What’s cooler than cool?

Making the front page of ICHC for the first time EVER.t

Let’s talk more about my surgery, k?

I’m sure you’re all sick and tired of this subject, but it’s really all I have to write about these days. My life is consumed with finding fun ways to entertain Maddie and thinking about food.

So, it’s been nine days since my surgery. That’s it. Nine. It feels like forever. I honestly can’t remember what it was like to just eat whatever, whenever. According to my scale, I’ve lost about 17 lbs. (I’m waiting for my weigh-in at my two week post-op appt on Tuesday to update my ticker.) I haven’t lost anything in the last five days, though, and that’s frustrating. I feel like I’m the only one for whom the surgery won’t work. Despite having my guts rearranged and mutilated, I’m still going to be fat. Apparently, this is a very common thought for us post-oppers. We’re used to failing at every single weight-loss attempt we’ve ever made. Why should this surgery be any different, right?

Physically, I’m feeling pretty good. I’m not taking any kind of pain reliever anymore. I’ve got some deep muscle aches in my belly, but it’s nothing serious. Just soreness that will eventually go away. I’m tired a lot lately. I want to take a nap every single day, but rarely do. I don’t know if it’s because I’m still healing, or because I’m living on less than 300 calories a day. Maybe a bit of both? Mornings are the hardest part of the day for me. I wake up starving and nauseous. I feel like my blood sugar is low and I need to EAT, however, I’m too queasy to do so. I’m still searching for the perfect morning drink that will raise my sugar without dumping or getting sick. I haven’t dumped or vomited yet, but I’ve been so sick to my stomach that I have to go lie down for a while. It’s extremely unpleasant.

I’m still firmly in the “what the hell have I done?” camp. I haven’t lost enough weight for it to be worth it yet. And with this little stall that I’ve got going, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen anytime soon. I told Gerald last night that if I had the opportunity, I’d go back in time to two weeks ago and not have the surgery.  Here’s to hoping that I don’t feel this way in six months.

think, think, think

I laid awake last night thinking about this meet up idea. It seems you’d all be interested in doing it, but would you REALLY want to? Because, if you do, I’m pretty sure I can arrange something. How hard can it be? We pick a place, pick a weekend and the menfolk will stay home with the kids. Done and done.

We could go some place cool like Vegas. Or some place on the East Coast like Boston or even NY or DC. We could hit the beach in FL, or meet in the middle of the country in KS. Then, we’d just have to pick a weekend. How about the end of September? Or maybe the beginning of November before all the holiday craziness starts. Or even next spring, if we wanted to wait that long.

We can totally do this. We’ll call it DrunkHer. Who’s on board?

Wanna come over and play?

I’ve been sitting here thinking about you this morning. Yes, you. I think you’re really neat and I wish we lived closer. Wouldn’t it be great if you could say, “Shelly and I are seeing a movie tonight?” Or, “Swistle and I are going to Target this afternoon.”

Sometimes I’m astounded by this “Internet.” I mean, have you ever stopped to really think about the fact that we’re conversing with people that we’d otherwise never even know existed? How cool is that? Tessie’s just a hop, skip and a jump from me and I’d never know it if we didn’t blog. Call me quaint, but I think it’s cool that we all get to be a part of each other’s lives in this unique way.

Thanks for hanging out with me. Wanna meet for coffee later?

Hooked on Phonics Worked for Me!

When I was pregnant, I visited a couple of message boards for expectant moms. I thought I’d find some good info, maybe some emotional support. Whatevs. What I found was appalling grammar and horrendous spelling. It was so bad that I had to stop going. I couldn’t get past the crap in order to read the message between the lines. I was convinced the women who posted on these boards must be complete morons. Not ALL of them, of course. But sadly, it was the vast majority.

I don’t know what made me think that bariatric surgery forums would be any better. Dear baby jebus. Between the complete lack of punctuation, to the indiscriminate use of “your,” it’s worse than the pregnancy message boards. It drives me bat shit crazy. Here’s an example post on the forum. I have NOT edited it in any way, shape or form. I’ve just copied and pasted.

ok i have been doing the protein train now for 4 days,and since i am never home my sister,(who feels that gbs is terrible and i almost died),comes to the bakery and proceeds to yell at me telling me that the train is unhealthy.that i am going to get sick. she has not been on my side since my descision to even look into gbs.she is yelling at me that she is going to call the doctor and tell all the bad i am doing to myself on the train..i told her this is the same diet i followed when i first had the surgery ,she yells back that was when it was new .you more nurititment now..i take all my vitamins everyday,and i am getting in 200+/- grams protein a day…..i am right ….right.this is healthy i am doing everything right and i lost 7# which tells me that which i was doing was wrong!

