Chicken or the Egg? (Mmm. . .chicken. . .)

Day SEVEN of this insane diet.  I'll be the first to say that I'm shocked I haven't capitulated and downed a Chipotle burrito in five seconds flat.  Just typing that sentence made me salivate a little.  And I'm not even joking.  

I'm not sure if I'm mourning the loss of food in my life, or if I'm just extra raw right now, BUT I CANNOT STOP CRYING.  Last night I cried because the UK basketball game made me miss my Dad.  I cried this morning watching Live at Lincoln Center on PBS because I love Gershwin.  I actually, genuinely enjoyed my breakfast protein shake.  I kind of want to cry right now because I'm sitting here writing about crying.  SHUT.  IT.  DOWN.

I met with the anesthesia department yesterday as my last hoop before the big day.  It hit me very suddenly there that this is actually happening and is no longer just a theoretical thing I'm considering.  I called the insurance company to double check they know it's happening.  I bought fuzzy socks for cold hospital floors.  Holy balls, I'm really doing this.

I feel the sudden urge to just wipe everything else out of my life and concentrate on this only because I can't think about the small stuff right now.  There's been some very minor, very little work drama happening, and I just need to brush it off my shoulders because I have bigger fish to fry (mmm...fish fry...).  My life is going to change on Wednesday.  There has really one been a few moments in my life where I KNEW my life was about to change in big ways:  When my Dad died, when I became a teacher, and now this.  There's something very scary about the whole notion of jumping off that ledge into something I don't know at all.  I see examples, I have watched SO MANY VLOGS, and yet I have no more idea of what's in store for ME than when I started.  And to be quite blunt:  This scares the shit out of me.

The anesthesiologist asked me yesterday if I had any concerns, and I laughed a little and thought, "Yes, that I won't wake up."  Yes, that is a huge concern.  To die right now would really suck.  My family would see the clutter in my house and would judge me.  But another concern now is WAKING up.  What will be awaiting me on the other end?  It's as much a mystery to me as what is waiting should I not.

So there I am now.  A crying, thoughtful, existential mess.  And heading to a child's birthday party tomorrow.  Good Jesus, take the wheel!

It's All About Me

So I told my friend, the cancer patient, the other day how miserable I was on this liquid diet.  I whined and whined as she sat in her little scooter because walking is so painful.  And when I think back to that convo, I just want to slap myself.  Good Jesus!  You know what sucks worse that my cream of tomato soup having a funky protein powder smell? Chemo.

But isn't that how this kind of endeavor is supposed to be?  Isn't this a real practice in self-indulgence? Sure some people would have opted for a nice spa day and not the partial removal of an organ, but I have a long history of not following the herd.  I am hearing myself go on and on and I can't help but think people are about over it.  I'm about over it.  I am looking forward to the day when I don't reply to a "how are you?" with a conversation about my bowel issues.

Says the girl writing about this in a blog.

I feel good, though.  Strangely good.  Like energetic good.  Like maybe I should have been doing this 800 calorie thing the whole time, good.  I am not horribly hungry or depressed anymore.  I haven't gone to bed at 4:30p again like I did on day 2.  I am starting to think that I have either entered that place of inner peace that happens right before you die or I am night eating.  I can't decide which.

The whole thing is making me think that all those dirty hippies I used to mock might have been right. Free of toxins, I am feeling good.  Gives me hope.

And speaking of hope:  I told myself that if I made it to day 5 I would let myself cheat with a small Wendy's chili. I went to Wendy's tonight but did the right thing and got my usual side salad.  As a reward for my perseverance, I got a sign from someone.  The man in front of me paid for said salad and drove off before I could thank him.

Yes, I'm feeling hopeful.  A complete stranger just validated my decisions.  I'm glad he took off before I started telling him about my bowels.

