New Belly, New life

Well Monday 11/26 was the big day. I now have had drastic bariatric surgery, and I don't regret anything, so far.

Sunday was hard, I was all ready and willing and able to go except that the in-laws were not here, and not here, and not here. They were sucked into the morass that was the Dayton I-70 I-75 interchange.

This interchange has been under construction since I moved to Ohio, in 2000. Seven years later you still spend your time in one lane of traffic, jammed between semis and waiting. And waiting.....and keeping other people waiting. Like the 6 year old who runs to the window every 3.5 minutes "are they here yet? When are they going to get here?"

I spent the entire day all jumpy and ready to roll. But not until 3 hours after the in-laws showed up did we FINALLY get moving, in the dark, cold, rainy night.

Two and a half hours up to Bowling Green we went. My first moment of rage came when, on Highway 23 around Lewis Center, some idiot decides to come to a COMPLETLE stop in the right hand land, before taking a 90 degree turn into the right hand turn lane. Yes, Yes, I enjoy going from 60-to-zero in an instant, especially on a cold, darky rainy night. ARGH! Assholes!

But not to be outdone, I believe once we got onto Highway 15, some old fart pulled out onto the highway, which is permitted, but a scant 20 feet in front of me. So I slam on the brakes and the horn, skid a bit, as he crosses in front of me, in the right lane, then into the left lane, and then back in front of me into the right lane, top speed: 32 mph. What was my speed prior to this moment of slow speed psychosis? 75 mph.

I was so pissed, it was all I could do to stop the car, get my baseball bat, walk up to Speedy Gonzales and show him how we handle DITWADS in Columbus.....

But we got to Bowling Green, alive and in one piece. I had reserved us a room at the Days Inn, one of the very few choices I had in the Greater Bowling Green Metroplex.

I reserved a King, Non-Smoking Jacuzzi Suite.

We got a King, Smoking John Waters Special.

Threadbare carpeting that didn't quite meet up in all places. Extravagant Liberace type cut glass mirrors surrounded the Jacuzzi, with the grout job done by Romper Room.

The microwave had DIALS on it. We didn't open the fridge. The room heater had no temp control, only on, low fan, mediums fan, breath of Satan settings. But it was a Searsometer, so I'm sure that meant something good (in 1972). The bed was so springy it needed shock absorbers.

But the most was the bathroom. Screaming yellow tile, floor to ceiling. Lemon meringue Pie Yellow, Big Bird Yellow, more yellow than my grandmother's 1976 Mercury Cougar. YELLOW! Even with the lights out, the yellow glow from the bathroom kept me awake for hours.

Oh yeah, and the jacuzzi only worked for 5 minutes.

Long after Super G fell asleep, about 2 seconds after his head hit the pillow, I laid awake wondering if this was a harbinger of the day to come.
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The next morning we were both up bright and early, because I forgot the ride to the hospital was 5 minutes, not 45.

Checked in, had some bloodwork done, went upstairs. They made me put on these leggings made out of sheets, the only way I can describe it. And the requisite 3 pokes before finally getting an IV.

I woke up in the OR with the breathing tube still inserted, yeah that was a whole lot of no fun. I was loaded up with fentanyl and dilaudid, and eventually spirited off to my room. A nurse later told me that all Dr. Lane's patients get private rooms unless the hospital was completely crowded. So I had the room all to myself.

I was visited by two patients of Dr. Lane's who will be having surgery in December. Never met them in person, but why not meet someone for the first time when you're 8 hours post op? It was a great thrill ride........

Until the vomiting started. I had been given zofran, but for some reason, that doesn't do jack for me. I asked the nurse if I could have phenergan, she said that I could not because it was a dangerous drug and caused one of her patients a Deep Vein Thrombosis recently. I vomited all night long.

At shift change I talked to the new nurse about it. Turns out night nurse never called the Doctor, and the patient she was referring to got a DVT because she pushed phenergan through a bad IV. A short time later, I got my phenergan, which in actuality is a harsh drug, I slept for the rest of the day, but didn't vomit again.

I survived the upper GI and went home on Wednesday night, with a drain tube.

My drain stopped draining on Thursday.

I called on Friday and was told that was normal AND THEY WOULD PULL IT WHEN I WENT FOR MY FOLLOW UP APPOINTMENT ON DECEMBER 6TH.

ahem.

Why would I drag around a tube hanging out of my body that is no longer functioning for an entire week?

