I made two doctors appointments today. One is just a quickie to drop off some paperwork and take some vitals. The other is a zoom meeting.
I told myself that I wasn’t going to write about this… then changed my mind… then changed my mind again… and now I am changing it again. The appointments are to start the process for weight loss surgery. The idea of mutilating my internal organs in the name of health scares the fucking shit out of me (literally?). 20 years of nothing but negative progress in my attempts to get healthier is currently scaring me even more. A lot more. Almost infinitely more. My step kids were six and four years old when I met them for the first time. I missed out on a ton. I don’t want to miss out on any more because I was not able to get my weight down and it caused my heart to explode. Fuck.
So the first appointment is booked and I am freaking out. Also, the first appointment doesn’t happen until mid-January so I am freaking out about that too. Covid-19 forced us to punt on Harry’s high school graduation trip to Disney World last year. The make up date is currently sometime in January 2023. I don’t want to still be in some weakened recovery phase of this process when the trip date comes around. I’d rather delay than screw up scheduling. Granted Omicron is already hinting at a fucked up 2022 to rival the fucked up 2021 and 2020. Fuck. Who knows what’s going to happen.
Anyway… as of right now I think I am going to share my thoughts and experiences on this whole process as they happen, which means you aren’t going to hear a peep for almost two months. I’ll probably change my mind a few dozen times between now and then so you might not get a post about it until it happens. Or, maybe I’ll wait a year after it happens and then just post a selfie of an unrecognizable, healthier me (that is the goal, right?).
Cross your fingers and hang on to your butts, and come along and freak the fuck out with me.
I wrote “fuck” a lot in this post. Oh well.