Day One, Start Over Again

It might be psychosomatic, but this pre-op liquid diet isn't easy.  It's been a WHOLE FIVE HOURS, too.  Okay, maybe it is my dramatic side flaring up again, but I can't help but miss chewing.  I remember last night, how good it felt to move my jaw and chew those goodbye chicken fingers and goodbye coleslaw.  Oh, Lee's Chicken.  You were too wonderful for anyone to realize you.

I have decided that I am going to approach the next few weeks as if I were on some sort of spiritual cleanse.  I will meditate.  I will breathe deeply.  I will not murder one of my students in a "hangry" attack.  I will basically be like Gandhi for 10 whole days as I work my way through this challenge.  As my sister so wisely put it, I'm in the desert being tempted by the devil. . .and applesauce.

I always prided myself on dieting sensibly.  No crash diets for me!  I took some pills, I downloaded an app, I joined and dropped out of Weight Watchers so many times it was embarrassing. A lot of the above worked just not long term.  My deep love of food always won out.  So now that I am facing a break-up of  a sorts, I'm preparing myself for an emotional scene, the metaphorical waiting outside its apartment at 3am until it comes home so I can confront it and beg it to love me.  Yikes.  I swore I would never do that again no matter how metaphorical it was.

When I decided to pursue the surgical option, I found that there were a lot of hoops to jump through to prepare you for what was ahead.  My first night was just an informational meeting.  I arrived and immediately noticed that the doors to the clinic were wider than any doorway in the hospital.  The chairs were also oversized, enough room for me and a buddy if we squeezed in.  I immediately felt petite and small, a bad thing if their end goal was to operate.  If the seats had been an airplane seat, I would have let them cut me open right then and there.

And that's where I found myself a couple times a week for the next several weeks.  I would look at the other people in the waiting room and try to figure out if they were post or pre op.  Would I get her hips?  Would my hands look that delicate?  Would those oversized chairs become bigger and bigger with every follow up visit?  It was exciting to think about, and so I thought about it ALL THE TIME.

I have other thoughts now, too, though, thoughts that go beyond what size jeans I'll be wearing in 6 months.  I think about things like what will happen if I fail at this, too, like I've failed at every other weight loss attempt.  I think about what forever actually means.  I think about turning back.  I think about turning back and then dropping dead somewhere while everyone comments about how very young I was. I think about every time I was made to feel less than because of my size.  I think about how I was the biggest culprit of that.  It's like I'm forcing my back against a wall right now, and I have to face down all these things that have been building up in my mind for 27 years now.

But for now, I think I will just let myself think about how hungry I am.  At least that's a thought I am used to dealing with.

And So We Begin

I am just hours away from beginning my liquid diet for my pre-op requirements.  I am not sure how I am typing this without shoving a goodbye Snickers in my face at the same time, but I am showing some amazing restraint already.  Maybe this won't be so bad.  

I hesitate to call this a "journey" because that word implies that I have embarked on some sort of mystical quest that will lead  me to a place of transformation and renewal.  However, I am just not sure where this will lead me.  But everyone else refers to it as such, so here we go.  My JOURNEY began many months ago when I decided to look into bariatric surgery options.  In very rapid succession, two dear people in my life revealed to me they had the Sleeve procedure or were about to have it.  It was like a sign, a blinding light, me knocked off my ass.  

A few classes, a million appointments, and countless hours of doubt and anxiety later, I am 10 days away from having 85% of my stomach removed.  In case you didn't know, they can't attach it again later should I change my mind and want to go to that Chinese buffet by my sister's house again.  That's a HUGE commitment.  I love Chinese buffet...

I thought I would start this blog for me to record the steps of my JOURNEY with no interest more that simply keeping record of things I will probably one day find hard to remember.  Maybe someone will stumble upon it and I can be a source of comfort or the world's most effective cautionary tale.  I suppose time will tell on that one.  Either way, here it is.  This is me - just another pretty face hoping to make the rest of me, inside and out, show as much potential.