Utterly Random

Lots of random thougths cross my mind each day ... usually the thoughts aren't worthy of a blog post in and of themselves.  The jury is still out whether they're worthy of a blog post all lumped together, but let's give it a try.

• It always catches me off guard when folks ask me how much weight I've lost.  I say that because I've not ceased to be humbled by the many expressions of genuine care and interest in my life -- it means more than I can adequately express.  However, while I don't mind talking about my weight -- and I say this with all possible due respect -- asking about what size pants I wear is a little odd!  :)
• A week ago, perhaps in a moment of sheer dilerious longing for spring, I bought a fleece vest.  I imagined wearing it on those brisk mornings where an extra layer would be nice, and easy enough to shed in the warmer afternoon.  Once upon a time, a 40 degree day would not feel cold to me.  Now, I wear the vest indoors all day.  It adds a bit of bulk underneath the old winter coat that's far too big, in order to keep the wind from whipping up from underneath.  Having been warm-natured my whole life, this sudden change in my internal thermostat may be the oddest discovery to date.  I'm grateful for the drawstring of all my way-too-big old flannel pajama pants -- my default wardrobe choice at home.
• Ridding my closet of shirts, slacks, and suits that are far too big to ever consider wearing was more difficult than I ever imagined.  I'm grateful Molly and my mother-in-law were able to see around a corner I hadn't -- ridding the closets of summerwear, and from a conversation they had my mother-in-law came up with a plan to transform my short-sleeve Hawaiian shirt collection into a quilt.  I'm curious what my new style will become this summer -- because unlike a few leftover long-sleeve shirts I found in the back of the closet from years gone by, I don't own a single work-appropriate short-sleeve shirt that fits. 
• Old patterns are tough to break.  My whole life, my stomach has deceived my eyes into eating too-big portions.  And now, my eyes deceive my stomach:  no matter how small the portion I put on my plate, it's too much.  You'd think I'd learn, but each time I make the same mistake.  On a related note:  I'm ready for some creative farmer to figure out how to market half an egg.
• I had surgery six weeks ago.  Reality is, I had more energy six days after surgery than I do now.  The first week after surgery, I walked 80,000 in six days as part of an employer/health insurance health challenge.  That seems insurmountable now.  I'm not certain why that is.  The nutritionist at the bariatric center says this fatigue isn't unusual, that this is the body's reaction to this "medically-induced starvation".  She also says typically surgery patients experience a surge of energy at three months post-op.  I'm praying she's right.  I can't wait. 
• As my body adjusts to carrying less weight, regular visits with the chiropractor have been essential.  The chiropractor strongly urges me to consider massage -- something I've never pursued mostly because of my self-consciousness caused by several fatty tumor-like deposits on my back that I've had as long as I can remember.  After an adjustment a couple weeks ago, he noticed that all the lypomas are gone!  Our best guess is this is an added benefit of the liquid diet-purge of fat stored in the liver.  Now all I have to do is compete with Molly for the next splurge on a massage!
• I continue to progress through the reintroduction of food.  This next week is the biggest and most varied week so far -- reintroducing chicken, pasta, tomato sauce, bread, raw veggies, beans, rice, and nuts.  It's weird what I've missed food-wise and what I have not.  My greatest cravings have consistently been for tortilla chips (and queso dip), blueberry muffins, and cucumber -- not necessarily hoping to remedy this craving in the same sitting.  Oh, and popcorn.  Good grief, I miss ordinary air-popped popcorn.  I get it back in a couple weeks.  Can't wait.

Every day it gets better, a little easier, and more familiar.  I can't wait for summertime fresh foods and opportunities to be more active.  While I have no particular ultimate destination in mind nor a timeline of when I expect to get there, I have reason to hope I will have lost most of my excess weight by the end of the summer.  No, this hasn't stopped feeling surreal.

The Facts of Life

You take the good, you take the bad
You take them both and there you have
The Facts of Life ... The Facts of Life....

The theme song of that bad old '80s sitcom that I and others of my generation grew up on rattles in my head sometimes, especially recently.  In an effort to be true and real, I can't adequately name life at the moment without acknowledging there's good and bad.  Guess those are the facts of life.

Monday began a new stage of food reintroduction.  This week is all about toast, cheese, fish, crackers, and natural peanut butter.  In two days, all that's stayed down has been a few low-fat Wheat Thins with half a wedge of Laughing Cow cheese and a few bites of peanut butter toast.  Everything else has been a fail, as in, if it won't go down it'll only sit in your esophagus so long before it comes back up.  (Last week's soft food reintroductions went better, although let's just say that mashed potatoes weren't the friend they used to be during other surgery recoveries.)  Of course, this isn't altogether unexpected given the trauma of surgery, and the fact that the main internal surgical line for me is right at the point where the esophagus and stomach meet.  Yesterday, anything I ate resulted in hellacious hiccups, which only ceased after food reversed course.  Today, I ate nothing the first half of the day due to a funeral I was to officiate -- for me, the nightmare scenario is hiccups while trying to eulogize the communion of the saints' newest member.  And after tonight, I don't think I'll be dining on tuna fish anytime soon. 

The task for me, I'm discovering, is to not let my mind run too far to either extreme.  I'm exactly three weeks post-surgery -- far too early to claim a success, but likewise far too early to run for the hills, either.  I'm finding it difficult to be gentle with myself -- I become frustrated by my own fatigue (I went back to work late last week).  I try to confine my mood swings to home best I can -- though I'm utterly embarrassed by the numerous times my temporarily misplacing random, hardly-important inanimate objects has left me utterly apoplectic.  And I'm cold -- all. the. time.  If you know me, you know that's the wildest side-effect of all!

And yet, I'm also full of joy.  Last week, thanks to my new pedometer, I jumped headlong into the my employer/health insurance HealthMiles challenge to walk 70,000 steps in seven days.  I threw my pedometer in my pocket, loaded my Netflix cue on my iPhone app, plugged in my headphones and jumped on our treadmill.  I got to 70,000 steps in six days.  I couldn't have done that a month ago.  And over the weekend I stepped on the scales and discovered, probably for the first time in my life, that I weigh less than my driver's license says I do!  Molly was quick to tell me that I couldn't run out right then and re-do my license, but I assured her I wouldn't be waiting another five years before renewal to update.  Yes, I am that vain!

Molly's Aunt Jan dropped me a note yesterday and asked how I was feeling.  She caught me between bouts of sickness and I replied about what a sucky day it had been.  Her response resonated in me.  With her permission, I share a bit:

I know your girls are your inspiration. You are the little train that could. Isn't life one day at a time anyway? Wrapped in long-term planning? You'll go through periods where you redefine "normal." Each "normal" will be better than the last. It's hard to remember as we look at our feet taking each step that at the end of the hike is the prettiest set of falls. What picture is at the end of this leg of the hike?

Truth be told, I don't yet know what picture is at the end of this leg of the hike.  I very much feel like I'm meeting my new self each day.  Ironically, I feel like more of myself instead of less.  The journey's only begun, and surely there will be more bad days as well as good ones.  Not to sound too cliche, but I guess those are the facts of life