Imperfect Progress

I give lots of advice about how to navigate scenarios that present challenges for healthy habits. Travel and caregiving are two. Have a plan. Take a cooler with healthy food for the car or plane.  Delay desserts. Indulge in fun ways that don’t involve food. Self-care is not selfish, and on and on. Easy for me to say.

Recently, I had the opportunity to practice what I preach on both counts.

My husband and I traveled to Oklahoma City in late September. Though it may not be a common vacation destination, it is where we had arranged for Kenny to undergo a hip replacement. Why Oklahoma City? Believe it or not it was one third the cost. (A topic for another conversation.)

Consistent with his usual frugality, my husband arranged our accommodations at one of the lesser expensive hotels, complete with handicapped facilities as recommended by the surgical center.

We flew in at midnight, scooped up the rental car, and GPSd our way to the hotel. Exhausted from trip, cramped airplane, claustrophobic masks, and in anticipation of surgery, we were looking forward to a comfortable, clean room and good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, this hotel delivered neither.

It was dark. It was dank. It was dingy. Instead of being greeted with that chemical clean smell, we were met with eau de ashtray. Obviously, the previous inhabitant smoked cigarettes and lots of them. Despite our disappointment, we started unpacking.

I stared at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth over the small, stained sink. You can do this. My inner self was mustering up the determination to tough it out for the sake of my husband. It’s for a short period of time. You’ve survived worse. There are people who would be over the moon to be out of the elements. This is what your budget can afford. I took a deep breath of the stale air and choked. My commander in chief chimed in. You will be disagreeable, depressed, and depleted trying to cheer yourself up every day. Not to mention, you will stink, and your clothes will stink, too. If you are going to care for your husband, you must care for yourself.

I walked out of the bathroom and  made eye contact with my husband who was seated on the bed deep in thought. Before I could get one word out, he blurted, “Babe, we are not staying here.”

I could have cried; I was so relieved.

Well, we did stay there that night. But stinky clothes in tow, the next morning we scooted out and scouted out one of the other locations on the list. Yes, they had availability. And to our surprise, the price was not much different. We made our way to the room and opened the door cautiously optimistic. It was like we died and went to heaven. Not just a bed and bathroom. But a suite with a kitchenette. We could cook our own food. Do our own dishes. Our home away from home would be comfortable. I did some quick math in my head and calculated the price difference of the rooms along with the cost of eating out every day compared to making our own meals. We may actually save money by being here.

Note to self: in the future when planning a week away, get a room with a kitchenette.

The surgery went smoothly. He had an overnight at the surgery center and was home by noon the next day. We were accompanied with several contraptions: a walker, a machine that compresses the legs to prevent blood clots, and an ice machine. It had been some time since I had waited on someone hand and foot. Water, pain meds, adjust pillows, meal prep, disrupted sleep to attend to needs that pay no attention to time of day.

It gave me a much better understanding of what many of my patients, many of whom are caregivers, go through not just for a week but every day. And it was challenging to attend to my own needs, to keep my usual routine going, let alone his.

My wins:

I found our favorite grocery store and bought real food. I did not buy junk, did not buy fast food.

I walked on the hotel tread mill every day.

I weighed myself on the scale in the hotel gym.

I allowed myself to buy water because the tap water did not taste good.

I kept my zoom appointment with my trainer.

My challenges:

I reverted to cream in my coffee ( I had been drinking it black to get a true fast)

I reverted to three meals/day and ate when my husband ate rather than following my recently adopted intermittent fasting pattern. I ate out twice.

I did not sleep well.

I only exercised half my usual time. And I sat. A lot.

I did not accomplish the work I brought or read any books.

I was not 100% in any category, food, activity, sleep stress management. Was I a failure? When I arrived home and looked at the number on my scale, I had a choice to make: Feel guilty and beat myself up for not being 100%. Or give myself grace.

In my experience, the former never leads to productive changes. But the latter allows me to examine the experience with honesty, ask good questions, and gain clarity.

Feeling guilty and beating myself up spirals down into an abyss of unhealthy choices. And that’s doubly hard to recover from . Giving myself grace helps me get back on track and more readily reclaim healthy habits.

Guilt or grace. What is your impetus for change?