The milk's still good

Dec 12, 2010

Hi everyone! Thoughts are going on paper! Who knows where we'll end up!

It's a mind trick how short a time it takes to make a really big life change. Surgery Thursday, back home Friday. That's quick! In one day, there hasn't even been time for the mailman to come or the laundry to pile up yet. In one day, your milk didn't spoil. You aren't even late to call someone back if only one day has gone by. My point is this, the only place that a change happened in that short an amount of time is IN YOU. They altered your body and sent you home, right? We all say to ourselves before surgery, "I'm not going back to the way I was." In terms of eating, that's absolutely true. You've placed a physical barrier between yourself and the way you used to eat. What about the other things that you researched before surgery? The much-needed vitamins, walking every hour, drinking enough fluids...I'm getting to these.

It's a weird time right after surgery, to be sure. You don't feel your best. You certainly don't look your best. It hurts! Ouch! There might be the need for narcotic pain management if you're having a lot of pain, which will make you more lethargic. You may be dealing with some feelings of missing your old hobby, eating while parked on your ass. Sniff....goodbye old friend. You may even be feeling a little depressed that, even though you did this to yourself, you just wish you felt better and those around you with their big donut in their hand don't realize how insensitive they are being just by existing. Grrr....There are also great moments where you are so proud of yourself for actually going through with this plan, moments where it even seems easier than you thought it might be.  Moments where you feel the gravity of putting yourself first for once. I think women, especially, will relate to this because we get a lot of satisfaction out of sacrifice and doing for others. You finally did it for nobody but YOU, and that feels great.

I have found since being home for three days, it would be so nice and easy to just sit there on that couch with my feet propped up watching Oprah. The word "convalescence" comes to mind. Ahhh...glorious immobility. But this is where it becomes crystal clear that the eating isn't the only thing that has changed. The fact is, your health is entirely in your hands. I'll pause for a moment to let that nugget sink in. Maybe this is elementary fodder for some of you, but this came as quite a weighty (no pun intended) responsibility to me! No nurse is going to show up at your bedside, wake you and shake the vitamins into a little cup. You have to do it. Nobody is going to make sure you get enough fluids to avoid becoming dehydrated. Again -- all you, Baby!  Nobody is going to say, "Drink your protein! Take your walks every hour!" except, guess who!? You! The surgeon's paperwork is scattered all over the flat surfaces in your house advising you strongly to make sure you do these things, but those voices get pretty quiet when they're just typed on paper.

You're home from the hospital. Home looks the same. You even still look the same. The milk's still good! How easy would it be to sit right there and finish Oprah instead of making yourself get up, put on shoes, and walk for ten minutes every hour? Pretty darn easy, let me tell you. Some of us won't rise to the occasion. Some of us will swear it won't hurt if you just skip it this once. In this way, and I've thought about this a lot, surgery does NOT give us an advantage. Surgery gives us a crutch, and it's a rickety one, at that. If you stay on the couch, it's pretty likely that you'll still have a weight loss, but is that number all it's about? Will you being doing the best things for your health? Of course, the answer is no.

I want this band to work for me. It's serious business having surgery. I have been getting by with doing less than the minimum for a lifetime, and what that got me was a size 26 pair of jeans. It wouldn't be enough to simply say I want a change, or even to have some third party alter my body permanently. It means I actually have to DO something different, like walk, or write down what I eat and drink. These are small sacrifices that seem like a mountain to climb when you're only three days past surgery. When I do the right things, only then am I acknowledging how important my life and health really are. Preachy? Perhaps,  but I want to be the example for the right changes.  So, if you're sitting there wishing the pain in your middle would go away and wondering if you should or shouldn't skip this next walk, you shouldn't.

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