12 < 15


I took a swig of lemonade at 11:42am, just as my last meeting in Foxborough was wrapping up. I left the building, went to the car, and started driving to my next meeting in Westwood. I took a little protein snack out of the package and took a bite at 11:54am.

What’s wrong with this picture?

I am supposed to wait 15 minutes after drinking something before eating something. 11:54 – 11:42 = 12 minutes. 12 is less than 15. Like our elementary school teachers taught us, 12<15.

Idiot. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t wait the full 15 minutes. Stupid. I won’t have anything more until after 1:00pm, so my stomach should be good and empty by then. Still… it’s called a clock, moron. Use it.

That was a Day


Her old apartment was on the second floor. Her new apartment is on the third floor. So many stairs.

If today’s events had happened a year ago, pre gastric bypass, I probably would have died of a massive heart attack by lunch time. I was very pleased that I got to help Bellana in a time of need. I’m also very pleased that I was physically able to pull it off without dropping dead. That felt good, though I’m in tons of pain tonight and I’ll probably sleep until dinner time tomorrow and tonight’s very late dinner gave me the foamies and I’ll probably need another hour to recover.

I wish Jen had been with me, but outside of that it was a really good day.

Courteous Bad Stomach Fun

I’m having another unhappy stomach day today. It’s not bad. I won’t have any problem working or anything like that. The stomach pain feels like bad gas so far so maybe I will try to take a Gas-X pill and see if it clears it up.

The pain is nothing but courteous this time as it waited until morning to start bothering me. I didn’t wake up with it at 1:30am or anything like that. I woke up with it at 5:30am, which was when my alarm went off. Nice of my stomach, eh?

Change of subject, I think I just did something I’ve never been able to pull off before. I think I just saved an external hard drive. Sort of, at least. The drive I had been using for my Time Machine backups corrupted itself somehow recently and went into read only mode. I tried fixing it with Mac Disk Utility but didn’t have any luck.

I replaced the drive with a new 2tb drive over the weekend and yesterday I had my first successful backups. This morning, in between powerful burps and even more powerful farts (sorry) I tried fixing the first drive again but it wasn’t happening. I reformatted the drive instead and remounted it and whatdayaknow, I can write to it again. It’s now my music files backup disc and maybe it might be my Flickr backup disc too if I ever get the energy to back up the zillion photos I have stored there. Yeah, I should do that soon. There’s so much to lose on that account. Now is the time.

My stomach has made me late to get started for work. It’s 8:21 now and I still need to take a shower and get dressed and all, so I will do that now. Happy burping, everyone.

Meeces to Pieces

It’s time for our two new cats to prove their worth to the household. Yesterday we started seeing clear signs that they were stalking something. The hunt was on. Last night Harry got a brief glimpse: a mouse. Later, Jen and I also saw it hiding in a tiny space between a cabinet and a wall. I tried getting it with a broom but failed miserably.

The cats were hyper vigilant throughout the night but haven’t had any success yet. There was a moment this morning where I heard them attacking from the next room, and also heard their prey squeaking in terror. I felt kinda bad, but that’s the price you pay for invading our home.

The cats have two responsibilities in this house. One is to be adorable and let us pet them and snuggle them. The other is to eliminate small furry invaders. It’s time to hold up your end of the bargain, Robin and Lily. I have full confidence in your mousing abilities. Make Daddy proud, girls.

No problems last night as far as stomach pain goes. I was a little nervous before bed. I was a little queasy. Not bad, but just aware that I wasn’t at 100%. I was also so thoroughly exhausted that I couldn’t really think straight. I turned in at about 11:00 but I forgot to clean out my CPAP mask so I went to sleep without it. I woke up at about 3:30. My first thought was, here we go again. Then I realized what woke me up. It wasn’t in my stomach, it was on my stomach. Miss Lily had jumped on me and was very insistent about showing me some affection. I gave her what she wanted. She doesn’t really show me any attention like that, so I wasn’t about to say no.

Once she had her fill I tried going back to sleep, but I was pretty much awake. I just sort of laid there for a while, then I got up and got a new CPAP mask out of my closet. I had to deal with Miss Robin who ran inside while I had the door open and wouldn’t come out. I swapped out the drool’d in mask for the new, clean one and went back to bed. I got to listen to an attack on the mouse before I fell asleep. My alarm was set for 7:00am but I snoozed it until a little before 8:00. So the good news is, no stomach issues or anything health related. The bad news is I didn’t sleep through the night the way I was hoping. The lesser good news is that I did snag about seven hours of sleep that I very much needed, though I am still feeling really tired this morning.

Here’s hoping tonight continues to show improvement.

I was afraid of this. I have fully committed myself to binge watching all of Star Wars The Clone Wars. There are 133 episodes. It’s going to take a while. I know I tried doing this once before but fell off the wagon very early. Why? What stopped me?

