Author: Michelle

While I love being at home rather than at work, especially given what work is like right now, it is less fun when I have multiple surgically inflicted stab wounds.

I really enjoy mentioning the stab wounds.

People are stupid. Or maybe just colossally unprepared. I am in a few online bariatric surgery groups, and I am perpetually surprised by the questions people ask. It’s like they’ve had this major surgery without even reading the most basic information ahead of time. “What are we allowed to eat now that we’re home?” “When can we go back to work?” “What is a protein shake?” “Why have I only lost 7 lbs this week?” Some of these people should have their stomachs put back until they’ve done some reading. Especially the ones complaining that they have “only” lost some huge amount of weight.

That being said, I am also one of the stupid people. I have a call in to my surgeon’s office because I don’t remember which specific date I am supposed to return to work. I’m sure my boss expects me to be back at some point. I have 3 different dates written down.

PJ Harvey is wonderful.

My cat is useless at domestic chores, and 13 is excellent at them.

Routine maintenance on a Lexus is stupidly expensive.

Autocorrect wants to capitalize the weirdest shit.

I am simultaneously surprised that I am doing so much better than I thought I would be after 9 days and that I am still prone to hitting a wall and needing a nap. Yesterday afternoon I took a 5 hour nap and then went to bed at 9:30 and slept all the way through the night. I never take naps!

There is a limit to how many classic films even I can watch in one day.

I never get tired of Bette Davis.

If I get a rotisserie chicken so 13 has real food for dinner, I am very sorry that I can’t have any of it, and I compensate by not letting the cat have any of it either.

I am not a very nice person.

When recovering from surgery, it is important not to be consumed by world news. Particularly news involving the person currently occupying the White House.

It is a lot harder than you might think to get 68 ounces of fluid and 90gms of protein into your stomach when it’s the size of a banana.

If you swallow more than you should at one time, you will be very sorry.

My refrigerator is filthy.

I’m going for a walk now, rather than face the filthy fridge.

Filthy Fridges would be a good band name.

On Monday 6/4, I had my surgery. Vertical sleeve gastrectomy, for anyone in a Googling mood. Robot assisted. Five stab wounds to the abdomen. The surgeon removed about 85% of my stomach through the largest stab wound, which is turning a lovely shade of mustard yellow at this point. I’m feeling much better than I expected to so soon after surgery. The largest incision site is still a little sore, but other than that I’m doing great. Getting plenty of fluids and protein, and walking. That’s pretty much my entire assignment for the two weeks after surgery. Drink a lot of water and protein shakes, and go for short walks. Rest. Nothing too stressful.

I’m reading and watching old movies and cooking shows while I sip water. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be up to making some prints. Or maybe I’ll do a little knitting. I ran the Roomba today. Scrambled some eggs for 13 last night, but didn’t want to stand up long enough to cook bacon. This morning I tried to go for a walk in the park, but rain cut the walk off at 14 minutes. Tonight we may go out to watch part of the Timber’s game. Or not, if I am too tired.

It’s a little weird not having to cook for myself or do anything around the house.

That’s what’s up in my world right now.

Thanks to Ma and Larry for coming up and making sure I was OK, and thanks to 13 for continuing to take care of me.

Things are good, and I’m happy.

With less than 24 hours to go before I hit the operating room, I have been doing a lot of thinking, planning and wondering. Even more than usual. This week has been full of firsts and lasts for me.

First holiday with the new guy. First time ice skating together. Yes, Tony skated circles around me. And he taught me to stop. And he didn’t let me fall down. We also had our first day off together. First trip to the coast together. Thanks for letting us bomb by your place and watch soccer, Ken and Nicole!

Friday was my last day of work for several weeks. I may come back to no job or a totally different one. That’s a strange feeling. My boss promises to text me with any important updates.

I had my last happy hour with my work buddies. Last lamb bowl with Paddy.  Last lunch at the Sportsman’s Pub. My last macaroni and cheese at the Fanno Creek Pub. It’s the last solid food I’ll have for several weeks, and I enjoyed every bite of it.

I also drank the  last booze I will drink for the foreseeable future. RPM at the Sportsman’s Pub in PC. Ninkasi at my baby brother’s house. A red ale in downtown Tigard with dinner, which I couldn’t even finish.

Most monumental of all? This morning I had my last cup of coffee until after surgery.  I am guessing that I may not be totally compliant with the recommendation to avoid caffeine for an extended period after surgery. I can be hydrated and caffeinated at the same time.

Nervousness hasn’t hit me yet. I feel like everything is organized. I just need to remember to give the cat extra food and water in the morning since no one will be at the house on Monday after I leave. I’ve got my stuff packed for the hospital, and just need to tidy up a little bit today while “enjoying” my first day with only liquids to eat. Just after typing that, I sliced my finger open while trying to put a knife away. Maybe I should skip the tidying up for now…

Other than that? Just get me to the hospital and let me get on with it. I feel like there are a lot of good things waiting for me and I want to start loving them. (Autocorrect really wants to use loving instead of living so I am leaving it in. Call it a Freudian autocorrect slip)

New boyfriend. New job. New stomach. Is that how it usually goes? Where the fuck did all of my stress go? Why am I not angsty? Who is this calm, happy person who is not worried about anything?

Was I replaced by a Pod Person? Should I actually be worrying a little more?

Do I seem like myself to you?

How ’bout if I confess that I woke up in the middle of the night convinced that 13 had gotten up and left without telling me? Yes,  he was right there in bed with me. All I needed to do was reach out.

Yeah, I’m definitely still me.