Overwhelmed By Pizza

The upside to bariatric surgery is huge: improved health, increased mobility, enhanced self-esteem. Not to mention the whole "much more likely to live past 60" thing. At no time since I had surgery have I seriously wished I had not undergone the procedure.

But...(you knew there was a but, didn't you?), some days are a little more difficult than others.

Yesterday was the first full day of the 2016-2017 NFL season. Now, once upon a time, I used to be a football fanatic. But, for many years now, football has been something that I sort of enjoyed passively - whenever I could. I tried not to think about it too much. Other than our yearly SuperBowl blowout, I was no longer very involved with football.

Why? Because, since the onset of epilepsy, I have no longer been able to afford cable. No cable means no real football choices. In New Mexico, regular football programming means watching either the Denver Broncos or the Dallas Cowboys. Out of respect to my friends and family members who are die-hard fans of those franchises, let me put it this way: those two teams are not my optimal choices.

This year, however, things are different - my brother managed to wrangle Lor and I a DirecTV subscription as part of our cell phone service. This year's subscription just happens to include NFL Direct Ticket - meaning that I can watch any game playing on any given Sunday. Even my hapless Miami Dolphins. Yes, I am masochistic like that.

I have been so excited for football season this year. I joined a fantasy football league. I cleared my schedule on every Sunday from now through Christmas. I loaded up every single electronic device I own with various apps that would enable me to keep track of updates, scores, and injuries.  I even parked my laptop next to me so that I could write during breaks in the action.

Cause, you know, football is serious business.

Pre-game shows started yesterday at 10 AM, and I was there and ready. I got through the first segment, giddy as a schoolgirl. And then, the commercials began...

I have never noticed before the make-up of commercials during football games. I sure noticed it yesterday. Commercials were (approximately) 25% car commercials, 25% home improvement store commercials, and 1,372% pizza and beer commercials.

You know, pizza and beer. My two favorite foods, now barred to me forever by my altered anatomy post-surgery.

Cheese and pepperoni glowed seductively. Beer flowed endlessly into pint glasses. Happy, smiling people (all in much better shape than I am, I should add) enjoyed the forbidden fruits of my lost dietary loves. 

Halfway through the first game, I was ready to roll the dog in cheese, cover her in tomato sauce, and throw her in the oven. I resisted because I was not comfortable with looking up the nutritional information for "Baked Chihuahua". Seems like all that fur might have a high carb count anyway.

I made it all the way through the Dolphins losing to the Seahawks  in the last 30 seconds of the second game of the day, and then gave up. I was overwrought - completely destroyed by visions of Domino's and Negra Modelo. Which I used to be able to have. You know, like, at the same time. I sat at my desk, staring forlornly at my boiled egg (also known as "lunch"), and wondered how I had come to this: surrounded by advertisements for the foods I loved, unable to have any for fear of losing all the progress I have made so far.

I think, for next week, I will start recording my chosen channels about 2 hours early. That way, I can kinda fast-forward through all the commercials for forbidden foods. I will still see them, but only for a few seconds at a time, not constant series of 30-second spots. 

Or maybe I can have Lor fast-forward for me, while I keep my eyes closed.

Yes, I Had Food Porn Dreams Last Night,

- Hawkwind

The Trouble With Dining (With Friends)

Image courtesy of Two Fools Tavern

Saturday night one of our dear friends celebrated her birthday. We were invited to share in the celebration, and we cautiously agreed to go and participate in what would be our first major social outing since our surgeries.

Initially, everything was wonderful. Much was made of our improved physiques, we answered tons of questions about the surgeries, and in general we got to feel like goodwill ambassadors for bariatric surgery. There were even a few quiet questions about how to get more information about having surgery in the first place. We directed a few folks here to Misdirected, glowing in the radiance of deeds well done.

When we were seated, however, things took a bit of a turn. The London pub-style restaurant seemed to feature nothing but foods that were breaded, or fried, or both. It advertised "the best fish and chips in Albuquerque". I am a huge fan of fish and chips and, sadly, will probably never get to enjoy the dish again. Everywhere I looked, tables were covered with pint glasses filled with Guinness - my all-time favorite beer, and another item that has been permanently removed from my personal menu. Suddenly, I was uncomfortable. 

The menu wasn't helpful. Remember, I am still in the "soft foods" phase of my diet, which means I was not able to just order one their extraordinarily-sized portions and then take the majority home to dine on for the next 4 or 5 days. I kept checking potential entrees with Lor, only to have her veto them as not qualifying as "soft foods". Today, I am happy that she did so. Saturday night...not so much.

Eventually, the menu-related distress was apparent to the guest of honor, who was suddenly horrified. "I completely forgot! Can you even eat anything here?" was her response. I was positive that I was about to single-handedly wreck her birthday celebration, and fervently wished I had just stayed home with my baby food and protein shakes.

I took a deep breath, and told her the truth - that we have been practicing for occasions like this for six months now. This very situation is what the pre-surgical nutritional training is all about. We had chosen to make these changes, and we knew how to make our new diets work even in places without a "low-carb/low-calorie" menu.

Crisis averted, I ordered a cup of beef stew while Lor selected a salad. Lor managed about ten bites of her huge salad. I drank most of my beef broth, had a couple of bites of soft potato and shredded beef, avoided all the still firm vegetables, and I was done. My total intake was probably 3 ounces.

