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Fasting along – Day 7 report

Looking at a websearch on what others have shared about fasting, I tripped over a new-to-me phrase that fits well: therapeutic fasting.

Upon finding out that I am fasting, the normal first assumption is that I am working for weight loss. Not that my 6′ 175-pound figure appears to be overly plump, but few can come up with another answer to “Why a person would skip meal after meal for days on end?”

As I begin Day 7 of this fast, I weigh in at 163 … down 12 pounds. However my love handles are still apparent and poochy belly is still there … but those won’t be apparent to others until swim suit season … an event I haven’t seen in years. Besides that, from my experiences with pretty-much annual fasts since 2017, I will gain back five or six pounds within weeks of resuming food consumption. Not all weight lost during a fast is from stored fat, and the body wants that meat part back.

Oh how I want this fast to end. I am really tired of it.

I learned from the past that cutting out my joint and respiratory supplements was bad, so they have been my regular departure from a strict water-only fast. I also found there was no good reason to forgo my delicious super-fresh home-roasted coffee… and suffer the caffeine headache that accompanies withdrawal. Besides that, it is a fair calory-free appetite suppressant.

Oh the temptations are everywhere… not even out of reach. I pass through our kitchen many times a day to and from our primary exit/entrance. The fully stocked refrigerator and pantry would be easy for me to access. Quick, simple meals and snacks are all over the place – to be resisted.

Yesterday found us in Missoula, a rare “big city run” triggered by my wife’s post-op appointment. It worked out that I topped off our dog food supply at Costco, snagging up odds and ends for the pantry while I was at it. About every 20 yards was someone operating an electric frying pan wafting delicious aromas and offering lovely-looking food samples.

It would have been incredibly easy to scarf several of each and grab armloads of whatever ingredients were being hawked. Gol-dang, at least a third of that massive warehouse has stuff I could eat. Somehow I didn’t. I dazzled my wife and another who heard the tale because I averted my eyes, my mind, and walked on by with my fast unscathed.

As I mentioned a few days ago, when normal meal times arrive, the biological clock rings alarms loud and clear… EAT! EAT! EAT! I have said, and believed that once the Ketosis state takes over supplying fuel, lust for food noticeably drops off. That does not seem to be happening this time.

I am definitely ready to resume glorious, delicious, savory food consumption.

What keeps me going is the health improvement progress I am seeing and a couple of improvements I would like to see before I give up this healing regimen. Alligator skin on my hands and arms looks much smoother and flakes are gone. Other skin anomalies are mostly cleared up. Left throat thyroid has shrunken to normal; right is at least half-way there. Sore throat is gone. Sinus activity has greatly improved to what I’ll call “minimal”. Same for chest congestion – a great improvement from the bronchitis, fever and shortness of breath I had 8 days ago.

However, the congestion is not GONE. The right thyroid is not yet normal. The skin on my face is not fully cleared.

And I currently have my body in its super powerful Ketosis healing mode.

I must continue to remind myself that it would be a shame to abandon this trajectory when I am apparently quite close to accomplishing every goal I began with.

We will see. I just made it through my 7th circadian breakfast cycle with the fast unscathed. Dinner time is harder for me. Even if I quit tonight, I will still give myself at least One Attaboy for what I did do.

On a very much related note, I am reasonably aware of what the certificate-sporting white coats would have done to me had I offered my body’s ailments up for their interventions. The resultant Ted would be a lot less healthy, quite likely permanently damaged with their prescriptions, and odds-on requiring pharmaceuticals and more MD interventions for as long as this body lasted.

Doc Og

Thanks anyway, but I’ll stick with my caveman doctor.

Note to Big Brother: this does not constitute medical advice. It is merely a recitation of my own experiences with links to related experiences of others.

DEAR READERS are encouraged to seek approved medical advice. Doc Og is not widely available. You are on your own.

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