I went upstairs, snipped out the suture and pulled out the drain myself. I don't see what the big deal is but apparently, people don't normally do this type of thing. I figure you, you pull out boogers, tampons, babies, why not a drain tube?

Still haven't figured out what I'm going to say to the Dr next week when I come in without my little friend.

I have good days and bad days, yesterday I was really hungry, but today I had some Campbells Select Creamy Tomato Parmesean soup, and it was heavy enough to make me feel full for the first time. I'm not supposed to start full liquids until Monday, but I'm not very compliant about some things, see the drain tube above.

So other than antsy to drop pounds (I gained nearly 10 with the IV fluids in the hospital) I feel normal.

and so I must start working for the day.

Bambi, this is why your mamma done died......

Deer are stupid. I've yet to see a smart one. They're like giant 500 pound moths drawn to my headlights.

I was on my way in to work this morning, at 5:30 am, cruising along the country roads, going about 50, when I saw in the ditch, a buck grazing.

So I slowed down considerably, but he seemed to not notice me, until, of course, I was right up on him, and then suddenly he headed to the road.

So I slam on the brakes, steer to the other side of the road and brace for impact. I also screamed "Oh SHIT!" but fortunately, I did not actually DO that.

The ABS kicked in and I found myself at a stop, nearly touching Bambi's imbecile cousin.....Dumbi?

He looked at me, I looked at him. His big dark eyes were staring into my headlights, glazed by some secret voice that calls only to deer that truly, madly, deeply want to commit suicide.

Then he blinked, and slowly walked back to the ditch and continued his grazing.

Dear Central Ohio Hunters: Please hunt down and kill this stupid sonofabitch. No one deserves to have their day started like this. He's a menace to the gene pool and needs to be eliminated, post haste. He had a nice rack on him, he's ready to be steaks. Thanks so much!

This begins the second week of no solid foods. I'm having a hard time of it now that I have to serve food to the kids. Today, I sucked the juice out of polish sausages, and took one of Buddy's chicken nuggets, chewed it up into a fine past then spit it out. This sucks! And making Thanksgiving dinner, when I can't eat any of it (except maybe drink the gravy) is cruel at best.

I understand the reasoning behind the full liquid diet, but give me an appetite suppressant, or dope me up or something. I'm not in a good mood when I'm STARVING, and I'm STARVING right now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Friday Doldrums......

With all this blessed time on my hands, I'm like an Israelite wandering in the desert. I have "things" I should do, but not some huge pressing list of things I HAVE TO DO RIGHT NOW.

I guess when I'm under stress, I get stuff done, but when left in quiet solitude, I just sit here. And surf the interweb.

So I've not cheated at all on my pre-op liquid diet. This is good, because there is a half a pan of lasagna in the fridge from Saturday. Now that Bug has decided (after I cooked it) that she no longer likes lasagna, it sits there. I've not eaten any of it.

Instead, I use the Quisinart and pulverize Campbell's soups. The taste is okay, but it is horrible to look at.

It seems that Buddy is my muse. With him not here, I've got nothing to blog about. It is so quiet and lonely.

In 10 days I'm having having the first stage of a Duodenal Switch done, it is called a Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy. Roughly 80 to 90% of your stomach is removed. This restricts your eating, for sure, and also removed the majority of ghrelin production, which is the hormone that stimulates hunger. I've been hanging out on some message boards and finding that people are losing 80- 90% of their excess body weight within the first year. I'm liking those odds.

Things I'd like to do when I'm at a more healthy weight:

Swing on the swings with my kids, on our swingset.
Go for walks and not get winded.
Feel more confident to go out to gatherings and to places with my family and friends.
Be a better wife, because I will like myself so much more.
Feel attractive again.
Shop at Victoria's Secret (this may be a long way off)

There, that is my wish list. We'll see how I do. I got one of those weight ticker things for my signature on a forum I post to. I entered my high weight and my current weight, and discovered that I have lost 39 pounds since June! WOW, what a great headstart.

So there, the most boring blog post of the year. Since it's mid morning, I guess I'll go grind up some soup and then take a shower.

So it is Wednesday night....

Buddy and Super G went back to the Nebraska for Orpha's funeral. I'm here....alone....with Bug.

Monday night went like this:

Me: "So, whaddya wanna do?"

Bug: "Umm, I dunno, whadda YOU wanna do?"

Me: "Uh, I dunno."

and on and on and on.

