Eating my dreams. Or my dreams are eating. Whatever.
So, last night, I dreamed about eating. I don’t know what I ate in my dream & it doesn’t really matter because it involved chewing.
The other day, my daughter (and source of hope and inspiration that having sleeve surgery is going to help the pain in my hips and feet) asked me, “Do you miss chewing yet?” That was, mmmm, 5 days in to the liquid pre-op diet, and I said, “Not really.”
The arrival of the Meh.
The arrival of the weekend (READ: lack of structure, which is always a dangerous place for me to be when it comes to food and not feeling 100%) and “keto flu” (A.K.A. the “carb flu”) I now have a different answer to her question: “HELL, YES, I MISS CHEWING.” Here’s a note on the purpose of the pre-op liquid diet, which is supposedly the worst of the entire experience–and that includes having 85% of one’s stomach removed. I just had a thought: I forgot I can have thinned out Cream of Wheat! And it made me go, “YESSSSS!”
Cream. Of. Wheat. Makes. Me. Happy…And that’s knowing that I have hated that stuff since I was a child.
Aside from dizziness, fatigue, headache, and dry mouth, I would add the side effect of, “I don’t give a shit.” As in, unlike my usual energetic drive to complete all the items on my “to-do” list, I have to give myself a real pep talk to, um, “Give a shit.” I did a lot of my weekend chores in the evening this past week (it helped break my pattern of coming home and dealing with food, since I’m on protein shakes, broth, and yogurt…) which helped a lot since the changes my body is going through really hit me hard this weekend, but I would be mostly content to sit in a chair and do nothing but watch TV the rest of today. I’ve even watched 2 movies this weekend–from start to finish–which is unheard of for me, because I have a hard time sitting still that long, and I will probably watch another. My washing machine just did its little “bleep dee dee doo” song it does to tell me the load is ready for the dryer. Even though I was dumb enough to start another load knowing I don’t want to fold it, I did, so now I get to have an internal conflict about dealing with it.
This is real, by the way. Check out these physical manifestations, from this website:
- Sugar cravings
- Brain fog
- Poor focus and concentration
- Stomach pains
- Muscle soreness
- Difficulty falling asleep
I will tell you now that I have no problem falling asleep… anyway. I’m not bitching here, in case you are one of the people who read my posts and want to deem me a whiner for getting to this point and complaining. I’m just telling ya what’s up–this blog is about the journey from “When I Made Up My Mind”–that fateful day last October when I realized I was waddling through the airport because my hips hurt so badly from carrying so much extra weight–to this point: it’s March 4, and my surgery is March 8, which is also my 52nd birthday.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I keep forgetting tomorrow…
Tomorrow, March 5, I am leaving work mid-day, going to the bank to get a money order to pay the surgeon the ungodly amount of money that my (sucky) teaching job insurance, Aetna, requires that I pay IN ADDITION TO my deductible. I wrote about that in the blog where I referred to myself as an ass for not either realizing it or knowing it. Finding out nearly a month ago that I had to come up with the money has aged me significantly. Anyway, I’m leaving work early, going to the bank to get the money order (the surgeon’s requirement as opposed to a check, and who can blame her?), then heading to the hospital to pay the surgeon & report to Outpatient Services for bloodwork, an EKG, and a chest xray. Then there’s other errands I have to run, too, related to making my & Daniel’s lives as easy as possible the next two weeks so that I am not having to ask him to run here & there. Lucky for me, I’ve been through my mind melting before–for a totally different reason, not because my body chemistry is freaking out–so I have lots of coping mechanisms for it. My biggest is LIST making, and I’m talking item by item, in the order I need to do it. And printing stuff out like the Outpatient Services info page in the event I have a brain fart when I reach the hospital…
Plans for THE DAY, “The Day,” of course, being Thursday, March 8…
Originally, my arrival time was defined as 5:15 A.M., but it’s been shifted to 7:15 A.M. I think Daniel is going to go with me rather than me staying over at my daughter’s the night before. Staying at home will help decrease my stress, I think. My surgery time is 10:15 A.M.
I’m getting a little nervous.
I would love to add pics and videos and other pretties to this post; however, and say it with me, people: “I don’t give a shit.”
Oh, yeah: the Ironclad Will part.
It’s the ONLY thing I’ve got going for me at this point.