Nothing to Write About

I feel like I have nothing to write about. I’m sitting at my desk listening to a podcast and trying to eat a little pureed chicken. I have nothing to write about. I am so focused on getting my 60 ounces of liquids and 60 grams of protein in each day that I haven’t really worried about anything other than binge watching some TV. I’ve also spent a ton of time stressing over my mother’s situation, but I am not sharing that today so sorry not sorry.

I haven’t payed any attention to the NHL playoffs and I’ve barely payed attention to baseball, beyond checking the Red Sox scores once a day. I did finally finish reading Steve Hackett’s autobiography. There wasn’t a whole lot of detail there, but it was still a good read. I’m thinking Mike Rutherford’s book might be next. Get some of that Charterhouse story and all that.

I weighed myself today. Remember the other day when I wrote something about how I didn’t want to weigh myself all of the time? Yeah, I weighed myself again. If the scale I keep in the bedroom is accurate I have lost 60 pounds since January 19th. That is insane.

Should I play guitar after I post this meandering crap of a post? Jen is working in her office and Harry is working at his new job so why not just make a little noise on my own? I don’t know. I’m a little wary of it for some reason. I don’t know why. It’s a weird feeling. I don’t know.

Maybe I’ll goof around with the blog and see if I can find a new theme and layout. Maybe I’ll do that for a while, maybe not. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll sneak in some Breaking Bad. I only have about half of the final season left to go. Maybe I’ll check iBooks and see how much Mike Rutherfords’ book costs.


Jen and I went for a drive today. You wouldn’t think that was a huge deal but there it is. We drove to Danvers and back. In full pandemic mode, we didn’t go anywhere, we just drove there and drove back.

It was magnificent.

It made me a smidge late for my lunch but it was okay. I took a water bottle with me so I could keep sipping. Puréed tuna fish for lunch, puréed meatball for dinner.

It’s been a good day. Tuesday should be the day when I graduate to solid food. I’m good for now, but I’m feeling pretty ready to chew stuff again.


Jen made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner for her and Harry, who coincidentally started a new job in a restaurant today, and she purred a meatball for me.

It was my first post-op taste of red meat and it was glorious.

It made me think about eating at restaurants. My go-to is usually a steak, but there is no way I’m going to be able to eat a whole steak in one sitting now. I’m going to have to learn how to be the kind of guy who takes home the leftovers. Maybe I’ll keep a cooler in the trunk of each car, or something like that.

Two Weeks

Two weeks ago at about this time, I think I was being moved from the operating room to the recovery room. I’m trying to find some way to commemorate this historic anniversary and I am coming up with nothing. I’m in the cellar, watching Breaking Bad again and surfing online music stores on my laptop. I don’t want to spend money on gitter stuff but what can you do? Pedal boards and random gear are just fun to daydream about. I have made sure to avoid looking at actual guitars though. Amps too. Just pedals and non-bank breaking stuff.

As for the post-surgical update, I had a weird experience today. I ate my delicious tuna fish puree at lunch time. When I was done I… well… it’s so odd… I felt… hungry. As in, damn I could go for another ounce of that fun stuff. It was just a weird feeling.

I am still not giving any details on the subject, but my mother is still in the hospital. I still can’t do anything about it, and likely won’t be able to for another 2-3 weeks. I feel less than useless. Again, no details are coming but I just needed to state that publicly for my own guilt ridden reasons. That is all.

Happy two-week birthday to my little baby stomach*.

* In his book Ghost Rider, Neil Peart, while dealing with the deaths of his wife and daughter, refers to parts of his recovery as feeding his little baby soul. My soul is okay, but my little baby stomach needs constant attention.

Just Checking In

I haven’t posted anything about weight loss surgery today, what the hell is going on, Robert?

Everything continues to go okay. If I drink too much or eat too fast I get gassy. That’s the only issue I’m having. If I try to be too active I get worn out super fast. I’m often tired, but never really tired enough to want to take a nap.

I told myself I was going to play some guitar today. When the time came I got scared. Just a little. The idea of a nearly 10 pound guitar resting against my belly where the incisions are gave me pause. Let’s wait a couple of days on that one, okay?

I’m reaching the point where I am seriously sick of Gatorade G Free, and I am also pretty sick of protein shakes. I did the laundry over the last two days and I put the last of our bird seed supply into the bird feeders today and I have watched about half of season three of Breaking Bad. I haven’t watched any Star Trek over the last couple of days, and I’ve only watched a couple of episodes of Kids in the Hall and I found out that show From isn’t on Amazon, it’s just the first three episodes as a trial. I don’t want to subscribe to another app. I’ve also missed enough of The Flash that I can’t use the CW app to catch up. They’ve already purged the next episode I need. Oh well. I will finish season three of Breaking Bad before dinner and that leaves me with 29 more episodes to go. Can I blow through them before my leave of absence is through? If so, do I then start with Better Call Saul? Because Bob Odenkirk is probably my favorite part of the show so far.

I don’t know. I don’t feel stir crazy or anything. I just want to keep feeling better. I want things to continue progressing as they are. Then when I am up to speed it’s time to get Lizardfish back up and running. It is going to happen. I have a new pedal board and everything.

Proud of Me

I’m feeling all proud of myself right now. I made scrambled eggs for myself. It’s not the first time I’ve made scrambled eggs (it’s been ages, maybe even decades), but it’s the first time I made them in a purée friendly fashion for post bariatric surgery purposes.

Look at me, all cooking and shit.


I very much want to avoid stepping on scales. I don’t want the focus of all of this to be a number, I want to focus on how I’m feeling.

Having said that, the number is pretty important. I told myself I would only step on the scale on Tuesdays. I failed. Today is Monday and I stepped on the scale. The progress over the last six days… awesome. I know it’s going to slow down dramatically once I can start eating whole food again, but for now. Just, wow.

Two Points

I wore a baseball hat today. When I got into bed I planned to sit up for a while surfing the nets and listening to some rock and roll (Nirvana’s In Utero, first listen in ages and it very much holds up).

I forgot that I had the hat on so I took it off and flipped it toward the bureau. it crashed into my little prescription meds stash and knocked one off. It landed in one of my shoes.

Boom, right in the shoe.

I felt the need to document this epic bank shot for posterity.

That’s all.


Yesterday was a much better day as far as gas and pain are concerned. I was very pleased to hit a milestone too.

The goal in the puréed food stage is to try to eat a quarter of a cup of food at a time. Last night at dinner, Jen puréed some chicken for me and gave it to me with a teeny little side of mashed potato. The combined size of the serving? About a quarter of a cup. Awesome!

Even better? I had a bite or two of potato left and I had to stop eating. I felt full. Like legitimately, unquestionably full. It was a bit of actual hard evidence that my tiny new stomach is getting with the program. Two weeks ago I would have eaten that meal in one bite. Chomp, gulp, done. Not any more. Here’s to a lifetime of small, healthy portion sizes.

For breakfast today there was a quarter cup of scrambled eggs. I can’t say I feel full after eating it, but I do feel comfortable. Good job, tiny little baby stomach. Keep it up.