I realize that the last post was more than 1000 words, so I will keep this one short if I can. It probably will not happen, since this is the part where it gets messy and painful and heart breaking.
I left off with my wife's health scares. Lump in her breast, cyst on the thyroid, and a very obscure fungal infection in her lungs that apparently you can only get by inhaling dried chicken shit. We even got a call from the CDC on that one, since it is categorized as an infectious disease. Long story short, the breast lump was nothing, and the fungal infection has all but been eliminated. The thyroid, however, is a bit more complicated and will probably require surgery. But not cancer! Praise Jesus. If you have never gone through a cancer scare, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. The waiting and not knowing is the worst part. You get to a point where you want to know something, ANYTHING. At least you can begin to deal with it.
So this situation caused my wife to really begin to focus on her health. She was overweight as well, though nowhere near as bad as I am, or was. She started eating much better, she got into running, and even her spiritual life improved to the point where she was really on fire for the Lord. It was awesome to see her growing in her faith and getting stronger every day.
Around this time, the end of 2010, early 2011, I began to gain weight again. Old habits crept back into my life, and I found myself more sedentary, less interested in my nutrition, and not enjoying church at all. Spiritually, I was under heavy conviction for some long enduring sin, and I think I started to try to drown out the Holy Spirit with Wendy's and Dairy Queen. FYI, that doesn't really work!
I would get a large peanut butter cup Blizzard on the way home from work every day, eat it in the car, and throw out the cup at a gas station in town before I got home. Or Pop-tarts. Or McDonald's on the way home. Snacking all through the day at work. Cookies, chips, donuts if they were there, not to mention all the candy crap that we make. Fast food for breakfast and lunch. Can after can of Diet Pepsi. The only water that would enter my mouth was used to rinse after I brushed my teeth. Some days I would spend 25 or 30 bucks on food. Then I would eat a full dinner and get ice cream or popcorn for the nights television schedule.
The nice treadmill that my friend Troy bought me sat in the basement, unused. At least by me. My wife was now running 4-5 miles at a time, 3 or 4 times a week and losing weight and getting strong. She begged me to get on the treadmill for 10 minutes, 3 times a week. I would start, do it for a couple of days, but then laziness set in and I would blow it off.
Soon I was up to 371 pounds, only 14 less than my pre-surgery weight. I could feel the old symptoms returning. Pain in my joints. Getting hard to breathe as I walk. Chest pain that I did not tell anyone about because if I told someone, I would have to do something about it, face the problem. Sleep apnea getting worse. Clothes not fitting anymore so I would wear uniforms to work and then sweats everywhere else. No energy for anything except riding the couch. No motivation to do anything. Unable to shovel snow or cut the grass for fear of dropping dead of a heart attack.
Because of our financial situation and student loan debt, Cathy had to go back to work. I got her hired as a temp at the factory, on 2nd shift, and she worked that for a while and was hired as a full time employee in mid March. The only problem was that she had to start on 3rd shift and work her way to 2nd and then 1st. I am salary, so I work normal 8 to 5 hours. We only saw each other on the weekends, and didn't share a bed except for Saturday and Sunday night when she was off work. Our personal relationship was rocky, and she was not happy. The start of the job coincided with my blossoming waistline, and the stress of my continued weight gain, the return of the fears that I would die and leave her alone, the physical toll that working 3rd shift takes on a person, as well as the separation from the normal routine of family life, and the constant broken promises I made were the final straws for my wife.
On June 20th she told me she wanted to separate. This wasn't the first time I had heard something like this from her, but it was the first time where I realized that she meant it. I had neglected my responsibilities as a man, husband and father long enough, and she could not take it anymore. I asked (begged) if we could go to counseling with our pastor. She said she would give it 1 month. We went together 1 time, and she went 3 times on her own. I met with my pastor every week alone. Four weeks later she told me that she was going through with the separation, and on August 30th, she moved out of our house into an apartment in town.
Part 3 in a couple of days.