During this morning’s faux jog (pronounced, yog) I found out. Season one, episode eight… the entire episode focuses on Jar Jar and it is just as insufferably awful as you would expect. I made it through without vomiting but it did sap my re-watching enthusiasm by about 65%. Oh well. Maybe I’ll go back to the X-Files for a couple of days.

If I don’t get a haircut today I am going to go insane. Just warning you. Ya know, in case I start posting things that are more insane than normal. If I do, you’ll know why.

Not Bad, Just Weird

So last night. It wasn’t bad, it was just weird. Weird in that I haven’t experienced anything quite like it before, but also in the way that it mirrored the bad time from the night before without actually being all that bad.

I went to bed at around 10:30 and dropped off to sleep pretty much instantly. After the mess that was Wednesday night, that was all I had hoped for. I woke up around 1:00am feeling a bit nauseous. I actually spit up into my CPAP mask, just a little bit. I guess my fears about wearing it the night before we justified? I got to the bathroom, spit up a little more, and felt better. I never vomited and the nausea passed quickly. In it’s wake was some gas pain. That scared me. Any pain in the stomach would, after all of the crap from Wednesday. Unlike Wednesday though I was able to lay back down without getting worse and I actually went back to sleep for half an hour or so.

I woke up again and the pain in my stomach was worse, but still not like the night before. It felt like gas still, but it also felt like hunger. I got up for a tiny little snack and brought it back to the bedroom and had it. When I did that on Wednesday I immediately knew that it wasn’t going to help. Last night I didn’t have that feeling. It may have helped a little, but really burping helped more.

I sat up in bed for a little while, then went back to the bathroom, which I also did on Wednesday night, but that didn’t help. The pain was there, but it was never even remotely as bad as the night before. Wednesday was probably a 6-7 on the pain scale from 1-10. Thursday was maybe a 3-4. I was still burping and farting a lot and I was afraid I was going to wake Jen with all the racket so, like Wednesday, I went out to the living room.

This was the point where things went out of control on Wednesday. I was a little afraid of a repeat, but pretty sure it wasn’t going to happen. I was able to lay down on the couch, which I couldn’t do the night before, and I actually fell asleep again. I didn’t have my CPAP machine so I would sleep for a little while then wake up then repeat. At 4:30 or so Jen came out looking for me and I reassured her that apart from some gas I was fine. She asked if I could go back to bed and I did. I changed my alarm from 5:00am (for yogging purposes) to 7:00am to help with the exhaustion a little. I didn’t put my CPAP machine on because of the drool factor. I need to clean that sucker tonight. I slept until about 6:00 and then just drifted between dozing and awake until 7:00.

So all in all it wasn’t a bad night, just weird. I could have stayed in bed the whole time but I was afraid I would make too much noise and wake up my dearest. I really wanted her to have a good night’s sleep. I messed her sleep up the night before and I absolutely did not want to do that again.

Tonight? I guess we’ll have to see. I am thinking about sunrise photos at Salisbury Beach tomorrow so hopefully I’ll get a good sleep before waking up stupidly early in the morning. We’ll see how it goes, I guess. I am sure it will be fine.

Train Wreck of a Night

I saw it coming this time but I still couldn’t get out of the way. For the second time in about three weeks I found myself fetal on the floor, moaning in stomach pain. Hooray.

I went to sleep last night at a little after 11:00pm, which was two hours later than I wanted to, but that’s my fault, not my stomach’s. I could have gone to sleep earlier, but I wanted to play a little Jedi Survivor, and then I had to wait a whole hour for it to install. Not a big deal.

I had a snack just before turning in for the night. My theory was the first fetal on the floor experience was down to an empty stomach. I now know it wasn’t, but that was the theory at least. A few minutes after I finished the snack I started feeling some stomach discomfort. Not outright pain, just enough of something to know that something was wrong. Like I said, I saw this train coming miles away. I got into bed and went to sleep though.

About 12:30am I woke up. Just like last time, it was my bladder that woke me up, not my stomach. By the time I was done in the bathroom though, my stomach was a thing. I went out to the living room to eat the smallest protein snack I have. I took one bite and knew that this time it wasn’t hunger. It just kept getting worse. The pain was bad, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe a six on the pain scale from one to 10. Enough to suck, but not debilitating. No, the worst part was the inability to get any relief from it. Sitting down made it worse. Laying down made it worse. Standing up made it worse. Walking around made it worse. I ended up doubled over no matter what I was doing.

The first time I went through something like this I ended up getting a tiny bit of relief from curling up in a ball on the living room floor and moaning a lot. This time I was in the cellar because last time I woke Jen up with all the moaning and a groaning and I was hoping to not do that again. So I curled up in a ball on the cold cellar floor and it helped a tiny bit. I also found myself moaning again. I don’t think it was a conscious choice, you know? It just sort of happened. That helped a tiny bit too. Something about the way I was pushing air out? Like a good woodwind player I was pushing the air out from my diaphragm and clenching up my stomach a bit and yeah, it helped. The two things together lowered the pain by maybe 0.1% or so. Barely noticeable, but still kinda helpful.

