Week 1

So this time last week I was laid out on a surgery table blissfully unconscious as doctors closed a loop between me and my worst addiction...food.  It's been an interesting roller coaster thus far.

From the wonderful high of prescribed narcotics to the miserable conclusion that sleeping with my feet on the ground, face on the bed and ass in the air was as close to comfortable as I was going to get...I still have no regrets - so ultimately that is the best news.

Thursday and Friday were the worst days thus far - and shouldn't be any huge surprise.  I felt a bit like a human construction level where any purely perpendicular or horizontal position caused a bubble of gas to land squarely between my breast bone, making me nauseated and cranky.  I now understand why infants need to be burped between feeding sessions and why they wail so if not properly jostled to relieve the pressure.  I would have given anything for someone to lay me across their lap and pat me on the back :)

Saturday I woke up after a fairly decent rest and downed a shot of hydrocodine and had a cup of coffee.  My God it was like the elixir of life!  I took a shower, went to the grocery store, cleaned up the kitchen, finished the laundry and cleaned out all the winter 'fat' clothes in my closet.  By 7:30 I was wondering how I was going to spend the next week of "recovery" now that I was feeling so well. 

Then the downturn.  I don't know if it was the first protein shake, not staying hydrated enough, pushing too hard, not leaving enough time lapse before consuming more liquids or the combination of all of it...but I was exhausted, hungry...and tired of jello.  Looked in my little book of "allowable" food and was overwhelmingly excited that I had overlooked 'cream of  (blank)' soup!  Granted, they said 98% fat free soup...but real f'ing soup!  Not another cup of watered down chicken broth!!  And incredibly, I actually had a can in the cupboard.  Must have been some old guilt driven purchase on many of my attempts to eat somewhat healthier :)  So in the microwave did that can go and like mother's milk...I was off to night night land.

So forget about pizza dreams - I had one hell of a doozey on Campbell's Cream of Celery!  I was on a crazy maze of underground tracks with my ex-boyfriend Joe in a labyrinth of man-made rubbery playscapes submerged beneath a subdivision in Los Angeles.  I kept trying to get out, frequently thinking we had succeeded as we dove through peoples houses and out what we thought was a front door only to be trapped again in the never ending loop.  I am sure Freud would have a field day with that...but I think it more likely I had watched one too many episodes of "Bodacious Backyards" on HGTV - where everyone seemed to have a water slide.

At 2:30am Monday, I woke up again feeling bloated and tired.  I decided I should do what most others are want to do on Memorial Day...and take it easy.  I forewent the drugs and concentrated on careful, calculated hydration.  To no particular avail.  Since I was up however, I did keep my one promise to myself and started my walking program. 

Several weeks ago, I had enlisted the aid of my 62 year old neighbor I call Mrs. Kravits.  She is a born co-dependent with a family in desperate need of a day on Jerry Springer...but God love her, I couldn't have the life I do without her.  She is nosy and overbearing, and opinionated (hmmm, that sounds familiar) but she graciously takes on the parts of my life I sometimes can't or won't do.  She brings my garbage cans in from the street, let's my dogs out to play, and happily helps me dust when I can't bring myself to do it alone. 

She was the person most averse to this surgery - but I think she has great skepticism of hospitals in general.  Most of her family who've gone in...don't come out.  But I finally told her she was either with me or keeping quiet.  I also told her she had a job.  Since she's a habitual walker anyway - she could show up on my front door at 6am and tell me to get my shoes on.  I then calmly explained that for at least 2 months I would come ungratefully to the door and offer her 999 reasons why I couldn't go, shouldn't go, or didn't want to go.  She then had permission to look me straight in the eye and tell me to shut my big fat pie-hole and get dressed.  That I was the one who wanted to have this fucking surgery and if I was so hell bent on doing it - I'd better learn to walk.  I told her to use that as a direct quote so she wouldn't feel bad using the "f" word.  I then told her that I would likely be churly and uncommunicative and very grateful if she would not attempt to engage in conversation until I had accepted this daily routine.  She seemed resigned to accept the task if not eager to embrace the guidelines.  So Monday morning, bright and early - we made the short, but progressive first step of walking from our little cul-de-sac to the end of our road and back again.  I promise progress...not perfection.  We will do this for a week, adding a 1/2 block every week until I can do a mile or two each morning.

But as the day wore on, so did my attitude.  Not unhappy, but frustrated.  By 9pm, I gave in and took another shot of liquid calm.  Comfort and bliss restored.  I watched more regular programming, spoke to family, and had my first real nights sleep in my own bed rather than the sofa.  At 6 am, as promised, Mrs. Kravits was at my door.  I did not offer protest - but grudgingly shuffled into my sport bra and sneakers before mutely walking out the door.

Rather than continue to fight against my recovery - I got home and took another shot of pain meds, poured myself a cup of coffee and got to work again comfortably.  I re-organized the kitchen a bit - making room for what I know will be a lifetime of protein shakes and vitamin supplements.  Only I could use this knowledge to rationalize a trip to the Container Store for practical and decorative storage tools for said products.  I hate the idea of medicine bottles lined up along my counter.  Might as well make them look like candy :)  If life gives you lemons as they say...might as well make lemonaide.

Hope this catches everyone up.  Thanks again for all the lovely calls and posts.  One step at a time...one step at a time.

Cam