But, as dinner wound up, I looked over the table, covered in take-out boxes and the remains of huge burgers, 6-inch deep Shepherd's Pie, and piles of french fries surrounding fried fish, and had a startling realization: 6 months ago, I would have eaten an entire one of these entrees, and helped Lor finish hers. No take-out boxes for that version of me, no sir. 

That version of me would have wolfed everything down in twenty minutes, and then gone home to play World of Warcraft or watch television.

This version of me ate sparingly and slowly, allowing me to carry on conversations and meet a group of new, interesting people, and continue to socialize with them until nearly midnight.

I know which "me" I prefer.

Still Sad Over The Guinness, Though,

- Hawkwind

Fear of Failure at the Finish Line

Photo Credit: schiiiinken via Compfight cc

After another grueling 8 hours across the desert (including 4 different multiple-mile construction zones) we have returned home. Arizona is safely behind us, and we will not return until the average temperature drops 20 degrees.

At least.

An interesting (and discouraging) shift took place while we were there, though. Throughout the process of switching to a low-carb diet, I have rarely actually been hungry. Even the first 6 days of the liquid diet didn't make me hungry - just cranky and stupid. Oh, I have had cravings, of course. But real, live hunger? That had not been an issue. 

Until our first day in Tucson. 

Since our arrival there 5 days ago I have been ravenous. I have never been closer to breaking diet protocol than I am right now. I am so ready to throw it all away so I can go have a waffle. Topped with blueberries and whipped cream. With 6 fried eggs, and maybe 12 pieces of sausage. And a cheeseburger for dessert. That kind of hunger. My stomach has literally hurt constantly for 5 days straight.

This is not only discouraging, it is frightening as well. I am afraid of "falling off the wagon" and eating so much that I regain enough to disqualify myself for surgery. (Not sure how I would regain 53 pounds in 4 days, but who said fear is rational?) I fear sneaking out behind Lor's back to go binge somewhere and then lying about it when I return home - you know, addict behavior. I am even afraid to be in proximity to pretty much any "real" food right now. When Lor threw away half a boiled egg last night that she couldn't finish, I almost cried.

The real fear, though, is what happens after surgery? I know that removing the greater curvature of the stomach takes with it the majority of the ability to produce ghrelin - the hormone responsible for hunger. But I can't wrap my head around how that will feel right now. My biggest fear is that I am going to come out of surgery and feel exactly the way I feel right now - that my whole life post-surgery is going to be a constant, gnawing hunger that I am fighting off 100% of the time. I know myself well enough to know that I won't succeed in that case. And then all this, including having the majority of one of my major organs removed, will have been for nothing.

Lor keeps trying to encourage me, pointing out the fact that I have been taking in only 600 calories (plus or minus) a day while expending more than 3000 a day in moving activities every day that I have felt this way. I am difficult to encourage. I just know that I have 4 days left until surgery, and I don't want to fall flat on my face, here within sight of the finish line. 

87 hours until I cease eating entirely for surgery prep (at 10 pm on Sunday). Wish me luck in keeping the faith until then.

Dying For A Quarter Pounder,

- Hawkwind

The Post-Birthday Hangover

Birthday Card designed and created by Kristina Daniels.

...you know, the one when you wake up and realize you not only have a mile-long list of stuff to do today but also have to catch up on all the stuff you didn't do yesterday because you were busy goofing off? Yeah. that hangover.

It should have been a great day, really. Due to unexpected circumstances, I got to see my parents and my brother, as well as one of my best friends, who made me the card you see above and brought me a bouquet of flowers as well. (Yes, men are allowed to like flowers. I checked.) I got an awesome lightweight laptop from my in-laws, who wanted me to have something to write with while I was in the hospital and recovering from surgery next month. I had dozens of birthday wishes from friends and family all over the country.

So why didn't I enjoy my birthday more?

In a word: food.

I wanted to go have a beer or three to celebrate. I couldn't.

I wanted to go out to dinner somewhere, like I've done for my birthday every year that I can remember. Not only was this a bad idea from a diet perspective, but I couldn't exactly go by myself. (Lor is still recovering and on a liquid diet besides.)

I wanted a birthday cake and ice cream so bad it almost felt like physical pain.

I got through the day successfully, managing to stay under my daily max of 105 grams of carbs with room to spare. But I was miserable all day. I smiled while visiting with everyone, did my best to be nice to Lor, and spent most of the day trying not to think about food. It was hard - probably harder than any day I have experienced since the first week of our low-carb diet switch. As a result, I was probably not as friendly as I should have been, and my nursing care for Lor definitely suffered. As did all the stuff that I should've been doing around the house. Which I am getting to do today. Which is not making me very happy.

See a pattern here?

At the beginning of this pre-surgical process, I was really worried about being restricted from various foods, because fat men love food, right? (And no, I am not afraid of the term "fat", political correctness notwithstanding. That is probably a whole other post.) These days, I am beginning to resent my attraction to food. These overwhelming cravings just drive me crazy - they make me feel like an addict in recovery. Ok, ok - I am an addict in recovery. But that doesn't make me like it any better.

Many post-bariatric surgery patients talk about how their entire relationship with food had changed. They no longer want to eat, but now look at food as nothing more than fuel - the body has to be "gassed up" every once in a while, but otherwise they do not enjoy eating. And that whole idea makes me sad, too. Because deep down, I don't want my love of food to be removed from my life.

Because I love eating so much that it has made me obese.

Someone help me off this carousel - it is making me so dizzy that I want to throw up.

Looking For The Nearest Trash Can,

- Hawkwind