In the end I failed to keep Jen asleep. She woke up and wanted to call an ambulance to take me to the ER. I protested mightily. I feel like I know what was happening and I just needed to ride it out. She was getting frustrated with me and I don’t blame her. She kept telling me that I would be dragging her to the ER if our roles were reversed and, as always, she was 100% right. I would have done exactly that. I guess I am just a really bad patient. I apologized profusely for being so stubborn and tried to express just how thankful I was for her concern and how much it meant to me. It really did. I love her so much, I am sorry I was such a tool.

The funny thing was, we were yelling back and forth through the cellar door (cats are not allowed in the cellar, ever since I caught them clawing at the central air ducts) and our inability to communicate effectively resulted in me coming up stairs. Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as we were in the room together I started to feel better. I was sitting on the couch talking to her and the pain was suddenly very tolerable and manageable. We talked through the situation together for a little while and then she went back to bed and I was able to lay down on the couch and sleep. I didn’t get up early for my morning yogging and I slept as late as I could. I’ll have to fill in the exercise in spurts throughout the work day. That’s not a big deal.

I have had eight ounces of lemonade and my morning vitamins. My stomach has played along nicely so far, but I am super seriously gun shy this morning. I’m afraid to eat something, though I am going to try in about 15 minutes. We’ll see how it goes, but I am behind schedule on my food and drink goals and I would not be surprised if I miss them both today. I will be okay with that if I can avoid any further pain and suffering.

As with the first time, I assume something I ate last night caused all of this. We had Chinese take out for dinner. I only ate a couple of boneless chicken fingers (my favorite) and I wonder if there was something in the batter or the breading that set me off. It’s the only candidate that makes sense. I want to call the weight loss clinic and see if they have any advice on how to handle this if it happens again. I am going to bet that they will say to just ride it out. It was something like 2.5-3 hours last night and it sucked but I made it through okay. Here’s hoping it doesn’t happen again any time soon.

One Year Anniversary Weigh In

I think I may have mentioned that today is the first anniversary of my gastric bypass surgery. Have I dropped that factoid onto the blog yet today? I think I have.

To summarize the results of yesterday’s weigh in (again), my most recent goal was to get below 205 pounds because that would put my BMI below 25. A BMI of 25 and up means you are overweight. A BMI of less than 25 means you are at a normal weight. I haven’t been at a healthy weight at any moment during my adult life, and possibly at any moment in my entire life as a whole.

Last week’s weigh in (week 51) had me at 205.6 pounds. So very close to that overweight/healthy weight line. Yesterday’s weigh in (week 52) messed up that good vibe by coming in at 206.6. I joked in the post about maybe magically losing 1.7 pounds in one day and hitting that goal on my first anniversary. It really was a joke. I promise.

Guess what happened. Go on and guess.

I got up at a little before 6:00am and stepped on the scale. The number made me laugh. I stepped off, reset the scale to zero and stepped back on and got exactly the same result.

204.8. Down 1.8 pounds from yesterday. From yesterday. Ladies and gentlemen… for the first time in my adult life… and coincidently on the anniversary of my weight loss surgery… My BMI is below 25, implying that I am at a healthy weight.

How friggin’ hysterical is that? I joked about it yesterday and it actually happened today. Who writes this shit, right?

I have lost 226.6 pounds in the last year, and 247.2 pounds since the first weigh in on January 19, 2022. I can’t even believe it. My mind is blown. Totally.

So now what? I’ve tracked my weight pretty religiously every Wednesday and the 4th of every month for a full year. Can I stop now? I don’t know. Does the weekly weigh in count as part of my routine in such a way that I should keep doing it because I am a creature of habit and sticking to the routine has worked for me this far so I should do it? Should I stop the Wednesdays and just do the monthlies? I don’t know. I might wait until Wednesday morning before making a decision and just see what happens.

As far as goals are concerned, my general goal was just to feel healthier and not feel like I was dying 24 hours a day. That’s how I felt back in January of 2022 when this started. More specific goals didn’t really exist at first. I wanted to be under 400 pounds. I achieved that on May 16, 2022. That changed my goal to being under 300 pounds. I achieved that on September 21, 2022. I think it was in October or November when I publicly said my new goal was to have my BMI under 25, but I did the math wrong (like an idiot) and thought I had to get down to 190 pounds. The BMI goal superseded the sub 200 goal because the idea of hitting either one was so absurd that they didn’t seem realistic.

Now? I guess the goal is to stay below 205 pounds. Beyond that, hitting “Onederland” is the next pie in the sky goal. Onederland being what folks on the bariatric surgery Facebook groups call the magical moment when you drop below 200 pounds. I’m less than five pounds away, but it’s taken me months to get to 205 from the point where I first leveled off, around 216. It could take a while… or not. Who the hell knows?

For now though, let’s just focus on the happy anniversary of it all. 365 days and 220+ pounds. It’s so unbelievable I kinda want to throw up. This is beyond my wildest dreams. Thanks for hanging out with me and reading my stupid weight loss posts. I appreciate you coming along for the ride.