Potato Fail

I’ve been dealing with quite a bit of pain from my exhaust port (Star Wars fans unite!). I mean my drain site. It’s closed, it’s without infection, but sweet Jesus does it hurt. I get phantom pins elsewhere, but that spot feels like I’ve broken a rib.  Despite all that, I got a call from a friend of mine I haven’t seen in a year asking if I wanted to go with him to see some Grateful Dead tribute band. While that scene is not what I normally volunteer for, I value my friendship with him more than I would like to avoid discomfort. So I napped just after lunch, and drove an hour to see him.nap-time

We caught up for a little bit. He was cooking what smelled like a tasty oven meatball pizza. I knew I could avoid that temptation because I haven’t eaten pizza in almost a year. Or less…. Anyway, he offered up some herbal painkiller, I declined. He asked if I could do shots, I said no. We went back and forth like that for a while, until I had to explain in detail what I’d had done, and how things could not and would not be the same. He asked what I could eat, I told him at this point, fish or chicken would do fine, and I’d drink water. He wanted me to spend the night but I told him I didn’t want to be that far out of my routine. Fortunately that was not something I had to explain.

My friend and I went to a local pub, one we visited fairly often when I lived up that way. They were kind enough to just cook me up three ounces of baked haddock with no butter. The vegetables were of the squash variety, and that was certainly not happening. So I asked for a little mashed potato to round the meal out.  had two or three small bites of potato. It was very dry, and not very tasty. The fish was good, but I only had room for about half of it. It did not take me long to realize I’d eaten too much. I’ve only been cleared for ground food for a day at that point, and I’m trying to acclimatize.  I ran to the bathroom to throw up, and couldn’t. I went back to the table, apparently a little greener around the gills. I knew this wasn’t going away anytime soon, so I begged off from the show. My friend kindly paid the bill, and I brought him home, and headed for my house. never-eating-again

I made it a quarter-mile before I had to pull over and throw up. Hard. Like sprain my stomach hard. The liquid/solid was over quickly. The dry heaves continued. Once I realized I was done, I got back on the road feeling better. When I got home, I figured I’d better replace the protein, so I had a protein shake. Which made its glorious reappearing a short time later while I was FaceTiming. When I rejoined the call, I had to quickly end it so I could throw up again. Let’s just leave it at I did not reach my liquid goal nor did I reach my protein goal. I have not today either, because I’m a little tentative about putting anything in my stomach.

What did I learn? The “potatoes for Thanksgiving” issue is settled. I really need to be selective about going out. I need to make a plan and a schedule for my food like now. I need to accept the reality of naps in my schedule now. I need to develop habits now, kind of like striking while the iron is hot. no-more-food

I as asked again today if I regretted having the surgery. I still can’t answer that question. I’ve still not had an episode of acid reflux, and for that I am incredibly grateful. That was the primary reason for the surgery. I’m down to 247. One more and I’m down 20 since the day of surgery. I ran into a coworker today and we chatted for a minute. A little bit later I got a text from another coworker who said, “Chris said you look skinny.” I had to laugh. Those two words, “you (meaning me, of course)” and “skinny,” have not been used in the same sentence in 12 years, maybe more. It was nice. But do I regret having the surgery?

I still don’t know.

Until next time, peeps…



One thought on “Potato Fail

  1. I’ve been thinking about you since your post the other day and now this too, on top of that. 😦 So sorry to hear that you’re struggling and feeling uncertain about your surgery. That really, really sucks.

    Know what else sucks? Eating and feeling so sick the way you describe in this post. It happened to me *this morning* and all I ate was 1 egg and some non-dairy cheese. Stuff I eat all the time! But my body was having none of it. I’ve been curled up in a fetal position for 3 hours. :-/ So even in my Wonderland of “Yay Surgery”, it still sucks sometimes. 😦 I get that frustration and disappointment when you feel like you can’t even go out for a drink, food, and a concert like a normal person! I’m working on being at peace with that myself and dealing with naysayers at Thanksgiving is giving me lots of anxiety, to be honest. So I hear ya.

    Like you’re learning though, some of the time it does come down to planning and bringing your own food with you when you go out. I really do keep protein bars and baggies of almonds and pouches of peanut butter with me and in my car for this very reason. But that doesn’t make it any less awkward when everyone else is having beer and snacks and you’re eating 14 almonds and waiting 30 mins to even gave a drink of water! Lol

    Lately I’ve been thinking about it as ‘protecting myself’ rather than as a pain in the ass, prohibitor, embarrassment, frustration. Protecting myself may sound weird, but what I mean is I’m trying to view not having pizza or turkey dinner or buffalo wings (or in my case: cakes and pies) as a decision to protect my body, to give it nourishment not comfort, to give it food I know it can tolerate versus gambling with tempting goodies. And that radical. To me, and most definitely to everyone around me. But it works. But even I have days where I have to remind myself of that and all my reasons why I’m doing this.

    I think you’re going to get to a place where you can do that too. Where you become so fiercely protective of what you’re working to create – and of the changes you’re making in your life – that it’ll all just fall in to place. It’ll start to feel like you’re doing all this for a reason that you care so much about that it’s worth it.


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