At my pre-surgery class today they told us not to wear any jewelry to the hospital. That means I can’t wear my wedding ring.
I asked Jen if she can bring it to me once I’m in my post-op room. I said I don’t want any of those hospital staff folks getting the idea that I’m single and ready to mingle my way out of my anesthesia fog.
Goodness no!
Five days 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!
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.
I weighed myself this morning. I thought I was down something like 240 pounds. Wow! Incredible! I stepped off the scale and stepped back on and it was the same number. Holy cow, I haven’t been this light since Junior High!
That’s when I noticed I accidentally hit the English/Metric switch. Oops.
I weighed myself a third time and I was exactly at my pre-surgery goal weight. Exactly. Precisely.
I guess they can chop me up now.
Note: This was my bathroom scale. I am guessing the number would have been like five pounds higher on the hospital’s scale. I mean, I will be wearing my watch and stuff when I weigh in on the hospital scale, right?
I am not a superstitious person. I promise you that. Occasionally I talk about karma, but it’s always from the point of view of someone who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The reason for that is that I don’t believe in karma. Makes sense, right?
I don’t believe in any of that stuff. Why then, when I look at the long term weather forecast and see that it’s supposed to rain on the day of my surgery do I see it as a bad omen? Knock that shit off, red head. It’s not raining because it’s foretelling bad news. It’s raining because it’s Spring in New England.
You’re not that important, asshole.
Okay. The weight loss surgery date is one week from tomorrow. It’s hitting me. Or at least it’s starting to, and it’s coming from directions I did not expect.
I’m putting together notes for co-workers so they can cover some of my regular responsibilities while I’m out for a whole month. The result is feelings of guilt. Big time feelings of guilt. Not the soul destroying guilt I was buried under a year ago when things were going really bad at my parents house, but a new, fresh, form of guilt.
Guilt over all of the things I won’t be able to do at home until after I recover. Guilt for the burden I am going to be on Jen and Harry and (eventually) Bellana. Even guilt over needing to finish the cellar before the surgery date and therefore putting the contractor into a position where he felt he needed to stay at our house working until 10:00 last night, and 9:30 one night last week.
I did not see this coming, but here it is.
Shit.
I still don’t know what prescreening is, but at least I know it’s one word and not hyphenated. I’ve got that going for me.
Are you folks up for another somewhat obnoxious post about doctors appointments and irrational fear?
Good, cause here it comes.
This afternoon I have a pre-screening for the surgery, which is two weeks from today. I guess that means I am going to meet with the anesthesiologist and he/she’s going to calculate how much knock out juice it’s going to take to put my gigantic king-kong sized ass out for 90 minutes or so. I’m guessing whatever it is they’ll use, it’s going to take a lot.
The timing is going to be funky. The hospital is 24 minutes away and they had to reschedule the appointment for 30 minutes after I get out of work. I’m going to have to split the second after my sick time kicks off. We’re going to be cutting it close.
After that I think I need to get my haircut because if I don’t I’m going to look like Cousin It come surgery day.
On the cellar front, fingers crossed the floor is wrapped up today. We have some furniture being delivered over the weekend. We don’t need everything to be finished by then, but it would make things easier. If everything works out, I may have an office to work from down there by next week. Just in time to go away for a month.
Am I freaking out? Maybe a little. I would say on a scale from 1-100 my freak out level is about a 33 and slowly but steadily increasing.
Duck and cover, kids.
Prepping for the surgery. It’s 15 days away. Panic? Not yet, but soon.
I am going to be drinking a lot of water post-surgery. I picked up a couple of new water bottles to help out.
I got up early this morning to put the trash out on the street. When I came back inside Jen reminded me that yesterday was a state holiday, Patriots Day, and trash pick up will be tomorrow.
Sonofa…
Did you see those pictures of the cellar floor last night? We’re coming to the end, aren’t we. A few more days to finish the floor and all the baseboards and finishing touches. We have a couple of pieces of furniture coming this weekend. Soon enough we’re going to have us a nice little living room down there.
What else is going on? I have another doctors appointment tomorrow. A pre-screening at the hospital. I don’t know what that means, but it has something to do with anesthesia. Prep work.
Two weeks and one day until surgery. Two weeks after that Harry comes home for the summer. The month of May is going to be a busy one, right?
Inside the Red Head's Head 