After two periods, Edmonton leads 3-0. There’s still plenty of time to blow it. Stay strong, hockey fans who hate the Panthers.
Bring us that game seven, Oilers. Hold that lead.
I just finished the season finale of Doctor Who. It was so good. It was so very good. I’m going to have to watch it again because I am really tired and I might have missed a few seconds here and there. Over all though? It was so good.
The Oilers have a 1-0 lead over the Panthers after one period. They are dick teasing me. We all know that, right? Ugh.
My stomach played nicely today. Good job, surgically redesigned stomach pouch. Everything was very predictable. My hunger pains hit me right on schedule. Also, I didn’t over eat at the end of the work day and ruin dinner. Good job, Robbie’s little pouch thing.
Want to know what did ruin dinner? Just before 8:00 I had a bite of potato. The roasted potatoes we had tonight tasted AMAZING, but that last bite got stuck. Trigger the foamies. Trigger a little nausea. It’s been an hour and fifteen minutes and it doesn’t seem to have cleared yet. I still feel like that last bite of potato is stuck. I was able to cough some of it up, but clearly not all of it.
Damn it.
Okay. It’s after 9:00. I should be clear to watch the season finale of Doctor Who now. I have a little spit-up cup next to me (TMI), I have a gamecast of the hockey game from NHL.com open, and I need to do something to distract myself from my stomach pouch whatever it is. Doctor Who should do the trick.
Further updates will be provided. Come on, Oilers. Hold that lead, you sick little monkeys.
The Stanley Cup Final.
Game six.
It’s about to start.
Edmonton trails three games to two. They are trying to come back after being down three games to none. Realistically there is zero chance of that. They aren’t winning this series. They aren’t winning the cup.
Still… it would be nice to have another game after tonight, wouldn’t it? Seven games are better than six right?
Come on, Oilers. Prolong the agony. Pretty please.
I have made it through lunch. I think I am mostly okay.
As expected, at about 11:00am today I started feeling uncomfortable. I had a snack of a protein bar and felt better. I then had a second snack and felt a lot better. I finished that by 11:37, which seemed a little too close to lunch for comfort, but I was feeling okay so I thought it was worth the risk of spoiling lunch. I started eating lunch at 1:09. I wasn’t feeling all that hungry, but I wanted to power through to stay on something like a schedule, and to put off another empty stomach ache issue for a little while longer. I had some microwaved chicken and some peanuts. I finished at 2:01, feeling a little stuffed. That was half an hour ago and I still feel a little uncomfortably full. I’m okay though.
The bigger concern right now is that something like five of the last six nights, including last night, I failed to get six hours of sleep. I’m tired. I feel really tired. I need to find a project for the second half of the work day that I can really dig into and be too enthralled to worry about being sleepy. I think I know just the thing to work on.
I expect to start feeling hunger pains at a little after 5:00. That’s normal. I just have to make sure I don’t over do it if I need to have a snack. I don’t want to ruin dinner again. I probably will, just out of nerves about the way the last couple of days have gone, but hopefully I can keep things under control until I get home. I miss my wife a lot today, and I want to have a nice dinner with her.
Hello folks, here comes another gastric bypass post. Another my-digestive-system-is-no-longer-quite-human sort of post. Sorry. Just bare with me. There will be a cat photo or two as well. Your patience will be rewarded with little four legged fur balls.
Okay…
I’ve mentioned at least 100 times over the past two years that being hungry hurts now. I eat breakfast. All is well. Three hours later I start having a stomach ache. I eat a snack and the stomach ache goes away. I eat lunch, then three hours later I have a stomach ache. &etc, &etc, &etc*. I told my doctor about it. She smiled at me as if to say, “duh!” without actually saying, “duh” and said, “right… you’re hungry.”
My response was, “Huh… duh.”
The downside, of course, is that I can no longer tell if I am having stomach pain because I am hungry, or if I am having stomach pain because something is wrong. I have to have something to eat to know for sure. If I have a snack and the pain vanishes then it means I was just hungry. If I have a snack and the pain stays the same or (more likely) gets worse, then something is wrong. It’s simple and all, but it does up my stress level a little when it happens.
On the days when I work from the office, I usually finish lunch at around 2:00pm. The hunger pain hits at around 5:00pm. It’s not always three hours. Sometimes it’s a little more, sometimes it’s a little less. Every so often it’s a lot less and I am feeling it at two hours. I guess it depends on what the last thing I ate was. So at work, I eat until 2:00, then around 5:00 I’m hungry enough to feel discomfort so I have something to eat. Usually I wait until I am in the car heading home. Everything is fine at that point except…
On those drives home, I often find that I eat a little too much. By the time I get home I am plenty full and I have ruined my dinner. I usually have a little to eat for dinner with Jen, but not a lot. Two days ago, when I got home I was really stuffed. I cooked dinner for Jen but I didn’t have anything for myself. I managed to have a snack an hour or so later and then fell asleep really early. I ended up going a long time without any food. I mentioned in a post yesterday that I woke up around 2:30am with a stomach ache and I had to have a snack before I could go back to sleep.
