For those who don't know, when you undergo a weight loss surgery (referred to as WLS by those in the 'industry'), your entire diet changes. This can be more radical or flexible depending on which procedure you undergo, and for mine it simply means that for the month post-op, my eating will be very different. After six weeks, my body will have recovered from the trauma we put it through, and I'll be able to rejoin my friends in going out to eat, dining on regular meals (albeit much smaller portions and much smarter, healthier choices for the vast majority of the time). However, some stuff always stays 'different'.
The week after surgery, you're on clear liquids. That literally means water, sugar-free Kool Aid or Crystal Light, unsweetened/decaf tea and coffee, and broth. The lifesaver aspect is three little words--- Sugar. Free. Popsicles. These are not only recommended, they're fully encouraged by your doctor, and they're a great, sorta-healthy way to not only get hydration but to soothe your achy, nauseous tummy and fuzzy, dry throat and mouth.
The problem is, they want you to have 64 oz of liquid a day if you can, which is a lot even for a non-operated-on person who isn't used to it. The concept is that you sip sip sip throughout the day; there shouldn't be a time in your waking hours when you don't have a sipper-cup full of water or your sugar-free clear liquid of choice within arm's reach, just slurping away. You can't gulp, no matter how thirsty you are, because a gulp--- how to explain it. Your stomach's been reduced to the size of a few measly inches and it's also swollen and sore. If you take a big gulp of water, it feels good for the first second or so. Then somewhere in your chest it turns into Artax trying to get out of the quicksand; you can't have just gotten heartburn from water, right? But it feels like you swallowed a gerbil or something, there's a lump in your chest that aches and you can't fix it. Then the water slides down to your belly, feeling heavy and making you feel like you just swallowed half a hamburger or something in one bite, and you kind of sit there motionless and stunned like what the hell did I just do? So no, no big gulps for you. Tiny birdy sips that make you look ridiculous and kind of give you carpal tunnel from holding a cup/bottle all day long. That's the pirate's life for you!
I am not good at liquids.
When I was released from the hospital on Friday, two of my absolute besties in the entire world who live near the clinic were gracious enough to offer to take care of me for a few days. We're working on an upcoming horror film project together and I had to be there Sunday anyway, so rather than try to drive or arrange a motel or anything like that, Shawn and Jeff were kind enough to open up their home and let me be the English Patient in their spare bedroom for a few days. During this time I was also supposed to use my spirometer, which looks like a weird breathalyzer mixed with a baby rattle--- it's an instrument you put in your mouth and suck (shut up) and it makes a small yellow lever rise up the different levels until you peak out. You do this ten times every hour or so for the first day, and slowly step down after a couple of days; it helps prevent pneumonia as well as strengths the blood sacs in your lungs post-surgery. Shawn was good about prodding me to do it because God knows I was trying to avoid sucking on it (it made my stomach muscles tighten, which wasn't fun-feeling), and he also gave me a very lovely gift over that weekend--- Sobe LifeWater, which is freaking delicious. Nectar of the gods. One of the tastiest things I'd ever put in my mouth, and one of the easiest things to keep down I'd tried yet.
Today though. Today marked the end of my seven days of hellish water and Powerade Zero diet, so last night I decided to do an experiment. On Week 2 you're cleared for 'full liquids'; this means fat-free or skim milk, drinkable yogurt, and cream-based soups. Campbell's makes a soup called Sweet Tomato and Basil Bisque, which I'd bought on the grounds of 'it's cream-based and doesn't seem chunky', so I poured a tiny bit into a mini-Tupperware and heated it up.
I don't think I've ever had sex as good as that first little baby-spoonful of soup last night.
It was all I could do not to inhale it; I paced myself, knowing that I could only have a few bites. I put on Urban Legend to watch while I ate, and I kept an eye on the movie; every three minutes I'd allow myself one spoonful. Then I'd set down the spoon, watch the movie, and let it digest before taking the next bite. In doing so, I realized that by the time Joshua Jackson was hanging from a tree while Alicia Witt frantically tried to escape the parka-clad killer, I was full. In the pre-surgery days, I would camp out with a bag of Fritos and a can of spinach dip, or crack open a soda and slice up a block of cheese and a box of crackers; I would keep idly eating until the scene where they find Robert Englund's body in the trunk of the car, at the very least. I wouldn't give myself time to realize I was hungry, so I'd consume more calories during a movie than I think you're supposed to eat in a day.
