My Gut’s Last Day

Hello and welcome to Tuesday May 3, 2022. The last full day with my stomach and small intestine working in their DNA designed manner.

At some point tomorrow my digestive system will have an entirely new workflow.

I’m on my pre-op liquid diet and I’m literally afraid to do anything. They told me I can have all the protein shakes I want today, but should I? What if a bit of powder doesn’t dissolve right and it acts like food and sits in my stomach and they have to postpone?

Right. Relax, red head. Go drink a shake, you paranoid doofus.

The Moment is Almost Here

Jen and I had dinner together. We also had dessert. I had more dessert than I’m willing to admit, but I wasn’t too bad. Just mildly bad.

The shit is about to get really real. It’s 9:00pm. In three hours my liquids-only diet starts. 24 hours after that I’ll be fasting until the surgery.

I’ll find out tomorrow afternoon when the start time will be. I’m hoping earlier rather than later. I want to get it over with, you know?

Be prepared for frequent, nervous posts followed by a black out sometime on Wednesday. I don’t want to try to post anything while I’m goofed up on anesthetic, you know?

Two days. Panicking in so many subtle ways.

10 Minutes to Go

10 minutes until quittin’ time on this chilly, cloudy Thursday in April.

I really need a haircut. We’re talkin’ desperately need a haircut. I should really go and take care of it on the way home tonight, but guess what I am not going to do. I’ve been in the office all day and I just want to get home and see my brilliant, beautiful wife.

I could try to go tomorrow before my doctors appointment, but I think we can all agree that isn’t happening either. Depending on how long the “class” takes, I might be able to squeeze one in before I have to punch into work. That’s a definite possibility.

I don’t want to go over the weekend because Covid-19 is still a thing even though no one acts like it anymore. Well, no one but me and Jen at least. Maybe not no one, but you dig what I’m saying. If I have to I could probably do it before work on Monday. Not Tuesday though. On Tuesday I’ll be on my clear liquids only diet and I’ll be freaking out.

So I’ll have it done by Monday.

The other big question coming up… if my Surgery is on Wednesday, when am I going to get a chance to see the season finale of MoonKnight? I might watch it when Disney+ posts it at 3:00am Eastern time because I sure as shit am not going to be sleeping much. We’ll see. They are going to call me on Tuesday to tell me what time the surgery is booked. I won’t know before then. Just a little tiny thing adding to the little tiny (Himalayas sized) stress.

Yippee!

Lunch Break

I’ve been eating too much at lunch. I’ve been eating too much at dinner. I’ve been eating too much after dinner. The rest of the day is generally aces.

We’re six days away from the surgery. Gastric Bypass. It sounds like road construction and to a degree it is. I’ve probably said this a few times before, but as scared as I am of having my guts chopped up I am more afraid of what comes after. This isn’t just a cosmetic surgery thing where you loose tons of weight and then carry on with your life. The surgery itself is just one small part of the process. You need to follow it up by completely changing everything. That’s what’s stressing me out today. Well… that’s part of it.

I have an appointment tomorrow morning. It’s the first of a series of classes where they will teach me what to do when I get home. I have to relearn how to eat and drink. I have to relearn how to prepare food. I have to relearn how to react when my guts talk to me. Miss a hint from your insides and end up praying to the porcelain god for an hour. that sort of thing. The first class covers living through the first couple of weeks. The second class is the second couple of weeks, and so on and so forth.

I’m doing my best to stay optimistic about the whole thing, but it’s getting hard to focus on the positive. It’s getting hard to focus on anything. I’ll let you know how tomorrow goes. Until then…

Back to work.

Ramping Up the Irrational Fear

My first Psych appointment is one hour and 39 minutes from now. Let’s bring on the irrational fear, shall we? I am super nervous but I cannot say what I am nervous about. What the hell are we going to talk about? Is there something wrong with my brain that will stop me from having the surgery? Is there something wrong with my brain that if I do go through with the surgery will stop me from being able to handle the post-surgery routine?

Am I just crazy?

One hour and 36 minutes until we find out.

Kitchens

We had a meeting with a kitchen guy at Home Depot tonight. 20 minutes into the meeting we all realized he wasn’t the guy we needed to be talking to.

Jen has been itching for a new kitchen for over a year now. We really can’t afford it, and every time we looking into doing one thing it pulls in five other things and the cost estimate balloons and we back off. We’re going to try again though. This time we’re thinking more of an upgrade or a face lift and less of a remodel. The guy we thought we were talking to tonight is going to come over for a look see tomorrow. Another guy will come on Wednesday for a look see to see about getting rid of the awful paneling and wall paper border in the kitchen and the dining room.