Then, last night, I put her in the tub and let her play until she was cold. She came wandering into my room, dripping, as I was folding clothes and watching Law & Order: Criminal Intent reruns on USA.

She was getting into it, so I'm explaining that this chick got this guy to kill some cops and some bad guys, and they stole the bad guys' money and now the cops and the bad guys want to get them.

Then I realized that perhaps this was a bit too mature for her.

Too late, because her little eyes had settled upon a slender Vincent D'Onofrio. And thus, my daughter has her own, personal, Paul Sorvino. When it was over, she walked to her room, turned to me and said, "if a show like that comes on again, let me know, okay?"

Yeah, I'll be right on that.

Today, the UPS guy made a delivery to our home. Jessi, the Australian Shepherd, HATES the UPS truck. She knows the sound of the engine and will start barking before it is even on the block.

So I waited until it was at the corner, then opened the door to get my box. She shot out the door, knocking me to the ground and chased the truck down the street and around the block! And not only that, she was biting at the tires! WTF? She can't take on something more her size, like the mail truck. It has to be the biggest thing to come rolling into the neighborhood. Anyway, the foster basset, Banjo, took off too. So I went and got my shoes on and the leash, went walking in their general direction, calling their names sweetly, and making threats under my breath.

The power of the leash never ceases to amaze me. Here Banjo is, all free to run and sniff out a whole new world of sniffs (he hadn't yet discovered the gibbon sanctuary across the street), then I hold up the leash and say "wanna go for a walk?" He comes running, with this goofy, happy look on his face. Why won't my children do the same thing? Not fair at all.

Explaining Death to a Six year old

So Super G broke the news to Bug that Grandma Orpha had died.

Bug: She's died?

SG: Yes, last night.

Bug: You mean somebody shot her and she's dead?


ummmmm no, not quite like that.

Goodbye to a matriarch

The first time I met SuperG's grandma, Orpha, I was so terrified. From what I had heard, she was a woman who commanded respect, who was quiet and gentle, but she was the matriarch of this clan that I had come to know and love.

I walked into her tidy duplex, and felt the pang of nostalgia. Everything was neat, every item placed Just So, and most everything was just as it was in 1977, still in mint condition.

We exchanged pleasantries, I felt a bit awkward, almost like meeting the Queen Mum, I wondered if I should bow.

Then she looked at me, square in the eye.

"What church to you attend?"

I smiled politely and said "Oh, I'm a Lutheran."

She inhaled deeply, sitting up stiff straight, folded her hands and looked away.

"Oh, We don't speak to Lutherans"

I froze in terror, what had I done? Should I have lied and professed my undying devotion to the Presbyterians?

Then I saw this every so slight, wry smile on her lips. She had pulled one over one me, and I passed with flying colors.

Even though I ended up bringing her grandson into the Lutheran collective, I think she still liked me.

On November 10, 2007, just 3 weeks after her 100th birthday, Orpha passed away. Perhaps it was a tribute, but the Huskers finally won a game, and won big, on the same day.

Rest in Peace, great-grandmother, grandmother, mother, wife and friend. For what it is worth, I believe they do let Presbyterians into Heaven ;-)

Buddy and the Enchanted Hose

Men and their penises. Why, oh WHY did God give them their own toys to take with them wherever they go?

Women do not play with their breasts just to have something to do with their hands. What it is about guys?

Buddy prefers to be naked. I encourage clothing choices, he prefers clothing optional. During one of his au naturel moments, he wanders into my office.

"Hey mommy! Check this out, see what I can do!"

He grabs his penis. Then he pulled the skin over the tip and pinched "First you cover it up, and then you push it in"

And with that HE PUSHED THE ENTIRE THING INTO HIS BODY!!!!!!

"And then you let go and *pop* it jumps back out!" He giggles like a maniac, and proceeds to do this horrible thing three or four more times.

Now, I can handle poop, pee, blood and major surgery. I cannot handle this.

WWWWHHHYYYYYYYY would anyone want to do this? What is the thrill? What is the purpose?

Then today, he tells me how he's going to eat and eat and eat and eat until his butt is "this big" (arms stretched out wide)

Why are you going to do that,my son?

He smiles at me, "because then I can poooooooooop a big pooooooop," his hands come together in front of his chest, as if he's cradling a glass ball " and then it will get small and I'll have the perfect butt, right there"

The perfect butt with the Enchanted disappearing hose. The kid is destined for Disney.