Did skipping dinner on Wednesday night mess me up? That’s my question now.
Yesterday I could not get ahead of things. I ate breakfast and was feeling empty stomach pain about an hour and a half later. That felt WAY too soon. I had a snack and then felt it again an hour later. That went on all day. I just couldn’t get out ahead of it. I think I had four or five instances of empty stomach pain throughout the day. I had a pretty substantial snack before I went to sleep. That was at 10:00pm. I was asleep a little before 11:00pm and I was feeling fine.
Until I woke up with a stomach ache at 2:00am. That lead to the usual question: Am I hungry or is there something wrong? I had a snack. I was just hungry. That’s two days in a row where I needed food in the two o’clock hour. Let us hope that this is not the start of a trend here. I don’t want to do this again. Clearly I will if I have to, but I really do not want to.
We’ll see how it goes today. I had a pretty big breakfast (for me) in the car on the way to work today. I finished it at 8:11am. Let’s see how I feel around 11:00am today. Hopefully I won’t be hurting until well after that. Fingers crossed.
Now, as promised… when I got up at 2:00am, Robin Sparkles the Cat was sitting on the cat tree in the living room, right near the pantry closet where I keep my snacks. It was like she was waiting for me. Good kitty.
And just for completeness sake, before I left the house at 7:30am today, I opened some windows. Lily Pad the Kitty took the opportunity to pose for me, so here’s a picture of her as well. Good kitty.
*That is the correct, deprecated way to abbreviate the word “etcetera” isn’t it? Was it &etc or was it &ct? I tried googling but didn’t see anything. I know it’s been hundreds of years since that abbreviation was considered proper English grammar, but I’m old and stuffy so I want to bring it back.
I am running late this morning and should not take the time to write this post until later when I am caught up with life. I have an answer for this one though. Not a sarcastic bird flip of an answer, an actual honest answer and I want to get it down before I do anything else.
I am huge. I used to be super tall and incredibly fat. Then I had my stomach ripped to shreds by a professional and now I am super tall and a less death defying weight. I’m still huge though. I have always been huge. Even when I was a tiny person. I was always taller than almost all of the kids my age (though I was never the tallest in my class) and I was always wider than almost all of the kids my age. It was noticeable by all, and many a person commented on it, thinking they were being clever and conversational when they were in fact being complete fucking assholes.
But I digress.
My mother was often asked by strangers what she fed me to make me so big. Hey strangers… fuck you. My mother had a standard answer: Peanut Butter. Let’s face it, dear readers, I loved me some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Like… I loved them. I was such a big fan that you could probably make an argument that peanut butter was literally (and by literally I clearly mean figuratively) my first love, but that would be incredibly gross so let’s not go there.
I still love peanut butter. I really do. I have not had it since the gastric bypass surgery. It’s not something that I cannot eat. It doesn’t have any of the things that mess me up when I eat them. I’m still a little scared of how I would react to it though. I am afraid the sticky nature of peanut butter would cause it to get hung up getting into my new stomach pouch thing and it would trigger a bad case of The Foamies. One of these days I will try and and see how it goes, but I am a little gun shy about it so I won’t be trying it today.
The result of all of this though, is that when I do eat peanut butter it definitely makes me feel like a kid. It makes me feel like a kid who is ashamed of himself to the point of self loathing because some random fucking stranger in some random department store thinks I am so fat and disgusting that they have to comment on it. Hey strangers in the random department stores… Fuck You.
I have spoken.
While driving home from our Indian Restaurant dinner date, we got caught in a massive heatwave breaking thunderstorm. It was so crazy we had to pull over and wait it out.
I tried to throw together an it’s raining out playlist but we didn’t have any signal so I failed. It was going to have Who’ll Stop the Rain by CCR and Let it Rain by Eric Clapton, and Love Reign O’re Me by The Who, even though that’s a homonym for rain. It still counts.
My love and I are having a date night at an Indian restaurant.
The bird feeders are full. All except for the one little one that came with the pole that is too wide to put seed into without it all just falling out. I don’t know what’s supposed to go there. I’ll figure it out… someday.
The white plastic bowl looking thing is supposed to be full of water. I figured it would have rained by now because it always rains around here. We might get a thunderstorm tonight, so it should fill up then.
Everyone in America, and possibly on Earth, loved Alan Alda as Hawkeye Peirce in M*A*S*H. Seriously. We’re talking national treasure here.
For me, I was like everyone else. Then I saw the movie. One watch was all it took. From that moment on, in my head when I thought of Hawkeye Peirce, I thought of Donald Sutherland. Every time. No exceptions. Alan Alda? Phenomenal as that character. Donald Sutherland? Better. I have spoken.
To our kids, Donald Sutherland will always be the bad guy in The Hunger Games. To me? Hawkeye.
Inside the Red Head's Head 