We’re not agreeing to anything yet but hopefully we’ll be able to make it work. I want this to happen because I want my love to be pleased. We’ll see.

The main issue in all of this is that Covid is hardly over. I am not nervous the way I was a year ago, but I am still less than comfortable with it all. I can’t complain though, as I am going to the office regularly and I am going to the weight loss clinic and I am even thinking about getting the band together. I fear I am being selfish by being concerned. I’m not though. I am concerned about everything, I just can’t do much about any of it anymore.

In other news, the album in a day idea might be back on, but it won’t start until morning. I haven’t decided yet. We’ll see. Also, I have an afternoon appointment at the weight loss clinic on Thursday. The weight loss clinic is on the way to Guitar Center in Nashua. I wonder if I might go early and bring my Strat. Also maybe bring my Bassbreaker 18/30. Also, I think we have a Guitar Center credit card. Maybe I’ll bring that too. No promises. I would say I am about on third in favor of going and two thirds against. We’ll see how I feel on Thursday.

Okay, going to watch the Bruins. They are tied with the LA Kings, one a piece after one period.

Appointment Day

I am meeting with the surgeon who will (please please please) eventually carve up my stomach today. The appointment is about two hours from now.

I am starting to freak out.

Why?

I don’t know. It’s not like I am going to get sliced up today, it’s just a meeting. We will hopefully discuss the two surgery options and decide which one to go with. I can’t imagine she’s going to look at me and decide I’m not worthy and just tell me to go fuck myself up a tree or something.

The future of the human race is not in the balance here. I need to calm my idiotic self down.

One hour and 56 minutes to go.

Stop freaking out.

Conflicting Emotions

My next weight loss appointment is one week from today. I’m conflicted emotionally.

On the one hand I can’t wait to get over the next hurdle and be one step closer to the finish line.

On the other hand, I’m scared shitless. I’m going to be meeting with the doctor who is going to carve up my innards. I mean, it’s terrifying!

So far the drive to move forward is stronger than the fear. I need to keep it that way. For the rest of my life.

One week.

Lunch Break

I failed to get out of bed early enough to go out for some car music today. It’s been a while. I need to keep on this. I want the re-recordings done before RPM starts on February 1st. Get on it, fat boy!

My hair is so long that it keeps covering my glasses. When I am wearing my sit-at-the-computer glasses and I have to look somewhere else, I try to look over the top of my glasses. I can’t do that today because there is 20 pounds of hair sitting there. I keep thinking my glasses are dirty because there’s smutz on them. The smutz, as you can probably guess, is actually my hair. If I don’t get my hair cut tomorrow I am going to lose my shit. At the same time, I really don’t want to get my hair cut tomorrow because I really don’t want Covid. Damn it!

Yesterday was Dr Martin Luther King, Jr day in the USA. Was it also a holiday in the UK? Why is the That Pedal Show live show happening today instead of yesterday?

I just did something I haven’t done in ages. Instead of chasing my lunch with some junk food, I had some fruit. I am sharing that information not because it’s interesting to you, my loyal and much loved readers, but because if I happen to look back at this a few days or weeks or years from now I want to know that on at least one day I did at least one thing right. I am encouraging/guilting my hypothetical future self.

My step son is taking a jazz piano course. Just a one credit thing. He had his first lesson today. He’s very excited. He said he popped a 9th on top of a Dominat 7 chord. Yes. Next stop, Chick Effin’ Corea babie!

Right, back to work.

The Panic is Imminent

Imminent… did I spell that right? I think so. It’s one of those words, you know? One of those words that I am never quite sure how to spell.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, the panic is imminent.

Tomorrow is Tuesday. After that… Wednesday. That’s when the panic will come full force. Wednesday morning. At Lowell General Hospital. It’s not even an appointment, it’s just handing in some paperwork and having my vitals recorded. The actual first appointment is February 3rd via Zoom. Wednesday though… that’s the next step. I have to get through that before I can do anything else.

Weight loss surgery. I am in a state of mild freak out right now. It will be a major league freak out tomorrow. Wednesday morning… full blown panic. I can practically smell it.

I’m doing it this time. No more wussing out like the last time. No more giving in to fear. No more worrying about what I won’t be able to do anymore once it’s done. The only worry worth worrying about is what happens if I don’t do it.

It’s the right thing to do, but I am still going to panic over every little detail, including dropping off the medical history forms on Wednesday.

Fuck. I don’t know if I am ready for this.

Fuck. I have to get myself ready for this.

Fuck.