up and rubs the bowl like it’s catnip. The red flowers are blossoms on a gum tree that signal our second summer season if we work by the indigenous people’s calendar. The large black cockatoos are rare and going extinct due to human stupidity and avarice. They are magnificent and intelligent birds running out of time, as was I.