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... so much for THAT good idea. I cannot handle this no-caffeine thing. Can. Not. Handle.

Felt like total shit all day on Monday. Total and absolute shit. And I was a total cranky-pants to boot.

Monday night I inexplicably felt better, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds! Oh thank god I feel like myself again! Oh man, just feeling *normal* feels soooo good!

Kept that re-found normalcy through the day on Tuesday. Oh thank god! I've got WORK to do, yo!

Today I felt like total shit again. Can't think. Can't work. Can't stay upright and awake. Can't string together a coherent sentence. Can't think. Shit, I'm running out of time before my leave, and I'm being more worthless than I think I've ever been, shit shit shit.

This afternoon I went to drink my last Diet Chocolate Cherry Dr. Pepper (no more soda after surgery, no carbonation allowed!) and I thought to check the label. Caffeine. Oh. Well. That explains it.

I'd had one of those on Monday night, so that was responsible for me feeling like myself again that night and all the next day.

My surgeon says you can have 2 cups of coffee per day if you must. They'd rather you didn't have any, but if you must, it's ok to have 2 cups. So I'm going back to my half-caf coffee (I fill a 4-cup mug every morning).

I gave it a good shot.

It's taking a lot of courage to post this non-private. But I think it is good to get out there exactly where I'm at right now, and why I'm having this surgery...

MotionParallax took my measurements today. (She also traced my outline on giant paper, so that when I'm dealing with body dysmorphia, I can step up to the outline and see without a doubt that I am smaller than before.) So. For all posterity, here they are. 

February 3, 2008

Pre-Op Stats:

Weight:	252 (Down from highest weight of 285 due to pre-op dieting)
Upper Arm (Left):	16"
Neck:	13-3/4"
Bust:	47-1/2"
Upper Stomach:	46-1/2"
Lower Stomach/Hips:	52"
Thigh (Left):	25-3/4"
Calf (Left):	16-1/4"

   

I also took bra & panty and naked pics, plus pics where I'm wearing only a grey t-shirt. The less clothes I'm wearing, the more horrifying I find the picture... :-/ But oddly, the pics where I'm only wearing the grey t-shirt look more like the "me" I'm used to seeing than these pajama pics. Probably because the grey t-shirt fits me the way I normally wear my clothes -- I would NEVER wear a shirt that fits me close enough to show my stomach rolls out of the house. I wish the pajama pants fit closer to my body so you can see my legs better, but I've got the undie and nekkie pics for myself to see that...

I hate my fingers... I remember we had a hugely pregnant lady at work, and she was bitching that her fingers were so swollen that she could hardly type or do anything, and she demanded, "See? Look at this! They're like sausages!" and I looked and her hugely swollen fingers looked exactly like my normal fingers. :-/

Gawd, look at those upper arms... I'm going to have batwings from HELL. And removal of upper-arm skin is a really tough plastic surgery -- it's hard to do, the results aren't as awesome as you'd hope, and the healing is hell. But just looking at me now, you can tell I'll need it. Not to mention the tummy tuck and breast lift I'll need when the skin empties out of fat and just hangs there. Well, whatever. Better to have hanging skin than that same skin filled with fat...

There is just waaaaay too much stuff rolling around in my head.

 Buy:
* Sugar-free Jello
* Baby spoons, bowls
* Good-smelling wipes from B&BW
* "Personal Care" wipes
* Sugar-Free liquid Tylenol or Tylenol "Go Tabs" that melt in your mouth
* Gas-X strips & infant Mylicon drops
* Colace
* Case of water
* Archer Farms flavored water
* Chicken broth
* Pill crusher
* Get scrips filled
* Measuring spoons
* Little fan
* Herbal mint tea
* Sugar-free popsicles

Do:
* Bring bought stuff, Magic Bullet, shaker bottles, DaVinci syrups, and protein samples over to dad's
* Clean apartment
* Bring ipod radio home from work to use at dad's
* Bring Nectar home from work to use at dad's
* Bring benefiber home from work to use at dad's
* Make multiple copies of med list
* Take pre-op pics and measurements
* Get motionparallax to trace my outline on butcher paper

Pack for Hospital:
* Burt's Bees
* Hand lotion
* Undies
* B&BW wipes and antibiotic gel
* "Personal Care" wipes
* Personal fan
* Ear Plugs
* CPAP
* Magazines
* Cell Phone
* "Dry mouth" mouthwash
* Toothbrush/toothpaste
* Copies of med list
* Gas-X strips
* My pillow
* My stuffed dog Brandy

Pack for dad's:
* Laptop
* DVDs
* Clothes -- sweats only
* Shower stuff
* Philosophy stuff
* Laundry stuff
* ipod
* every pillow I own
* fleece blankets so I don't pick dad's afghans threadbare
* books
* foam roller

Now that I've got my date and I know my surgery is really happening, I've had a bit of "Last Supper Syndrome".

