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.

Spoke a Little Too Soon

Okay, so when I wrote a post about being on the stage II diet, I posted a smidge too soon. Tomorrow. Or Thursday. Tonight we’re still liquid.

My first appointment today was the stage II diet class. I will be able to eat small amounts of food, but only if they are pureed down to the consistency of applesauce. On the one hand, gross. On the other hand, kick ass. It’s a Strange New World.

My second appointment was a post-surgical follow up with the nurse practitioner. There were two main topics of discussion. One was, you’re doing everything right. The other was, let’s try to get rid of all of this light headedness. We’re going to try a combination of keep doing what I’m doing, add an extra protein shake if I can hack it, and stop taking one of the meds. I can do that.

I weighed in today for the first time since before the surgery. I have a spreadsheet keeping track of my weight throughout this whole process, but I just scrapped it. It was a combination of my bathroom scale and the scale at the clinic. I have decided to just go with the clinic scale for now and to keep that as the official count. I can do a separate sheet for the home scale.

I want to share the weight loss numbers with the universe, but I don’t want to share the actual weight. I will try to do that with algebra. Hold on to your butts.

My first visit to the clinic was on January 19, 2022. That visit consisted entirely of checking my vital signs, including my weight. On that day my weight was calculated at x.

I’m sure I stood on the scale a few times in subsequent visits but I didn’t write those official numbers down until the day of the stage I diet class, April 29, 2022. On that day my weight was calculated at y=x-20.6. That was a couple of pounds higher than my pre-surgery goal, but it was good enough to proceed. I weighed in again today at the stage II class and the new number is z=y-22.4=x-43.0. Down a little more than 22 since the Friday before the surgery and down 43 since the first weigh in.

The question then is, which number is the accurate/official one? When I think of how much I’ve lost, should it be since the surgery, which is approximately 22.4 pounds, or should it be from the start of the process, which is 43? I don’t know. I also don’t really care.

One Week and One Day

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.

The Next Appointment

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.

Hoping for a Quiet Day

Yesterday’s doctor’s appointment was a touch on the anti-climactic side. We just went over the surgery again, including all of the horrible complications that will not happen but could. After that I just signed a consent form and said see ya on the fourth.

By the time I got home the dry wall was done. The plan for today is to prep for the painting stage and start priming. The contractor is hoping to finish the painting and start the floor on Friday. Oh how lovely that would be.

The Marvel rewatch is continuing. I’m hoping to finish Guardians one before work today. I should have about 15 minutes to spare. Sweet.

As for Tuesday April 12, here’s hoping for a nice quiet day at work. I’m not holding my breath though.

Doctor’s Appointment Day

When I met with the psychologist he told me that I would know I’m coming to the end of things when they book a second meeting with the surgeon. This afternoon I have my second meeting with the surgeon. I thought I would book a surgery date after this, but I already have a date so there’s no mystery left.

Well… I don’t exactly know what we’re going to discuss today. I can speculate, but why bother. I know I am still not at my pre-surgery goal weight, but I still have a couple of weeks to go.

The main difference between today and all of the other appointments is that I am not even a little bit nervous. Likely that will change as the time gets closer. We’ll have to see.

I’ll let you all (and by you all I mostly mean my future self as I look through all of this stuff years from now) know how it goes.

Star Wars Day

So what are you doing on Star Wars Day this year? You know Star Wars Day, right? May the 4th? As in May the 4th be with you? Ha Ha, get it?

I know what I’m doing.

I am checking into a hospital to have my insides rewired.

I really did not expect to be getting a surgery date this soon, nor did I expect the date to be so close. They offered me April 18th too but that was way to close for my mental health to handle. I may have actually shit a brick when I heard that date. May 4 seems much more reasonable, not to mention destined, from a Star Wars fanatic’s point of view.

Holy shit! May 4th! That’s 35 days away! Insert the sound of panicked screams of terror here.

Shit is About to Get Real

I just had my Zoom call with the dietician. Woah boy, here it comes.

Insurance requires me to have sign off from a psychologist, a cardiologist, and a dietician. I already had psych and cardiology. The psychologist* told me that I would know things are close when they scheduled a second meeting with the surgeon.

The call I had today said the next step is a second meeting with the surgeon.

I have the dietician’s sign off.

Holy shit. This thing could actually be happening. Still zero clue on a timeline, but the thing I was told would be the sign that surgery is imminent is the next thing I have to do.

In the immortal words of the guy from Quantum Leap:

Woah boy.


*Should I be capitalizing the names of the departments? Should I be capitalizing psychologist when I am referring to a specific psychologist without using his/her/their name? Grammar is a bitch, you know?

Here Comes the Irrational Fear Again

It’s time again. Time to feel afraid of a doctors appointment that I am choosing to go to rather than being asked to go to. Time to feel afraid of myself more than anything else. I have another weight loss surgery appointment. The second meeting with a dietician. Not the same dietician, she had to call out of the office today, but my second dietician appointment over all.

I am choosing to do this even though I am scared shitless. I’m much less afraid of things now than I was two months ago, but I’m still scared. I am also still more afraid of not doing it than doing it, hence I’m still doing it. Get it?

Today was supposed to be a mid-morning Zoom call, now it’s an early morning phone call. It doesn’t matter. Either way, I want to do this… I need to do this… I cannot not do this… yet I am still afraid. I guess the difference now compared to two months ago is that then I was afraid of the surgery. Now I am strangely afraid of the surgery and equally afraid of being told I don’t qualify for the surgery. How screwed up is that, emotionally speaking?

Wish me luck.


Oh yeah, and the title of this post is totally going to be the title of my next album.

Getting Close

It seems contrary to everything else, but during this period of preparing myself for weight loss surgery I have avoided weighing myself too often. At my first consultation appointment they gave me a goal weight. They wanted me to drop 5% of my tonnage in order to make the surgery a little easier to perform. I have my second appointment with the dietician tomorrow so I figured today would be a good day to step on the scale.

If the rudimentary math skills I acquired during my days earning my Bachelors Degree are correct, I have lost about 4.2% of my initial bulk. I don’t feel any different, but my jeans do feel a smidge looser. I haven’t been doing a very good job with all of the things the dietician asked me to do during our first meeting. I have been trying to implement new things one at a time so that I don’t drive myself nuts and lash out against it by eating the whole town. Unfortunately, one of the things I started working on was really difficult and took me a while to get used to. Then we spent two weeks without a kitchen. I’m trying to track my meals but I’ve failed the last few days.

I don’t expect that tomorrow’s meeting with the dietician will clear me for surgical take off, but I am hoping it won’t be too long before I get the okay. I am thinking another month, but not being a dietician and never having been through this before, how the hell would I know? It doesn’t really matter though. The point is I am getting closer. I feel pretty good about that.