Part of me feels a little foolish for how enthusiastic I was about being told to stop taking the meds. Like I should have known better, tempered my expectations, been realistic. But it really felt like a sign of progress, and I have to admit it’s gotten me a little down thinking about the prospect of maybe having to start the pills up again. Despite all the weight loss and the 5Ks and everything else, I can’t help feeling a bit like I screwed up somehow. That there was something I should have done and haven’t.
But I’m shrugging all that off now. It could be the issues with my kidneys are such that the medicine will be necessary no matter what I do. If so, the weight loss clearly helped, and isn’t something to be cast aside simply because of some minor setback. If the price for a healthy life is half a pill once I day, I’ve got no business complaining. My insurance covers them, they don’t have any nasty side effects, and they’re not the size of jawbreakers. It could a lot more difficult, especially when I think about Jillian having to jab herself with a needle every week.
The important thing is that I’m better off than I was five years ago. And I’m not going to let having to take a pill unwrite all that. Besides, worrying about it will just raise my blood pressure, and that’s the last thing I need.