I think my favorite is the word “nurititment.”

I know I’m not the best writer in the world. I make spelling and punctuation errors, but I haven’t completely disregarded the rules of the English language. I really don’t understand why people think things like that don’t matter. Don’t they realize that this is the only impression we’re given of them? They look like idiots. Don’t they care? Don’t they want the point they’re trying to make to be clear and understood? Maybe they’re just ignorant and don’t know any better. Hell. That’s even sadder.

GAH! WHAT is my PROBLEM?

Enough of that self-indulgent pity. Enough whining and crying about poor Erica who can’t eat something she wants. Fuck that.

THIS is life for right now. I can wish it wasn’t until I’m blue in the face, but it’s not going to change. The only thing I can do is go forward one day at a time. I can do it bitching and moaning or I can be grateful for the opportunity. I could just as easily be sitting here with no insurance approval and drowning my sorrows in pizza and getting fatter by the minute.

I CHOSE TO DO THIS. I am not a victim. I am strong, I am capable and I am not defined by food. I may have been in the past, but not anymore. I am going to work the hell out of this surgery and NOTHING is going to stop me. Especially not me.

Up and Down and Up and Down Again

Thursday, I felt pretty good, both physically and mentally. The pain had subsided, I was finding my new groove and things were looking up. On Friday, I mentally feeling great. I ran a few errands and saw my best friend. Physically, I wasn’t doing so well. I had terrible gas pains in my chest ALL DAY LONG. I finally called my surgeon’s office and asked if I was allowed to take some kind of gas-relief pill. I was, and I did. No relief at all. By last night, I was miserable…. And then it got worse. I’m not going into detail because it’s gross. Just trust me that it got worse.

It finally dawned on me that all I’d had to eat that day had been some sort of dairy product. Protein shake, yogurt, cream soup and pudding. Guess what? I’ve got post-bypass lactose intolerance. Apparently, it’s fairly common. The majority of the enzymes that break down lactose are in the section of intestine that has been bypassed. Sometimes it’s temporary, sometimes it’s not.

Normally, this wouldn’t feel like the end of the world. I’d switch to soy milk and move on with life. It’s not like I love yogurt or can even eat ice cream anymore, right? However, until 8/5, I’m on a “full liquid” diet. Other than broth and cream of wheat, all I’m allowed to eat is dairy. To say that this is a crushing blow is a gross understatement. I bawled my damn eyes out this morning at the thought of living on chicken broth and cream of wheat for 9 more days. Even on the so-called “fast” I was allowed more than that!

I’m back in the “what the hell have I done?” place. I’m feeling sorry for myself and grieving the loss of my old life. I just want things to be normal again. I don’t care about being skinny. I don’t care that I’m losing weight. I’m too miserable to enjoy it.

Fun Fact Friday

* I miss holding my baby girl. I miss taking care of her. I miss playing with her.

* I think I might leave the house today. I mean, I actually FEEL like leaving the house today.

* I’m mourning the loss of food. I haven’t had real food in two weeks and I have 10 days to go. I want to chew and swallow. I’m tired of drinking, damn it.

* I lost 11 pounds in the 10 days before surgery and gained it all back on the day of surgery. Gotta love all that I.V. fluid. I’m back down those 11 pounds, now. YAY!

That’s all you’re getting. I got nothing.

WTF is up with Twitter?

Did anyone else’s Twitter just dump all their followers and followees? I’m not following anyone or being followed by anyone anymore. Did you just break up with me? Or is Twitter hosed?

It’s amazing what a satisfying bathroom experience can do for your mood.

I turned a corner today. I’m off the hardcore pain meds and on liquid Tylenol. I’ve, um, expelled quite a bit of gas so the shoulder pain is gone. I was able to drink two whole ounces of a protein shake for lunch, and plan to have more for dinner.

I no longer feel like death is imminent. I’m still feeling pretty rough around the edges, but it’s more like coming off the worst stomach virus/food poisoning you can imagine.  Just kind of puny still.

I’m still not convinced that I made the right choice. I guess only time will tell. I’ve got to relearn how my body works. Things I’ve done for 32 years aren’t possible anymore… that’s kind of a big kick in the face, you know?