This weekend my friends and I went to see Mama, and they armed themselves with nachos and popcorn. I had a bottle of water and a straw. On Saturday we went to an Indian restaurant and I eyed their dishes and smelled them appreciatively, but I had LifeWater and a straw. They brought home cheeseburgers and fries; I watched TV and tried not to ask Jeff if I could lick his fries for their salt content. But it amazed me; I didn't want the food. My brain wanted it, of course; I'm a life-long fatty. I wanted to drink the weird faux-cheese that came with Shawn's nachos and I wanted to bathe in the liquid butter Jeff put on the popcorn, and I was trying to figure out if I could puree a hamburger during my 'soft foods' phase for Week 3. But it was all mental. In reality, once I distracted myself with watching the movie or talking to people or something else, the craving went away and I was actually perfectly content with my lot in life not indulging in bad food.
This teaches me two things--- one. I am DEFINITELY more of an emotional eater than a physiological one, and if I can learn to distract myself from those urges, then I can get a grip on my constant need to stuff things in my face.
Two: I know there are a few people who are against WLS, or think people who need it are 'weak'. Some people go from morbidly obese to fit by means of eating right and exercising, and to them I can only say kudos because it takes a monumental amount of patience, strength, willpower and perseverance to do so. I've tried and I fall off the wagon more than the people in Oregon Trail and Lindsay Lohan combined.
I don't view my gastric sleeve as a 'get skinny quick' type thing. It isn't snake oil, it isn't HCG drops that go under your tongue or some weird fad diet that no one can possibly stick to. This is a lifelong commitment and there's very little 'easy' about it. I have to think about not only what I'm eating, but what it'll do for me. Think of my stomach as a carry-on bag now; I have to pack light, but somehow get everything I need into that one little suitcase. That means I have to make smart choices and plan ahead for my meals. It means I can't just grab McDonald's when I'm running late for school, because that can throw off my entire day and make me feel sick as a dog. It means I can't drink a gallon-cup of Coke at the movie theater because then I won't be able to eat food for the rest of the night. It's a tool, just like anything else; we're still expected to exercise and eat right, we take multi-vitamins and B12 and count our carbs and proteins, and we still have to be accountable for our actions.
So today I drove to Dallas with my grandma and my uncle, and I was told that my incisions looked awesome. A lady with a weird metal puller-scissor-thingie pulled the staples out of my body and put on Steri-Strips instead and told me to enjoy my week of soups. And then they weighed me.
321.
That means I'm down 27 pounds in a week.
I know it's simply because no solid food's passed my lips, but the thing is, I'm not starving myself. I'm getting nutrients. I'm taking care of myself. I don't feel weird or tired or weak. Tuesday I parked my car at the Business and Technology building on campus, walked to my math class, climbed a flight of stairs to get there, then walked across campus to the MAC building, climbed a flight of stairs, attended two classes, went back downstairs, walked back to my car, and drove home, all while carrying a 15-pound backpack and a purse that looks like Mary Poppins' carpetbag. Even on a GOOD day pre-op that would've left my ankles hurting and my knees complaining, and I would've been winded, especially from the stair-climbing. But I actually felt good if you ignored the soreness in my side.
My jeans, which are super-expensive Se7en jeans from Lane Bryant and I'm gonna be kinda bummed to say goodbye to them because they're legit like $80 a pair and SO comfortable and these aren't even all worn-out or faded yet, are falling off my hips and sagging in the ass and big in the back of my thighs. They look stupid on me, like big JNCO jeans instead of the fitted bootleg ones that I bought just before Halloween and used to have to lay down to zip after they came out of the dryer. They're size 22. They are pretty much goners; thank fuck I have a lot of 20s left from my skinnier days, looks like I'll be revisiting them in the next couple of days.
In 21 pounds, I can say goodbye to the 300s, hopefully forever. And that alone, coupled with the excitement of getting to eat actual SOUP instead of just water and LifeWater, means today was a pretty fucking fantastic day.
No comments:
Post a Comment