I had the thought to go get a hot fudge sundae, but I quashed that. I know as far as sugar, I'm one taste away from flat-out addiction, and the daily headache of old.

I got a McDonalds value meal. The fries were cold and rubbery and gross. After the first handful, I threw the rest away.

The next day I got chinese -- sesame chicken & crab rangoons. Man, I'd been looking forward to this for MANY days. Well, the crab rangoons were... uninspiring. And the sesame chicken just tasted *wrong* somehow and the chicken itself was dry -- definitely not crave-worthy.

Okay, okay, okay. You don't have to beat me on the head. Either the universe is trying to keep me from a pre-op binge that I'll regret, or I am so committed to the post-op lifestyle, and I'm so ready to be there, that my subconscious brain has already turned away from my old favorites. Probably a little of both.

Last Supper Syndrome = thwarted.

February 12! I'm having my surgery on February 12! Holy crap!

I was originally offered Friday, February 8, but I declined because I don't want the hospital's weekend staff taking care of me. I wanted the first slot of the day on the first day of the week. And that's what I got. (My surgeon doesn't do surgeries on Mondays.)

Pre-op appointment today was pretty boring. I didn't learn anything that I didn't already know. ;-) But dad was glad that he went and learned about it, and most importantly, he came to realize that I've researched the hell out of this and that I know TONS. He really realized that this is not a decision I made impulsively. And he's proud of me for doing all the research that I've done and knowing everything that I know. Yay! :-)

I'm doing better now. I got back to work. Today I saw my therapist, so that also helped.

Thank god my dad is going to help me post-op.

I called in sick today. I'm a liar.

When I woke up this morning I still felt sad, plus emotionally hungover from last night. Plus the radio was forecasting freezing drizzle turning to snow. Plus it's Martin Luther King Day, and I think it sucks that MLK day isn't a *real* holiday.

So yeah. I called in.

I'm very dedicated to my work, so when I don't care what is going on or what I'll miss, then you know I'm in a bad headspace.

Keep in mind that I spent Thursday and Friday emotionally piqued because of the insane work drama (which still isn't resolved -- my helper on a white horse is supposed to pursue it further today). And then last night I got the triple-whammy of realizing that Ace was letting me down, my mother was doing the same, and that I have hardly any peeps here in my actual, physical city, which made me feel depressed and alone.

I think the mom thing hit me hard because I felt like this was a chance for her to come through for me and for me (for once) to experience the best side of her -- my mom excels in that arena, the taking-care-of-sick-kid arena. I was excited about the idea of rebuilding our relationship and to really know each other and deeply love each other again. Our relationship has been tattered since 1996. I was getting really happy about having an opportunity to get my mom back again. But.....no. 

Okay, I'm going to cry again. Blergh.

You were supposed to be home this weekend... Listen, I know that Minnesota is awesome and you've fallen in love. At the same time though I really really really need you. You promised me that you would take care of me after my surgery.  My mother has just informed me that she's going to school to become a truck driver so she's not going to be at all around, she's totally out.
 
That means I don't have anybody now. I don't have anybody who will help me in my place, with my cable and my internet and my things. If you don't come home the only thing I can do is go to my dad's house in deep St. Charles where there's no internet and I'll be forced to watch CNBC/old westerns all day and night, and where he'll hover and irritate and annoy me to the point of me screaming.
 
Please don't abandon me. Please please please I'm begging you. Please don't leave me to face this surgery all alone. Please. Please.
 
I'm crying so hard right now please don't leave me alone with this

I must be PMS-ing. I'm not usually prone to such things. But first, on the way home from the laundromat I had to white-knuckle it past the Steak N' Shake. I wanted a shake desperately, which is kind of odd because I haven't really struggled with sugar all that much since I cut it out. Then I decided well, I'd just go to Steak N' Shake and get a burger and fries. But then I thought, NO. I've got plenty of food at home in my kitchen. If I'm going to make the choice to forgo the milkshake, then why not just make the choice to forgo Steak N' Shake altogether? So I white-knuckled my way home.

I got home and satisfied my sweet tooth with apple slices dipped in peanut butter. The minute I ate enough apple slices to feel satisfied, I needed salt (now!).

So I've gotta quit it now. I'm gonna have to just eat some healthy food no matter what my tongue desires. Tongue, I'm ignoring you!

It's gonna be a white-knuckle kind of evening. Blegh.

 got my official "You are approved" letter from Aetna today.   

I'm now officially scheduled for pre-surgery class on January 30. I will meet with the surgeon and the nurse and the dietician, et al. That will be my time to ask my specific questions. I will receive my personal surgery date at that class.